Soft light beckoned from the end of the corridor—not the harsh glare of illusion, but the warm glow of cathedral candles.
"It seems we passed the test," Cyrus said, gesturing for Kane to go ahead.
They walked side by side, neither willing to let the other out of sight again.
The pathway led them upward, spiraling back into the familiar walls of St. Aveline's.
Father Thomas waited at the top, hands folded patiently, as though they'd merely stepped out for a moment instead of battling nightmares beneath the earth.
Kane and Cyrus followed Father Thomas up the final steps, emerging into the cathedral's main hall.
The priest's robes swished against the marble floor as he moved with unhurried grace toward the sanctuary.
Moonlight streamed through stained glass, casting prismatic shadows across the pews.
Kane's fur was still on end, his breathing ragged from their ordeal in the labyrinth.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and fixed Father Thomas with an incredulous stare.
