The sound of footsteps was slow and deliberate.
A man walked calmly through the station, passing by a restless crowd.
Engines roared and metal clashed, filling the air with raw noise.
A train came to a halt.
From one of its doors stepped a fair young woman.
Sunlight clung to her like a blessing.
She wore a short yellow dress beneath a black coat, her light-colored hair glowing faintly as she descended.
At the corner of the platform, the man waited.
Before she even looked at him, she turned slightly, as if she had sensed his presence.
Then she began to walk toward him
slowly, steadily until she stood before him.
His eyes met hers.
A distant voice echoed through the station:
"The location is all I need. Let's go."
The woman blinked in faint surprise, but her face remained calm.
"Blackwell," she said softly. "It's been a long time. Can't you even look surprised… or welcome me?"
Blackwell's gaze was cold.
"What use is a welcome," he replied, "if you're only going to leave again?"
Then he spoke her name aloud:
"Elena Ward.
From the moment I knew you, your path was different from mine.
You chose to serve a dying goddess."
Her expression changed.
"That was before," Elena said quietly.
"Now, I am a Saint of the Church."
Blackwell narrowed his eyes.
"Enough. No one can change their pathway if their heart is not pure."
He turned away.
"We're both in Iron Gate for a reason.
Let's find it before we start digging through the past."
Without another word, the two of them left the platform.
They walked into a crowded district where noise, dust, and desperation filled the air.
Beggars sat on the streets, hands stretched out, eyes hollow.
This was the main street of Iron Gate
a place where the forgotten gathered, where scraps of money and pity were all that kept people alive.
Both of them walked without saying a word, the silence heavy and empty.
The smell of poverty and iron mixed with the wet ground.
Old lanterns clinked in the noise of carriages knocking against stone.
Finally, they reached a small, deserted store near a building standing at the corner of the street.
Blackwell stretched his hand toward the handle of the door.
He grabbed it tightly and slowly opened it.
He placed one foot inside, then the other, walking straight into the building.
His eyes gazed around the room covered in spider webs.
"Elena, you can come inside now. There is nothing here."
Elena looked around before entering, then closed the door behind them.
Blackwell walked toward the stairs, grabbing a lantern from a table near the steps on his right.
He raised it and lit the lamp with his left hand.
Both of them climbed the stairs slowly, the sound of their footsteps touching the fragile wood.
Crack.
Crack.
Finally, they reached the top of the room.
Both of them stood there, facing each other.
"This is weird," Elena said. "There is nothing supernatural here. Not even a drop of sorcery."
"Do not drop your guard yet," Blackwell replied. "Some things are not what they seem. The High Court brought us both here for a reason."
"I know," Elena said. "Do you think I want to see your face? I am here not by choice."
Their words were like weapons, striking at each other.
As the silence grew tighter in the room, there was nothing supernatural, yet their minds felt uneasy and curious.
Before either of them could speak, the door was forced open.
A young man with pale skin ran inside, bleeding from his head, moving with desperate speed.
From outside, three men shouted, "Catch him!"
Then one of them said, "Stop! Don't you see where he ran? That building!"
Another man replied, "Why should we stop? We are already close. He has nowhere left to run."
The first man shook his head.
"Not long ago, twelve people died in that apartment for no reason."
The three men froze. Then one dropped his weapon.
"Let him go. He ran straight to his death."
They turned and walked away.
Inside, the young man breathed out softly.
"Finally… they're gone. I thought they were going to chase me all over the city."
Blackwell and Elena were still standing at the top of the stairs, watching him.
The young man stood up and stretched.
"Fools," he muttered. "What is even wrong with this building? Cowards, believing in supernatural nonsense."
He walked forward without paying attention to his surroundings.
Blood dropped from his head.
As it touched the ground, a strange symbol appeared.
A summoning ritual.
The blood mixed with the symbol as if it had been prepared for this moment.
Before he could turn, his heart stopped.
Blackwell jumped down the stairs.
"Damn it!"
He grabbed the man by the hair and tried to pull him out of the circle, but it was too late.
The young man's heartbeat slowed. His eyes stared wildly around him.
His mind shattered like glass.
The room grew cold, like the inside of a freezer.
The smell of iron mixed with blood and something unnatural.
The man tried desperately to survive.
His body cracked apart like glass breaking from inside his skin.
Strange symbols appeared across his flesh, tearing it open as if cut by invisible blades.
He screamed, "It hurts! My head! Somebody help me! No, no I can't die here!"
His body and mind fell apart as the symbols spread across his skin.
Elena ran down the stairs and threw a white liquid onto the circle.
The symbol shattered but it was already too late.
The ritual had completed.
The marks remained on the man's body.
"Bloody hell," Blackwell cursed.
"You had holy water and didn't use it earlier?"
"There was no time," Elena replied. "We can argue later. Look at this."
"Please don't let this be what I think it is."
"It's obvious," Blackwell said. "This was not an accident. Someone was trying to make a deal with a dying god."
"The question is," Elena said quietly, "is this what they wanted?"
"We have to report this to the High Court."
Blackwell slowly stepped away from the corpse lying inside the symbol.
Elena turned toward another door in the room.
She pulled out a strange key and placed it into the lock.
The doorway twisted open.
Both of them stepped inside.
The door closed behind them.