King Maeric shook his head and exhaled deeply, disappointment shadowing his face __not at anyone else, but at himself, for his failing memory and weary mind.
The priest turned toward Brother Kaius.
"Did you send the message to Father Amos?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Brother Kaius replied.
Just then, the king sighed, rubbing his fingers over his forehead as old worries returned to weigh on his mind.
"What of the Houses of Seliah and Verya?" he asked.
Father Martin's shoulders sank. "The House of Seliah is on the verge of victory... but the House of Verya has fallen."
The king's brow furrowed. "Fallen? To whom?"
"To the Merchant from the Far North, Oswin Tarrow," Brother Kaius replied gravely.
"The Oswin Tarrow's Merchant?" King Maeric asked, disbelief edging his tone.
Both men nodded. Brother Kaius continued, "They had stationed an unstoppable army throughout the kingdom of Verya. They've even closed the borders."
As he spoke, the king's expression darkened.
"It seems they've bargained with the devil this time," Father Martin said, his tone grim. "After losing face in their last defeat, they've turned to forbidden means, by summoning demons and striking deals with the Vikings, who now raid our eastern villages without rest."
The king took in the words silently, nodding with a weary heaviness. His eyes closed briefly before he asked his final question.
"And the princesses?" His voice softened, hopeful for once.
"Luckily, Sir Roderic managed to smuggle Princess Berevreth and the Dowager Regent out of the kingdom before the Merchants sealed the borders," Brother Kaius said. "But Princess Genevieve…" he hesitated, exhaling deeply, "for now, she remains missing."
Disappointment filled his voice, and the room fell quiet, Disappointment clouded the king's face, his jaw tightening as the weight of loss settled once again upon him.
---
walked behind Gideon, who led me through the cathedral's library, the air filled with the scent of old parchment and candle smoke. At the far end of the hall, he stopped before a tall bookshelf, and to my surprise,as he pressed his palm against its wooden frame,a soft click echoed, and the shelf shifted aside, revealing a narrow hidden doorway.
I hesitated, staring into the dark beyond. I had no idea such a passage even existed here.
Without a word, Gideon stepped through, holding up a small torch. I followed, the sound of our footsteps creaking against the old wooden staircase as we descended deeper beneath the cathedral. The air grew colder, heavier, each breath I took carried the faint smell of damp stone and something ancient. The torch Gideon carried cast shifting shadows across the rough walls__part stone, part earth, making the place look less like a passage and more like a half-finished cave. Someone had made efforts to make it livable, but the chill and silence gave it a haunting feel.
As we walked deeper, a shiver crept down my spine.
What is this place? I wondered, my eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow. The chill, the silence… it was almost a déjà vu of that night — the night I foolishly followed the demon wearing my mother's face. The deeper we went, the stronger the feeling grew
I started to doubt Gideon a little, slowing my steps to keep some distance. He was a member of the Church, yes, but that didn't mean I could trust him completely. The Church was not entirely safe for me, if it were, I wouldn't still have demons lingering around me like shadows. Anything could happen here, and I wasn't about to lower my guard.
Suddenly, a scream echoed from deep within the passage. I froze.
It was distant, but unmistakably coming from this underground. The voice wasn't human, it was a horrible blend of voices, overlapping in anguish, as if two beings were suffering together in the same breath.
My heartbeat quickened. I didn't realize how loud my breathing had become until Gideon turned, raising his torch toward me. The flame flickered across his face, casting uneasy shadows on the walls.
"Princess Elowen?" he called, his voice low but urgent. He squinted through the dim light to find me still standing several steps behind. Then he moved closer. "Are you all right?"
I swallowed hard, pressing a trembling hand to my chest where I could feel my heart pounding. "What is this place? Are we not close yet?" I managed to ask, my voice thinner than I intended.
"Just a few steps more," Gideon assured softly. "Come on, they are waiting."
They? I frowned. He said Father Simon wanted to see me. Since when did "he" become "they"?
The thought unsettled me wondering who else is expecting me, but I said nothing. Anyway, I just followed quietly, each step echoing down the eerie passage as unease settled heavier in my chest.
As we walked, Gideon suddenly stopped, making me halt as well. He turned toward me, lifting his torch and pointing down the corridor to a single room not far ahead. We had passed countless dark, silent chambers, but this one glowed faintly with light, and faint sounds drifted out from within.
"You should go now," he said gently, his voice soft and formal. Then, without waiting for my reply, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the shadows behind me.
I stalled for a moment, watching him disappear before facing the lit doorway again. What are the priests up to this time? I wondered, suspicion curling at the edge of my thoughts. Another test… another attempt to 'awaken my gift,' no doubt.
I stepped closer, my pace slowing as I neared the threshold. But before I could reach it
A scream tore through the air again.
It was so sudden, so raw, that it sent a jolt through me. I covered my mouth, holding back a gasp as I peeked inside.
The sight that met me nearly froze me in place.
Inside, I saw a man tied to a chair __wild-haired, his skin blotched with black patches. His veins pulsed dark under his skin, as though his very blood had turned to poison.
Father Timothy stood before him, performing an exorcism — murmuring Latin prayers while pressing a small cross to the man's chest. Beside him were Father Simon and Father Arren, each taking turns sprinkling holy oil over the possessed. The man's screams grew louder with every drop.
The sight was horrifying. the man let out another guttural scream that made my stomach twist. The air in the room was thick, heavy with something foul and unseen, that even from the doorway, I could feel it pressing against my skin like invisible claws.
His body strained against the ropes, jerking violently, as if ready to lunge at anyone nearby.
I had heard stories of how brutal exorcisms could be, but seeing one in person was… different. Terrifying I could feel the dark energy radiating from him.
Father Simon, who had noticed me upon entering, finally placed his bottle of oil on the nearby table and walked toward me.
"Father Simon," I called, forcing myself to look away from the possessed man still thrashing in his chair. My eyes kept wanting to drift back to him, drawn by something dark and magnetic. "Why did you call me here?" I asked, confusion lacing my tone.
A faint smile curved his lips. "For the same reason we have since the day you were born," he said calmly. "To find your gift."
Right just as i had guessed, I thought, fighting the urge to sigh. Another test. I rolled my eyes inwardly, though I dared not show it.
Father Simon stepped closer, his expression turning solemn. "The evil ones knew to strike on the day of your dawn. That was no coincidence," he said, voice low and firm. "We cannot afford to be idle any longer. For decades, the dark could not step foot on our land__ the purity your ancestors forged kept them bound beyond the veil."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "But now they come and go as they please. Do you know why?"
I stayed silent, meeting his eyes. He continued
"Because their essence is fading," he said finally, "and a new cleansing is needed. That is why you were born, Princess Elowen. To awaken your gift, to restore the sanctity of the realm, and cleanse this land of all evil."
I exhaled softly. "Father," I began, "have you ever thought that maybe the reason I keep failing these tests is because I'm not who you think I am? Maybe it's not me. Maybe it was never me."
His brow furrowed slightly, but I pressed on. "You all keep saying it's because of the hair, the signs, the prophecy, but I've failed every test. What if you're wrong?"
A smirk ghosted over his face, unreadable as always. Slowly, he turned his gaze from me… to the bound man in the chair.
"Tell me," He began "standing just a few steps from that man, what do you feel within you?"
I turned my gaze toward the man, studying him in the dim torchlight.
"Cold," I answered simply. Standing there, I almost wished I had a fur cloak to wrap around me. The chill wasn't from the air, it crawled under my skin, deep into my chest. I didn't know if it was just me, but after everything I'd seen these past few days… maybe my once-firm beliefs weren't as solid as I thought. Maybe the "old tales" I used to dismiss weren't tales at all. I was just one demon knight away from believing it all.
Father Simon's voice cut softly through my thoughts. "Now what do you feel from him?"
He kept his eyes fixed on the man, as did I. The prisoner was breathing harshly, his body trembling against the ropes that bound him. Then, he stilled. His head dropped forward as though it had become too heavy to lift.
"This is one of the gift your ancestors had, they could tell the feeling that exudes from a demon possessed" He said.
I kept watching, tense.
Then slowly… The man raised his head.
Our eyes met.
A violent shiver shot down my spine.
"…Rage," I whispered.
Suddenly The ropes snapped.
He lunged forward with unnatural speed, kicking Father Simon aside and leaping straight toward me.
"Ahh!" I screamed, pressing both hands to his chest, trying to push him away as his bloody fingers clawed into my shoulder. Pain shot through me as I struggled, desperate.
Then, another hand__ not mine, pressed against his chest.
A flash of power burst through the room, sending the man flying across it. He hit the far wall with a sickening thud and fell limp.
Panting, I coughed and clutched my chest, then looked up __ and froze.
Standing before me was my older cousin, Berevreth.
She pulled back her dark cloak, revealing her bald head and that familiar, almost mischievous smile that always deepened her dimples.