The Paladin Knights, known across the kingdoms as the Sanctum Knights or the Order of Twelve, were beings of near mythic reverence. So noble and pure they were believed to be chosen by God Himself. Their presence alone was enough to bend even the proudest knee__commoners bowed instinctively, and nobles lowered their gaze in respect.
They were not ordinary warriors. They were the Church's elite champions__defenders of faith, demons' greatest fear, and the most loyal companions of the divine order. It was said that when a Sanctum Knight marched to war, evil trembled before the sound of their steps.
The Order consisted of twelve, each, representing a divine relic__ An ancient artifacts safeguarded by the Cathedral through the centuries. Only those deemed worthy were granted one, binding them to sacred duty as living vessels of divine power.
The Paladin Knights were rare even to kings and queens__so rare that some might live their entire lives without ever meeting or even seeing one. The Paladins only appeared in times of great darkness, when war rose against good itself. They were the Lord's soldiers, chosen and anointed, their loyalty sworn not to any crown or mortal command, but to the Church and the greater good.
They lived by a vow that severed all earthly attachment__a life of celibacy, purity, and sacrifice. They renounced wealth, power, and the embrace of women, believing that a heart untouched by worldly desire could carry divine will untainted. To be a Paladin was to cease belonging to oneself__it was to belong entirely to God.
And that brings me to the source of my deepest confusion.
Why on earth was there a Paladin that night in the cave?
We were not at war. There had been no call to arms. In fact, that day was meant to be my coronation__ A peaceful, radiant ceremony. And even though I had indeed been attacked by a demon, a single creature of darkness hardly warranted the presence of a Sanctum Knight.
But then I remembered my father's expression that day__how troubled he looked when he urged me to find the priest and catechist. My heart stilled.
Could there truly have been a greater threat that day?
Or… was everything I saw merely a dream?
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This morning I woke up with a piercing headache and a thousand unanswered questions, the sound of chant and prayers that echoed from a distant hall woke me up, and as i looked around it turned out I wasn't in my royal chamber, I was in the cathedral.
That alone was strange__this had never happened before. And I learned, I had not simply fallen asleep. I had actually been unconscious… for the past two days__two whole days__So much for being the 'powerful heiress.' I couldn't even withstand one demon's torment, and yet the people expected me to cast them all out someday.
Father Amos, the Canon of the cathedral__keeper of records, scriptures, and sacred relics, Was also a skilled physician. He had tended to me countless times, ever Since i was a child whenever I fell ill or, as they liked to say, "suffered an evil attack."
Father Amos, an old man of quiet wisdom and sharp wit, was more than just a healer to me, he was a friend. He often told me the things others wouldn't dare to say, whispering the dangerous secrets of the kingdom and the cathedral alike. My father never truly distrusted him, yet he always grew uneasy when we spent time together, because I never left without a new question on my lips or a truth he'd rather I didn't know.
It was he who tended to me when I awoke__his wrinkled hands steady as ever, his tone calm though his eyes betrayed concern. He told me my ribs were fracturedand and that the slimy fluid from the demon's body was more than just filth, it was poison. A lingering torment meant to punish those who dared survive its attack. The curse, he warned, would last thirty days. And here I was, fated to endure twenty eight more.
---
Now, standing in the Cathedral's Knight Tower, I watched young the knights train in rhythmic precision. The clang of steel against steel echoed through the wide court yard. I drew in a slow deep breath, letting the cool wind sweep through me, carrying away the weight of my thoughts.
The cathedral had always been like a second home to me, a place i spent most of my time if i wasnt in the castle__its scent of incense and stone felt familiar. But this tower... this was new. I had never been allowed this deep in the cathedral before. Normally, I stayed within the chapels, the archives, the prayer halls. Yet today, they had granted me freedom to walk where I pleased, as thou i live here__Something told me I would be staying here for a while.
Even Father Amos, who usually confided everything, had hesitated earlier. He told me only that the Three Kingdoms were under attack that day, and that my father was okey. But I could tell he wasn't telling me everything.
Time moved slowly as I stood at the tall tower, staring out at the horizon. A deep ache settled in my chest, a longing I couldn't name. Perhaps it was worry—for my father, for my cousins, for my governess who had cared for me in my mother's stead, Or... for Victoria.
I couldn't help but wonder—had she been searching for me through the chaos of the attack, or was she running for her life?
I hoped she was running. I prayed she was safe.
I prayed they all were. The thought brought tears to my eyes, but I blinked the tears away before they could fall.
"Your Highness," a calm, familiar voice said behind me.
I turned sharply.
It was His Lordship, Bishop Caelum, the bishop of the diocese.
He approached slowly, hands clasped neatly behind his back, wearing the simple robes he preferred when not presiding over mass. His presence radiated serenity and quiet authority. Every step he took was gracefully and measured.
"Your Grace," I said with a small bow before turning back toward the courtyard.
"You must be very conflicted by the present situation," he said after a brief glance at my face.
"It would be strange if I weren't," I replied, my gaze fixed on the knights. "I just woke after two days of unconsciousness due to an attack, only to learn that my kingdom, and the other two as well, were under siege. I don't even know what to make of it all… especially when I can tell I'm not being told everything."
I turned to face him as I said the last words. For a moment, Bishop Caelum simply watched me, his expression unreadable, then a faint, knowing smile curved his lips.
"And what is it, that you believe you are not being told?"He asked softly
The question struck me silent. I looked away. Now that I thought about it… what was I accusing them of hiding? I had no proof, just a feeling. Fether Amos had never once hesitated to tell me anything, yet today… today, he had. The old man, blunt and fearless as ever, had avoided my eyes. And that alone was enough to make me worry, maybe that is where my doubt was coming from.
"Are you afraid they're sparing you from something painful," Bishop Caelum asked again, his tone gentle yet probing. "Or do you simply sense that darker news still lingers beyond what you've heard?"
Of course__Bishop Caelum. Always with his quiet riddles disguised as questions. The kind that left me fumbling for words. I turned to him at last, half frustrated, half thoughtful, uncertain whether to answer or to demand one from him instead, i exhaled deeply as a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I didn't want to be here anymore, i could feel my patience thinning. Every answer led to another question, every look from him felt like a test, At this point i just want to go home, I wanted the familiar silence of my chambers, the scent of lilac from the garden outside my window, a moment of peace where i can just pretend everything is absolutly fine
I hesitated for a moment, then drew a quiet breath.
"If it's all right, Your Grace," I began, gathering what remained of my composure, "I would like to return to the castle later in the day."
"I'm afraid that cannot happen just yet, Your Highness," he replied calmly. His tone was gentle but the type that allowed no argument. I arched a brow, waiting for an explanation. He turned slightly, placing a steady hand on my shoulder.
"I heard you faced a Nharoth that night," he said.
My gaze dropped instantly. I wasn't sure if I should confirm it. Everything still felt like a dream, a haunting blur of darkness and pain. And truthfully, I wasn't ready to admit what I'd seen. I had doubted such things my entire life. How could one encounter change that overnight?
Bishop Caelum seemed to sense my hesitation. He exhaled softly and nodded, as though understanding more than I said.
"You needn't worry about the attack anymore, Princess Elowen," he continued, his voice calm and reassuring. "It has ended. The kingdom and the king are safe. The castle is under restoration due to the damage sustained during the attack. For now, you must remain here, to rest, and to recover fully."
His eyes dropped to my wrist. The demon's poison had left a dark greenish mark where its hand had gripped me, They had rubbed it with all sorts of oils and blessed herbs, murmuring prayers over it until the pain dulled. Yet the mark remained ugly and defiant, a reminder that I wasn't entirely free of that night.
"I'm told you still have twenty-eight days before the poison leaves your body," he said quietly. I instinctively tried to hide the mark with my other hand, but my fingers were too small to cover it completely.
"Until then," he added, "you must stay within the cathedral. Not only to heal, but to be cleansed, to purge yourself of the evil's trace."
There we go again, the cleansing. I rolled my eyes inwardly. When would I ever be free from this? How could I tell them that I don't believe in all they have been teaching me? Even my own father__whom I'm closest to, doesn't know, because I've learned to play along too well.
Now I am trapped here for the next twenty-eight days, forced to do the one thing I disliked most. It wasn't that I hated the Church, nor was I an unbeliever. I loved the gospel, the hymns, the serenity of Mass, just like everyone else in the kingdom.
But I never believed in the exaggerated tales of my ancestors, or in these ceremonies they claim will cleanse me.
And yet, here I am, forced to take part in them once again.
Just then, a sudden commotion stirred from the courtyard below.
"Open the gates!" a knight at the entrance shouted. His voice echoed through the court yard, Echoed through the quiet air like a bell of alarm. I moved closer to the balcony rail, peering down as several young knights hurried to pull open the massive iron-bound doors. The hinges groaned in protest, heavy and reluctant.
And then__they rode in.
The Paladin Knights.
My breath caught. For a moment, I forgot how to move, how to think. I had only ever read about them in the sacred chronicles, tales so grand they felt almost like myths__the Sanctum Order, the divine hand of the Church. Never, not once, had I imagined I would see them with my own eyes.
Although no one ever really wished for such a sight, Because the appearance of the Sanctum Knights meant only one thing__danger.
The kind of danger not born of man.
They entered the courtyard in a formation so perfect it seemed choreographed by the heavens. Their armor was black, with a red cross glowing faintly on each chest. Even their horses were covered in dark plates that clanked softly as they moved. The moment they entered, the air seemed to tighten, their presence pulled every eye toward them.
The young knights stopped their training right away. Some bowed their heads with respect, while others tried to sneak quick looks, curious and amazed. Even among the monks and nuns nearby, there was quiet murmuring.
I just stood at the balcony, frozen, just staring in awe.
They rode in until they reached the base of the tower, There they stopped.
And looked up.
Straight at me.
My heart skipped hard in my chest. My hands tightened on the railing.
Why are they staring? Can they read thoughts too? What do I do?
As i gazed my instinct screamed to bow, but I forced myself still. I am royalty, I reminded myself. I bow to no one but God.
Then I realized__their eyes were fixed not on me, but on the Bishop beside me. He raised his hand and drew a cross in the air, and in perfect unison, the Paladins lowered their heads. Then they rode through the southern archway__the Hall of Vows, a place I had always thought led nowhere but storage chambers.
As they rode off, I watched closely, and i noticed something was wrong. There were only eleven of them.
The Sanctum Knights always rode in twelves. Always.
My mind started racing. Where's the twelfth?
And then, like a spark, my thoughts flashed back to that night, the night of the attack. The knight who saved me. The one wrapped in shadow and light all at once. I could still hear his calm voice in my head.
I leaned forward and scanned the riders' faces carefully. I had a sharp memory, I'd recognize him if I saw him. But… he wasn't there.
'Who was that man?' I wondered
'Was he one of them? Or something else entirely?'
A cold thought crept in. Could he have been a demon in disguise? But that didn't make sense, if he was, then why was I still alive? Any demon would have killed me on sight.
I wanted to ask Bishop Caelum, but I stopped myself. He never gave straight answers. His words always came wrapped in riddles, enough to leave me more confused than before.
I turned to the Bishop with another question in mind.
"Your Grace," I called, drawing his attention. "Who brought me here?" I asked, my voice steady despite the lingering unease. "You said you knew I had faced a Nharoth… but how could you possibly know what I had faced alone?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Cenon Amos" he said gently, "He figured your injuries were the kind only a Nharoth could inflict. I was not present when the attack occurred. In fact, I was on my way to Rome when I received the news. If you truly want to know, I suggest you speak with Father Simon. He was the only one in the cathedral that day."
I nodded slowly, a fire of determination igniting within me. I had to find out—who, or what, had I truly faced that day. Who was that man.