The bells of the High Church tolled long before sunrise.
Not with ceremony.
Not with the steady, regal rhythm that marked festivals or coronations.
This morning, they rang in panic.
A trembling, uneven, frantic clamor that rolled across the capital like a storm front—warning every sleeping soul that something catastrophic stirred within the marble walls of the world's holiest institution.
Inside, chaos already spread like fire.
Pages sprinted through gilded hallways.
Inquisitors barked contradictory orders.
Ritual candles flickered in violent drafts as if the air itself trembled in fear.
And at the center of it all—
in the Hall of Revelation, beneath stained glass depicting ancient prophets—
Aiden stood perfectly still.
As Lucifer.
Prophet.
And soon, more.
