The Holy Cathedral stood untouched by the world’s corruption, an unyielding sanctuary of divinity and order. It was a place where time itself seemed to pause, where the whispers of the mundane could not reach.

  The grand hall, bathed in the golden radiance of sacred light, stretched endlessly in solemn silence. Towering stained-glass windows adorned the walls, depicting the great saints and their divine trials, their visages forever frozen in expressions of unwavering faith. Beneath them, rows of priests and paladins moved in careful reverence, their hushed prayers merging into a harmonious chant that resonated through the cathedral’s vast interior.

  At the heart of this sacred place, kneeling before the grand altar, was Saintess Tasha.

  Her presence alone commanded devotion, her very being a conduit of divine will. Draped in flowing white robes embroidered with golden sigils, she emanated an aura of serene authority, her hands delicately folded in prayer.

  The soft glow of enchanted candles flickered around her, casting gentle halos upon her graceful features. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back like flowing light, and her deep, celestial blue eyes remained closed in solemn concentration.

  She had been praying—communing with the divine—when she felt it.

  A shift in the air.

  A disturbance.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her gaze toward the grand cathedral doors.

  Thud.

  The sound of hurried, heavy footfalls echoed through the holy hall, growing louder with each desperate stride. The synchronized murmurs of prayer wavered, the atmosphere growing tense as the presence of something urgent approached.

  Then, in a violent crash, the cathedral doors burst open.

  A gust of wind surged inward, carrying with it the scent of sweat, dirt, and exhaustion.

  The figure standing at the entrance was Veylan.

  His golden robe, once a symbol of pristine holiness, was now torn and stained with filth. His usually composed face was twisted in panic, his breath ragged and unsteady. His entire form trembled—not from fatigue alone, but from the sheer terror that clung to his very soul.

  For a moment, he stood frozen in the doorway, his wide, frantic eyes locking onto Saintess Tasha.

  Then, without hesitation, he fell to his knees.

  “Saintess…!”

  His voice cracked as he gasped for air, his body shaking uncontrollably.

  He bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched the cold marble floor, his hands clenched into fists. His shoulders heaved as he fought against the sobs that threatened to escape.

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  The gathered priests and paladins exchanged uneasy glances. Never had they seen Veylan, one of the Church’s elite, reduced to such a broken state.

  Saintess Tasha remained still, her gaze unreadable.

  She did not speak immediately, allowing the weight of silence to press upon him. Only when the last echoes of the doors settling faded did she part her lips.

  “Rise, Veylan.”

  Her voice was gentle, yet carried an unshakable authority—a voice that could soothe the wounded yet command the strongest of warriors.

  But Veylan did not rise.

  He remained kneeling, his head bowed, his breath still uneven.

  Tasha studied him carefully. The fear in his eyes, the trembling in his limbs… this was not the mere exhaustion of battle. This was something far worse.

  She stepped forward, her movements graceful, almost weightless, and placed a hand upon his bowed head.

  A warmth spread through him—divine energy, gentle yet firm, like sunlight upon frost. It was meant to calm him, to ease his distress.

  But his terror remained.

  “Speak.”

  At her command, Veylan swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain control. His voice, though strained, carried the urgency of one who had gazed into the abyss and barely escaped.

  “An abomination, Saintess.”

  Murmurs rippled through the gathered clergy, but a single sharp glance from Tasha silenced them all.

  Veylan inhaled shakily.

  “We went to investigate the Abyss… a routine cleansing, to ensure no remnants of corruption remained.”

  His fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms.

  “But what we found… was not something of the Abyss.”

  Tasha’s expression did not waver, but her fingers twitched ever so slightly.

  Veylan’s voice dropped, his next words barely above a whisper.

  “It was… alive. It was aware.”

  A breath of silence.

  And then—

  “It thought, it spoke, it… reasoned.”

  A visible shift spread through the holy figures present. Uneasy shifting, quiet gasps, a growing tension that threatened to shatter the cathedral’s serenity.

  Saintess Tasha, however, remained composed.

  “Describe it.”

  Veylan’s breathing grew unsteady again, his mind recoiling at the memory.

  “It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” His voice wavered. “A form that constantly shifted, as though its body refused to conform to a single shape. It was fluid, yet solid. It had no face, yet it watched us. It spoke with a voice that did not belong to this world.”

  His breath hitched.

  “It… toyed with us. As though we were nothing but insects.”

  A paladin at the far end took an unconscious step back.

  Veylan’s hands trembled. “We were powerless, Saintess. It crushed my entire battalion without effort. It—” His voice broke. “It held Vice Captain Arthus in its grasp and studied him like he was some insignificant thing.”

  The cathedral seemed to grow colder.

  Tasha’s fingers tightened slightly on Veylan’s head before she withdrew her hand.

  For a long moment, she said nothing.

  Then—

  “Where are your men?”

  Veylan flinched.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  Tasha understood.

  They were gone.

  Taken.

  Her gaze lifted slightly, looking past Veylan—past the grand cathedral doors, past the city walls, toward the distant horizon where the Abyss loomed beyond mortal sight.

  Something… had awakened.

  A being outside the understanding of the Holy Church.

  A slow breath left her lips.

  Then, her voice, quiet yet absolute, sealed the verdict.

  “Send word to the High Council.”

  The gathered clergy stiffened.

  A declaration of that magnitude was not made lightly.

  Tasha turned to one of the paladins standing guard, her gaze sharp.

  “Summon the Inquisitors. Call upon the Order of Purity. We ride at dawn.”

  Her eyes darkened with purpose.

  “We will cleanse this abomination.”

  But before her order could leave the cathedral—

  "Halt!"

  A group of men clad in golden armor with black lining stepped forward, blocking the main entrance.