The sermon dragged to its crescendo, voices echoing until the marble pillars seemed to pulse with sound. When the high priest lowered his staff, the cathedral roared one final chant of devotion before silence rippled outward, leaving only the lingering smell of incense and the shimmer of golden light hanging in the air.
The faithful exhaled as though they had given pieces of their souls, eyes damp with tears, faces glowing with rapture. Nobles embraced, merchants clasped hands as if sealing contracts in the goddess's name, and farmers pressed dirt-stained foreheads to the floor as though they had kissed divinity itself. The ritual ended, but the weight of it lingered like chains across the hall.
Meanwhile, high above in the celestial realm, Aria stood at the heart of a radiant domain. Vast bridges of light stretched across the heavens, each one arched with runes that shimmered like constellations. Flowing rivers of starlight wound through floating gardens, their waters glittering with fragments of galaxies. Towering crystalline structures pulsed with divine energy, casting prismatic hues across ivory marble floors that seemed carved from frozen moonlight. Incense-like mist drifted through the halls, carrying a fragrance both sweet and sharp, as if the air itself sang hymns of devotion. Her golden hair cascaded like molten sunlight, eyes glowing as streams of faith poured into her form from every kingdom below. The power washed over her, filling the air with a low hum like an endless choir.
Aria's lips curved into a smile. "Yes… more. They give so freely. Their hearts, their breath, their strength—it all belongs to me."
She closed her eyes, savoring the rush. Yet her gaze flickered, narrowing as she sensed the faint gaps in devotion. Not every hero bent the knee. Not every summoned champion had offered faith. The threads of resistance were faint, but undeniable.
"They hesitate," she murmured. "But they will not for long. All power bends to me. Even those who doubt will kneel. In time." She stretched her hands outward, pulling in the last streams of worship like a spider gathering silk. The chamber brightened, her aura swelling, though even now she knew it was not enough. She was stronger than ever, but still far from ascending to the rank of supreme deity.
In her mind, fragments of memory rose—laughing once with mortals, walking among them, healing their sick without demanding devotion. That Aria was gone, sacrificed for this hunger to rise above all others. She hardened her expression and turned her face from the past. "Love was never enough. Power alone endures."
Her attendants stepped forward, bowing low as they unfurled scrolls shimmering with divine script. One spoke clearly: "My Lady, the strongest flow of faith this day came from the northern kingdom of Varinth, their devotion nearly doubled after the sermon. The western reaches of Elmaris are steady, but the southern desert clans of Thares remain reluctant. Their hearts are slower to yield." Another attendant added, "And among the summoned heroes, seven still withheld their offerings. Their faith lines are thin, unbound to your light."
Aria's eyes narrowed, golden lashes lowering. "Foolish children clinging to pride. They will break. All of them will break."
A third attendant knelt, voice tense. "There is also troubling word, my Lady. The Demon Lord has been active again. Reports say he culls villages, reducing numbers so fewer prayers rise. He seeks to starve your ascent."
Aria's lips tightened into a cold smile. "Let him slaughter. Every drop of blood spilled will drive the survivors deeper into my arms. Their fear will bind them to me, and through fear they will worship."
Back in the cathedral, the light dimmed as the ritual drew to its natural close. Priests bowed low, signaling the dismissal. The crowd lingered in awe, murmuring prayers of gratitude. The trio, however, were already leaning forward on their benches, itching to leave faster than they had come.
"Finally," Seme muttered, standing and rolling her shoulders. "Felt like I was gonna suffocate in that bullshit."
Kenshin stretched, cracking his neck with an exaggerated sigh. "Bruh, I'm starvin'. We skipped breakfast, and I been runnin' on fumes."
Drathan smirked, rising with his usual lazy swagger. "Ain't no way I'm lettin' this fake glow stop me from eatin'."
They slipped from their section, Mira trailing close with her expression caught between reverence and unease. As they exited the cathedral's golden doors, the cool air of the city hit them. Bells still tolled in celebration, though the trio's minds were elsewhere.
"Let's find a tavern," Drathan said, eyes narrowing toward the bustling streets. "Big one. VIP spot. Somewhere we can eat in peace."
"Bet," Kenshin grinned. "I want a table stacked with meat and a pitcher to myself."
"Third floor if they got it," Seme added, already pushing through the crowd. "I ain't sittin' with no mob of zealots."
Together, still trading quips, they headed down the avenue toward one of Tierwyn's largest taverns. The streets were jammed shoulder to shoulder, people still buzzing with the high of the ritual—vendors shouting over one another, street performers banging drums and clashing cymbals, the air heavy with sweat, incense, and roasted meat. Lines snaked out of every tavern and inn, most of them overflowing with patrons still singing praises to Aria. Only the VIP areas remained available, their prices gouged sky-high for the day of worship.
The trio pushed their way into the sprawling tavern and, after flashing coin, were escorted to the third floor. Privacy wards hummed faintly in the air, giving the space a muffled hush compared to the riot below. The room itself was lavish: carved oak tables polished to a shine, velvet drapes in deep crimson, and golden lanterns casting a warm, steady glow. Even the seats were plush, more like thrones than chairs, and the smell of perfumed oils hung subtly in the air.
Before long, the servers arrived with a grand meal fit for kings. Platters of roasted boar glazed in honey, bowls of spiced root vegetables, steaming loaves of bread slathered in garlic butter, and pitchers of dark ale and sweet wine filled the table. Every bite was rich, the kind of food that clung to the bones, savory enough to make them forget for a moment the weight of divine politics outside. The VIP space muffled the chaos of the tavern below, leaving only their laughter, banter, and the clinking of mugs as they finally indulged in the feast they had been craving since dawn.
As the meal settled in and the noise of the city faded to a dull murmur beneath the wards, Velra leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyes flicked between the three brothers with a curious sharpness. "So, what did you think of the sermon? Honest answer."
The trio exchanged quick glances, a long pause stretching as if they weighed every word too carefully. Drathan scratched his jaw and muttered, "It was... somethin'. Lotta glow, lotta talk." He let it hang in the air, deliberately vague.
Kenshin tilted his mug and gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, uh... crowd was real into it, huh? Could feel that energy. Wild." His eyes darted toward Seme, as if to pass the question along.
Seme gave the slowest shrug imaginable, stabbing a piece of meat with her fork. "Guess it hit different for some folks. Just not my vibe, y'know?"
Velra's brows arched, picking up on the careful distance in their answers, but she let the silence hang, only smirking faintly before sipping her wine. The trio chewed a little slower, avoiding each other's eyes—none of them eager to speak their real minds.