Elarion shimmered in golden light as the squad entered its gates, but nothing felt right.
Children laughed, priests smiled, and the streets buzzed with joy. Yet behind every smile was emptiness—soulless eyes, mechanical greetings, forced prayers repeated in sync. A city alive in body but long dead in spirit.
"They're not acting," Iria whispered. "They believe this is joy."
Solryn clenched his fists, frost rising around his boots. "They've been brainwashed."
Kaien's blade pulsed subtly. The Abyss within him churned like a beast sensing prey.
A procession moved down the main road—choirs singing praises to Remiel, not the Light. Banners bore her emblem: a heart cracked down the middle, bleeding threads of pink light.
From atop the high balcony of the central cathedral, Alteron appeared.
He raised his hands and smiled—no, beamed—with fanatic delight.
"Brothers and sisters, today we offer our love… not as a choice, but as truth!"
The crowd cheered.
Kaien's eyes narrowed. "He's completely given himself over."
Iria gripped her staff. "We need to pull the veil down. Show these people the truth."
Seraphen stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Kaien's shoulder. "Not through brute force. Through disruption. Through revelation."
Kaien looked toward the cathedral.
"No," he said. "Through a message that cuts through the lie."
That night, Kaien carved a symbol onto the city's ancient bell tower—a sword piercing through a heart-shaped mask.
The next morning, every citizen awoke with that symbol etched into their walls, homes, and temples—done silently in the night. No blood. No violence.
But the message was clear:
Truth was watching.
And for the first time in years, a few citizens blinked… uncertain.