Into the Shadows of the Church
Planning to explore the village later, they stepped into the ancient church.
In front of the imposing structure, an inscription greeted them, as if placed there for wandering tourists:
"Sacred Library and Church — Welcome."
"Well, aren't they hospitable," Lediye remarked aloud, his voice tinged with irony, though his eyes lingered in genuine awe at the sight before him.
Coincidentally — or perhaps not — the church and library shared the same building, a sanctuary where the sacred and the scholarly converged.
The exterior was already impressive, but it was upon crossing the threshold that the true atmosphere gripped them.
The church's interior was vast and still, like an old wooden house where every step creaked in protest. The vaulted ceiling soared above, upheld by stone columns etched with ancient carvings. Sculptures of angels, unblinking eyes, and strange symbols crowned the pillars. Even in their age-worn state, each could only be described with one word — magnificent.
As they ventured deeper, Lucian noticed that the library's walls had been carved from stone with unnatural precision.
The heavy wooden doors, though scarred by time, still stood, and a cold breeze escaped from within, as if something inside still breathed.
Lucian paused at the library's entrance. The air beyond was thick, almost tangible.
They stepped forward cautiously. Lediye, more relaxed, slipped in behind him.
"This place smells like something dead. An animal, maybe," Lediye muttered, the sarcasm in his tone failing to mask the unease beneath.
The walls bore faded figures, while towering stained-glass windows filtered the village's meager sunlight into colored shadows that crawled across the floor. The glass depicted strange symbols — eight-pointed stars, winged serpents, and weeping eyes that bled red.
To the left of the central nave, tall dark-wood shelves reached almost to the ceiling. The books were cloaked in dust, their spines crumbling with age. One, bound in leather marked by an inverted cross and spirals, seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light.
Lucian scanned the broken shelves, noting torn and rotting pages. One discarded tome lay open to a chapter titled Rituals of Summoning.
For a moment, he stood in silent thought. A summoning ritual… here? Not likely. No one in the village would have access to such knowledge, let alone permission to perform it in this place.
But the dust on the book told a different story. It hadn't been touched in years — meaning whatever had happened here, happened suddenly. And not by outsiders.
He found four more books, all open to the same page. The conclusion was hard to ignore: This was a group summoning — carried out in this church, sanctioned by this church.
"Coincidences don't happen twice," Lucian murmured to himself.
Despite the decay, the place still held an untouched beauty. The altar, even without candlelight, radiated a solemn presence. Behind it, a heavy wooden door — carved with eyes, keys, and interlocking circles — stood slightly ajar. A chill seeped through, brushing their skin like the brittle fingers of an old woman.
Lucian advanced cautiously, his steps echoing against the scratched marble floor. Lediye wandered past him, muttering, "Curious place…" as though visiting an old memory.
Inside, time felt suspended.
Lediye crouched to retrieve the pulsing book, and at his touch, the air shifted.
The room grew heavier, as though the ghosts of the dead village were stirring.
A faint whisper bled through the walls, muffled but insistent. Then came a new sound — a rhythmic tapping, like impatient fingers drumming on wood.
Lediye, his voice half-playful, half-somber, said, "Well, this place has more than one secret. Not a total loss." He smiled faintly.
Lucian didn't reply. He'd dealt with the supernatural before, though never enough to feel comfortable with it.
In the room's center, an ancient stone glowed softly, its light flickering like a dying flame.
Lucian reached out, placing his hand upon it. Visions exploded in his mind — the city before its fall, its plazas alive with laughter, temples rising proud — and always, that same book.
The last vision faded, leaving him calm but troubled.
"I didn't see everything," he said quietly, "but we were right. There were summoning rituals."
Neither of them looked surprised. People everywhere, it seemed, were drawn to what they shouldn't touch.
Around them, the library's shadows seemed to gather, growing denser, moving as though aware of their presence.
Lucian's gaze deepened. Something was about to happen.
A dry, subtle sound echoed through the stone walls — not wind, but something more deliberate, like nails sliding across aged wood.
The glowing stone dimmed, throwing the room into deeper shadow.
"Lucian…" Lediye's voice was low, no trace of jest this time. "There's something here. Not just with us — in the place itself."
The silence that followed pressed in on them.
"Something's trapped here," Lucian said finally, his tone sharp but edged with unease. "And we're not the first to get this close."
Lediye pointed toward the corners — where the darkness had grown unnaturally thick. One patch seemed to shift when he looked at it.
"You're seeing that too, right?"
Lucian gave a short nod, moving toward a fallen shelf. The same book lay there again, its pages now too weathered to read.
Before he could try, a deep, dragging sound rolled through the floor, like a massive door moving far below them.
"That came from downstairs?" Lediye asked, failing to hide the tension in his voice.
The cold breeze had turned to damp, icy wind. Lucian's instincts prickled — not from temperature, but from the scent of danger.
"There's something here," he said. "If it was summoned here, it's still here. In short, my friend — we're in trouble."
He offered a faint smile and a thumbs-up.
Then the candles went out. All at once.
"Lucian!" Lediye called, his sword half-drawn. From somewhere in the dark came the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps.
"These aren't ours…" Lediye murmured.
The steps stopped. The air thickened. Lucian felt something behind him — close, watching.
Turning slowly, he caught a glimpse of two pale, glowing eyes in the dark.
"It's looking at us," he whispered.
The stone in the center cracked with a sharp, echoing snap. Black, viscous liquid seeped out, winding across the floor like something alive.
The whisper returned, clearer now, yet warped and inhuman:
"Give… me… my light…"
Lucian's mind shuddered under the weight of the voice.
"We're leaving. Now."
But the heavy door slammed shut.
From the walls came the sound of wood and stone shifting — something moving inside them.
The eyes appeared again, closer this time. A shape emerged — humanoid, yet wrong. Its body was unnaturally wide and thin, fused with the wall itself.
Its eyes were a lifeless storm-gray, but the intent behind them was sharp and predatory.
Lucian and Lediye were no longer just intruders.
They were prey.