Dominic closed the book, and the apprentice carefully carried it back to the lectern, placing it between the twin symbols on the altar. The cathedral hummed with quiet anticipation.
"Today," Dominic began, his voice steady, "we are reminded of the mercy the Father and the Mother have bestowed upon us. Some kingdoms on Ancarat are still in turmoil, yet the Kingdom of Elren stands at peace."
Priests across the cathedral nodded solemnly, their faces reflecting the weight of his words.
Dominic continued with the mass, reading from the Scriptures of the Shield and of Storms. His reflections drew quiet nods from the assembled clergy. At the culmination of the service, he performed the sacred rite of crowning priests as paladins. One by one, they knelt, and he placed the ceremonial medallions upon their shoulders.
Then came the moment of truth. Dominic knelt again before the altar, hands clasped in prayer, eyes fixed on the faceless symbols. His voice lowered, reverent, trembling ever so slightly with the gravity of the act.
"Glory and magnificence be to the Mother, the Lady of Calamity. Glory be to the Father, magnificence be to the Guardian. I, Dominic Adatore, humbly seek your blessing. I wish to ascend, to serve as a High Priest."
For a heartbeat, there was only silence. The cathedral seemed to hold its breath. Outside, the soft sound of wind through the open doors was amplified in the emptiness. Dominic's eyes darted between the two symbols, his chest rising faster with anxious hope.
Then, a voice broke the silence from the front row.
"Aren't the symbols supposed to light up when a priest invokes the divine names of the pair?"
Whispers erupted into murmurs, then voices rose in alarmed chatter.
"Could it be… they're denouncing him?"
"But why now, after allowing him to serve?"
"This is… unusual."
"Perhaps… a deviant?"
Dominic's heart sank as he heard the nobles' accusations, sharp and venomous above the low din.
"Paladins! Apprehend this heretic! This fiend who has abandoned God!" High Priestess Yulan's command cut through the commotion like a knife..
Adrian's mouth opened in shock, but no sound came. Dominic spun toward Yulan, disbelief etched across his face.
Clinking armor echoed as silver-armored paladins closed in around him.
"Please, come willingly," one said, approaching with a measured calm. "Don't erase what little respect remains for you."
Dominic shook his head, panic rising, and stumbled backward, his back pressing against the altar. The paladins restrained him, their grips ironclad. He was cuffed and marched toward the dungeons, every step a blow to his heart.
"Dom… he is no deviant!" Adrian shouted, turning to Yulan.
"Look at the chaos around you, Adrian," Yulan said, her voice tight. "If I hadn't ordered the containment, the apprentices from Agmar would have attacked him. Others would defend him. There would be blood. For now, we wait."
Dominic was shoved into a cell. The heavy door slammed behind him.
"I have been nothing but faithful to the Divines! I am not a heretic!" he shouted, voice echoing through the stone walls.
The paladins grunted in acknowledgment, then left him alone. Cold stone pressed against his back as he wrapped his arms around himself.
"My Lord… why have you forsaken me?" he whispered to the empty air.
He raised a hand, willing the divine Shield spell to manifest. For the first time, nothing answered. The spell flickered once, then vanished. Powerless, he sank to the floor, bitter tears streaming down his face. His cries echoed endlessly through the dungeon corridors.
Meanwhile, far above the mortal plane…
Three angels streaked across a city of gold, their wings slicing through the air toward a spire that pierced the sky. At the top, a throne room awaited them.
"The whole system is collapsing," Raphaelos said, eyes scanning the vast chamber. "The throne is the only thing keeping the divine network from shattering."
"One of us must sit upon it, provide it with energy, or the structure fails entirely," Aladrielos added, wings folding as he considered the impossibility of the task.
Michaelos, Angelos, and Sarayelos exchanged glances.
"The only ones strong enough are Michaelos or Angelos," Sarayelos said quietly.
Michaelos nodded toward Angelos. Slowly, Angelos approached the throne and seated himself. Immediately, his eyes flared with light, his body trembling as tiny cracks appeared across his skin. A scream tore from his throat, agonized.
Michaelos and the others clenched their teeth, eyes unwavering.
"We'll rotate on the throne," Michaelos said through gritted teeth.
"It's not a solution, but it will have to do.... for now. Aladrielos, you must go find Father. His aura is in the capital, he is in danger."
Aladrielos bowed once, then launched toward the mortal plane, disappearing among the stars. Michaelos turned his full attention to Angelos, who was still gripping the throne, teeth clenched and sweat running down his face.
Aladrielos descended and arrived on the mortal plane, assuming a formless guise. His leather pouch rested against his shoulder, carrying the tools and weapons he might need. He approached the towering, faceless statue of the God of Protection and followed the strongest trace of divine signature to a mansion with red-tiled roofs.
He phased through walls with effortless grace, navigating the halls until he reached a chamber with two massive doors. He passed through them, entering a room where a man and a woman sat. His body trembled subconsciously as he sensed their power.
The woman's eyes bore into his formless form, she could see him even though he was invisible. The man, radiating the quiet presence of the Father, remained still, resting his head on the woman's lap, seemingly oblivious to Aladrielos' presence. Aladrielos looked at the man on the woman's lap. Then at the woman,
He froze.
The weight of divinity pressed down upon him. Suffocating and boundless. It felt like he was drowning. The woman's gaze alone felt like standing beneath a storm that could unmake him ten times over.