The Holy Cathedral had long stood as the beacon of divine law, but within its hallowed halls, power was never absolute. Beneath the golden radiance of the sacred banners, beneath the soft whispers of prayer and devotion, lay a hidden struggle—a war not fought with steel and fire, but with influence, faith, and control.

  Saintess Tasha was well aware of this.

  Yet, she had no time for politics. Not now.

  Veylan’s words still echoed in her mind, each syllable a weight pressing upon her thoughts.

  "It thought, it spoke, it reasoned."

  Something from the Abyss had awakened—something beyond human understanding. She needed to act. The Inquisitors had to be summoned, the Order of Purity must be mobilized, and the High Council informed.

  And yet, as she strode through the corridors of the Holy Cathedral, her pace urgent, her flowing white robes trailing like a stream of light, she felt it—resistance.

  A force standing in her way.

  She was not surprised. The other faction had moved.

  The doors to the Hall of Concord swung open with a resounding thud.

  Inside, seated in a semicircle around a grand obsidian table, were the Cardinals of the Holy Church—the true pillars of faith that governed the continent’s spiritual order. Their robes were embroidered with sacred symbols, their presence alone capable of commanding entire legions of believers.

  And at the head of the assembly sat Cardinal Gerhardt, the power that rivaled—even surpassed—Saintess Tasha.

  He was a man steeped in centuries of influence, his face marked with deep lines of wisdom, his piercing amber eyes betraying a mind that had long learned how to maneuver the labyrinth of power. His white beard was well-groomed, and his golden-trimmed robes spoke of authority—but beneath the grandeur, Tasha saw something else.

  Opposition.

  “You look troubled, Saintess.” His voice was smooth, unhurried. “Perhaps you should rest. Your recent work has been… rather exhausting, has it not?”

  Tasha halted at the center of the chamber, her celestial blue eyes narrowing.

  “I have no time for pleasantries, Cardinal.” Her voice was calm but unwavering. “A catastrophe looms beyond the Abyss. We must act.”

  Murmurs spread across the chamber. Some of the gathered figures seemed uneasy, shifting in their seats. They knew.

  They knew that nothing should be disturbed beneath the Abyss.

  Because the truth was simple—no one knew what truly lurked beneath.

  Only those in power knew the fragments of history, records so ancient and incomplete that even the greatest scholars could not decipher the true horror that slumbered beneath.

  But one thing had been clear from those ancient texts.

  "Do not provoke the abyssal depths."

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  And now, a monstrosity from those depths had emerged—not as a mindless force, but as something that could reason.

  Yet, instead of concern, Cardinal Gerhardt only smiled.

  “And what, dear Saintess, do you intend to do?”

  Tasha clenched her fists. “Summon the Inquisitors. Mobilize the Purity Order. We ride at dawn.”

  A silence fell over the chamber.

  Then, laughter.

  It was soft at first, then growing, as though some great cosmic joke had been spoken. It came not from the Cardinals—but from Gerhardt himself.

  His amusement did not reach his eyes.

  “So hasty.” He sighed, feigning disappointment. “So reckless.”

  Tasha’s body stiffened.

  “I do not recall seeking your permission, Cardinal.” Her voice sharpened. “This is not a matter of doctrine or council debates. This is a crisis.”

  Gerhardt’s golden eyes glowed with something unreadable.

  “No, Saintess.” He leaned forward. “This is a matter of order. And you—” He gestured at her. “—are disrupting it.”

  The air turned cold.

  Tasha could feel it—the shift in power, the silent signals exchanged between the seated figures. This was not a mere discussion.

  This was an ambush.

  Gerhardt continued, his tone one of measured control.

  “The Inquisitors will not march. The Purity Order will remain where it is. And you… Saintess Tasha… will remain here.”

  A realization struck her.

  They had planned this.

  They had anticipated her response and acted preemptively.

  She was not being opposed.

  She was being restrained.

  A soft chuckle escaped Tasha’s lips, devoid of amusement.

  “So this is your move, then?” she murmured, her hands tightening at her sides.

  Gerhardt’s smile did not waver.

  “You have gathered too much… devotion, dear Saintess.” His words were laced with feigned sympathy. “Your influence among the people is concerning. Perhaps it is time you rested, lest you collapse from the burden of expectation.”

  “You dare.”

  Her voice was quiet.

  But the air shuddered.

  The candles that lit the chamber flickered violently, the divine radiance of the hall dimming. A sudden weight pressed upon the chamber, a force that sent ripples through the very foundation of the Holy Cathedral.

  The Cardinals stirred, their breaths catching.

  Even Gerhardt’s expression tightened for the first time.

  Tasha exhaled slowly, reining in the holy power that had instinctively surged forth.

  But her gaze—her unwavering gaze—pierced through the Cardinal’s veil of control.

  “You would hinder me? When an unknown force has risen from the Abyss?”

  She took a step forward, challenging.

  “We are men and women of faith, not scheming cowards.”

  Gerhardt’s fingers tapped against the obsidian table. “And yet, it is you who are reckless, Saintess.”

  He met her gaze with something colder.

  “Do you think we are unaware of the truth?” His voice lowered, but it carried across the chamber.

  “The Abyss is not to be disturbed.”

  The unspoken truth loomed between them.

  Even in its slumber, the Abyss housed monstrosities beyond comprehension—beings that could not be fought, only avoided.

  And now, one of those abominations had emerged—not with mindless hunger, but with intelligence.

  One that did not fear the consequences.

  One that did not fear them.

  Gerhardt’s gaze hardened.

  “Do you truly believe this is something we can fight?”

  Silence.

  The Cardinals sat motionless.

  Tasha’s breath slowed.

  In truth, she did not know.

  What she did know, however, was fear.

  Not hers—but theirs.

  The Holy Church, for all its power, for all its dominion over faith and souls—was afraid.

  Afraid that this entity would shatter their fragile control.

  Afraid that it would reveal the weakness behind their doctrine of order.

  And so, rather than act—they would chain her.

  Hinder her.

  For the first time in years, Saintess Tasha felt the bitter weight of powerlessness.

  But she swallowed it down.

  Slowly, she straightened.

  “Then tell me, Cardinal.” Her voice was cool. “What will you do?”

  Gerhardt’s lips curled.

  “The same thing we have always done.”

  He gestured toward the chamber doors—where two armored knights now stood.

  “Maintain control.”

  The doors shut behind her.

  The Holy Church would not march to war.

  Not against this.

  And for the first time, Tasha understood.

  They were no longer the ones hunting monsters.

  They were the ones being hunted.