Chapter 6 — The Chamber Behind the Light
The cathedral's roar faded into the distance, muffled by heavy doors inlaid with silver crosses. The air here was different — thick, unmoving, scented faintly with incense and old blood.
The High Priest walked alone at first, his steps slow and deliberate, each echo swallowed by the dimness. The golden vestments of public ceremony had already been shed; in their place hung a robe of deep crimson, the fabric drinking the light rather than reflecting it.
A pair of towering doors waited ahead. With a wave of his ringed hand, the locks clicked open.
Inside was no holy sanctuary. The chamber was lined with scrolls, black candles, and chained tomes whose bindings seemed to twitch. Cages lined the far wall, though no movement came from within — only the dull gleam of unblinking eyes.
"Close it," he said, without looking back.
The paladins obeyed. With the sound of the last bolt sliding into place, the High Priest's posture shifted. The faint stoop of the benevolent shepherd straightened into the stance of a predator. His lips curled — not in a smile, but something colder.
"How many?" he asked.
"Two hundred and seventeen, Your Holiness," answered one paladin. "Villages in the south have sworn allegiance. Those who resisted… have been brought into compliance."
The High Priest's gaze wandered to a corner table, where maps of the continent lay spread, peppered with tiny obsidian pins. He ran his fingers over one of them, as though weighing the worth of the lives it represented.
"Two hundred and seventeen," he murmured. "And yet the Dark God's champion claims one city, and the peasants wail as though the sky has fallen. Fools. They have not yet seen what true ruin is."
He turned toward the nearest cage, stooping slightly to meet the eyes within. "And you," he said softly, "will help them learn."
The thing in the cage did not speak. It could not.
Straightening, the High Priest drew a folded parchment from his sleeve. The ink was fresh — a list of names. "These," he said to the paladins, "are to be removed before winter. Quietly. No witnesses. No graves."
He placed the list down, pressing it flat with his palm. The rings on his fingers glittered in the candlelight.
"By the time the Dark God's champion reaches our gates," he said, "he will find no army, no allies, and no hope. Only my will… and her light."
The paladins knelt, fists over hearts. "Glory to the Goddess."
The High Priest closed his eyes, breathing in the still air. And for the briefest moment, his lips moved — not in prayer, but in silent calculation.