The chamber of the High Priest was dimly lit, the golden candle flames flickering in unnatural stillness. A grand desk of polished ivory sat at the center, adorned with ancient scrolls and bound tomes, each inscribed with the sacred decrees of the Fellowship of the Seven Stars. Before it knelt seven figures, their heads bowed in reverence, their very presence exuding an aura of divine authority. These were the Seven Horns, the chosen envoys of the supreme Seven Stars.
The High Priest stood before them, his pristine white robes flowing like liquid light. His golden eyes burned with a celestial intensity, his very form a testament to the will of Solmiel. He was neither man nor god, but something in between—a vessel of absolute order, bound to the voice of divinity.
In his hand, he held a quill of silver, its tip perpetually dipped in an ink that shimmered with a golden radiance. With precise strokes, he began writing the decree that would shake the foundations of the world.
---
To the Faithful Servants of the Fellowship of the Seven Stars,
A Revelation Has Been Bestowed Upon Us.
The cursed one walks among the living once more. The chains of damnation have been shattered, and the abyss has loosened its grip. This is a violation of the natural order—a sin that must be rectified with swift and absolute judgment.
By the will of the Divine, I decree:
1. The cursed one is to be found, contained, and eradicated. Let no place grant him sanctuary, and let no soul shield him from his fate.
2. All branches of the Fellowship are to devote their resources to the hunt. No effort is too great, no sacrifice too small. The taint of the abyss must be purged before it festers.
3. The Seven Stars shall receive further instructions through their Horns. Each shall move according to the will of the Divine, enforcing the judgment upon the land.
This is not merely a command—it is the voice of Solmiel made manifest. He watches, and He expects obedience.
Signed,
The High Priest of the Fellowship of the Seven Stars
---
The seven Horns did not speak as the High Priest meticulously folded each letter and pressed the golden seal of the Fellowship upon the parchment. He handed each letter to its respective Horn, who received it with silent reverence.
Now came the second decree—one meant solely for the Seven Stars themselves. The High Priest took up a new parchment, and the quill once more moved with an unnatural grace.
---
To the Seven Stars, Keepers of Divine Law,
The time of silence has ended. The cursed one has risen from the grave, and with him, the threat of the abyss. This is not merely a disturbance—it is a herald of calamity. The Divine has spoken, and we must answer.
Each of you shall take action as befits your domain:
Executioner of Sin – Seek out the cursed one's past transgressions. His sins shall be revealed, and his judgment shall be swift.
Hand of the Law – Ensure that none dare oppose this decree. Every soul under your dominion must bow to the will of the Divine.
Blessed Martyr – Let the people know that suffering is the price of salvation. The cursed one's presence must be met with a greater devotion.
Flame of Cleansing – Purge the impure who would dare shelter this abomination. No city, no village, no sanctuary shall remain untouched.
Keeper of Truth – Erase all records of the cursed one's past. None shall remember his name. His existence itself must be condemned to oblivion.
Holy Conqueror – Prepare for war. If the cursed one is to defy us, we shall march with the might of the Divine behind us.
Scalebearer – Ensure that balance is maintained. If mercy is required, it shall be given. If wrath is demanded, it shall be delivered.
This is the will of the Divine. Carry it out without hesitation.
Signed,
The High Priest of the Fellowship of the Seven Stars
---
As the final seal was pressed, the High Priest exhaled, his breath carrying the weight of divine command. He raised his golden eyes to the Seven Horns.
"You know what must be done," he intoned.
Without hesitation, the Horns bowed deeply, then turned on their heels, vanishing into the shadows. The letters they carried would soon reach the highest echelons of the Fellowship, and the hunt for the cursed one would begin.
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
The city of Dravenholm stretched beneath the cover of night, its skyline jagged with the silhouettes of crumbling towers and war-torn ruins. The Fellowship's influence loomed over the city like an unshakable shadow, its grand cathedral standing as an unchallenged pillar of power.
Inside a dimly lit tavern, tucked into a booth at the farthest corner, sat a man who looked like he belonged anywhere but here.
Jack.
Slouched in his seat, one leg lazily draped over the other, he shuffled a deck of worn-out playing cards with practiced ease. His deep green cloak was patched in places but tailored well enough to suggest he had coin when it suited him. His boots, scuffed yet sturdy, hinted at a man always ready to run. A dagger rested loosely in its sheath at his hip, though anyone who knew Jack understood that steel wasn't his true weapon—his wits were.
A hooded figure sat across from him, silent, unmoving.
Jack sighed, flicking a card onto the table. The Ace of Spades.
"You're not much for conversation, are you?" he mused.
The hooded figure slid a sealed parchment across the table. No words. Just the mission.
Jack smirked, picking it up with two fingers. He tilted his head as he examined the wax seal—no emblem, no insignia. Just a smooth, unmarked stamp.
"An anonymous job?" he chuckled, tucking the letter into his cloak. "Mysterious. I like it."
The hooded figure placed a small bag onto the table. Jack picked it up, testing its weight. Heavy. Gold. Promising.
"And payment upfront? Either you trust me too much, or you're desperate."
Silence.
Jack sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll take the job. But I set my own odds." He shuffled his deck again, cutting it cleanly in half. "What am I stealing?"
Finally, the hooded figure spoke, voice low and mechanical, as if distorted through some kind of device.
"A relic of the old world, kept within the Fellowship's Dravenholm sanctum. You will know it when you see it."
Jack's smirk widened. "Oh, I love surprises."
The figure rose, vanishing into the night as swiftly as they had appeared.
Jack flipped another card onto the table. The Joker.
"Well," he murmured, pocketing the gold, "this should be fun."
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
The Fellowship's Dravenholm sanctum was a fortress of faith, its high stone walls lined with intricate carvings of Solmiel's supposed triumphs. Gargoyles of winged saints perched atop its parapets, their hollow eyes following trespassers like silent sentinels.
Jack crouched in the shadow of an alley, his eyes scanning the courtyard. Guards patrolled in pairs, torches casting flickering halos onto the cobblestone. The relic was inside, deep within the sanctum's archives.
He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. "Time to gamble."
Closing his eyes, he placed a hand over his chest, feeling the pulse of his own essence.
"I wager... my agility."
The air shimmered around him, as if the very fabric of reality acknowledged his bet. His muscles tightened, his body felt heavier. But in exchange—
His perception sharpened.
He could see the way the guards moved, their patterns and blind spots. Every step was predictable, every movement a calculation in his mind.
He grinned. "That'll do."
Moving like a shadow, he slipped through the courtyard, weaving between patrols with a gambler's ease.
Inside, the sanctum was deathly silent. Grand hallways stretched endlessly, lined with towering bookshelves and stained-glass windows depicting the House of Seven.
Jack navigated through corridors, avoiding monks and clerics, until he reached a massive iron door. The archive.
His fingers danced over the lock, his mind already running through the mechanisms within. "You'd think a place like this would have better security."
A click. The door creaked open.
Inside, on a pedestal bathed in pale candlelight, lay the artifact. A small, obsidian cube inscribed with runes that seemed to shift when looked at too closely.
Jack approached carefully, his instincts screaming caution. He reached out—
Then the alarms blared.
"Shit."
The doors burst open. Guards flooded the chamber, weapons drawn.
Jack grabbed the cube and bolted, weaving through the chaos.
The sanctum was a maze, but Jack didn't need a map—he had luck. Or at least, he had it until—
BAM!
He crashed into someone on the street, knocking them both to the ground.
A girl.
No, not just any girl—Ify.
Before she could react, Jack grabbed her wrist and yanked her up.
"Congratulations," he said, grinning despite the chaos. "You're now my accomplice."
Ify blinked, stunned.
And then the guards turned the corner.
Jack's grin widened.
"Run."