This outcast chapel revealed an engraved 'S' symbol at the apex of its roof pillars. Lanterns were hung crisscrossed before the entrance. Edward picked up an unlit lantern and ignited it using the flame of one already burning. He put away the wooden cart and attempted to unlatch the chapel door, only to find the heavy lock securely bolted.
"It seems the Father hath business to attend to this night," Edward remarked.
"And what wilt thou do now?" Mary asked the one-armed doctor.
Edward paced around the structure, observing its perimeter until he spotted a chapel window resting slightly ajar. Devising a plan—and being hindered by the loss of his left arm—he required the assistance of the maiden.
"Mary, I shall hoist thee up. The Father keepeth a spare key hidden within a chest beneath his writing desk. Search for it and unbolt the door for me."
"Very well, I shall try," the maiden agreed with a nod.
Edward stooped low, allowing Marilyn to step onto his back. He bent further so she could grasp the wooden sill and pull her frame through the narrow window frame.
"I am inside!"
Outside, the howling wind blew past, accompanied by the faint hum of fireflies in the pitch-black night. She shut the window, using every ounce of her strength to withstand the biting draft and prevent the chill from entering the sanctuary.
"Ugh! This window is both old and stiff!" Mary panted.
"Pull not too hard, lest it shatter..."
THUD!
Before Edward could even finish his sentence, a splintered fragment of wood fell directly onto his head.
"I-I beg thy forgiveness! My hand slipped!" Mary said.
"Let it be... No one shall come to mend it now regardless."
As they spoke, the young man caught sight of flickering torchlight in the distance beyond the chapel grounds. Devout followers dressed in black garments marched behind a vicar, holding torches aloft.
"Hath the ritual commenced already?" Edward mused.
Having climbed inside, Mary searched through the gloomy hall for the key. "Where might it be hidden...?"
The maiden reached out, feeling along the desk, and discovered a lamp drawing near to its final flicker behind the vicar's writing chair. "Ah! At least there is light left."
Using both hands, she heaved a wooden chest forward. "This must be it."
She pried open the container, causing the loose papers within to flutter through the air. Beneath them, Marilyn found a ring of keys wrapped in white cloth. Yet as she lifted them, her eyes caught sight of a letter written in dried red ink—alarmingly reminiscent of human blood.
'A Letter to Father Sereza,'
Holding the lantern high in her left hand, she brought the flame closer to read the words.
"To Father Sereza," Mary spoke the words softly aloud. "Wherefore hath thy daughter been treated like a beast of the field? Wert thou not the one to guide my path? Is faith not merely our peaceful coexistence in harmony? Or am I no longer favored in the sight of the Lord? Am I so heavy with sin, Father? Merely because I offered my devotion unto the heavens and the stars, is that not the threshold of His divine abode? By what authority dost thou judge my faith...? Who art thou? What manner of creature hast thou become."
She turned the blood-stained parchment over.
'This letter, penned by mine own hand, is sent unto my father: Thy daughter can abide here no longer. I have no desire to remain in this city to witness thy barbarity. I cannot bear to see thee claim innocent lives at every hour. I have lost all faith in that scheming fraud who useth the name of the Lord as a shield. Forgive me, Father. I know in my heart that what I have done is beyond thy forgiveness, and I know thou wilt burn me as thou hast burned the others. Yet I hesitated not—for all that I have done was but an endeavor to make thee understand us. Caslette cannot press onward by faith alone; should it continue thus, all shall fall to ruin. I have embraced all that I held dear, and I am returning to my mother's side at last. Shouldst thou read this letter, I wish to say... my deepest thanks... Farewell...' written by Dorothy Sereza
Upon reading the final line, Mary turned deathly pale. Driven by a restless urge, her hands searched deeper through the documents in the box until she unearthed an old leaf of church scripture. It had been ripped away and discarded like a piece of worthless parchment.
The maiden stood up, picking up the latest entries from Father Sereza's personal journal.
'I have found it, that forbidden stone! It lies hidden somewhere high within the towers of Castle Castol. Yet I cannot cross the threshold alone. I require more devout brethren... someone to aid my ascent, souls who can guide me upward into the sunlight. The hour to cleanse this city is at hand! Though I must lose everything, that stone shall restore the glorious dawn of this realm! I believe it! All those who have... departed... shall return to my embrace once more. Dorothy—both thou and thy mother shall rest in my arms... Those who resist shall perish, and until that hour comes, the Lord shall forgive His black sheep. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. That stone is the very hand of the Almighty, a divine reward for His children!'
Her eyes darted to a black scripture book resting upon the desk. Mary flipped through its pages with meticulous care. The symbol of faith depicted within was an eye carved above a holy cross. She noticed where original leaves had been torn out and replaced with newly inserted parchment.
There, before Mary's eyes, was an illustration of human beings bound to wooden stakes, their bodies consumed by raging flames, as though the ancient scripture had been corrupted and twisted into something entirely alien to the holy texts she had read in her youth.
"Thy filthy scriptures cannot heal this realm! Hahaha!"
The frantic laughter of the madman from earlier that day echoed hauntingly within her mind.
The Canon of the Round Table
The Holy Scripture of Faith, Chapter XIII: The Black Sheep's Torment
The punishment of the black sheep, for he heeded not the commandment of the Lord.