The old spirit's smile was gentle but knowing.
His physical form flickered slightly, revealing glimpses of his true nature—a being of soft light bound to this sacred space.
"The cathedral has many secrets," Father Thomas said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
"Some hidden in plain sight, others concealed beyond human perception."
Kane glanced at Cyrus, unsure whether to reveal their purpose.
Before Cyrus could answer, Father Thomas raised a weathered hand.
"You seek the Midnight Chalice." It wasn't a question. The old spirit's eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom.
"Yes, it resides within these walls."
Kane stepped forward. "How did you—"
"The chalice calls to those meant to find it." Father Thomas's form shimmered, growing more ethereal.
Cyrus's posture stiffened. "Then give it to us."
Father Thomas laughed, the sound echoing through the cathedral like distant bells.
"Not so simple, dragon. The chalice chooses its bearer through trial."
