The top floor of the library was partially in ruins. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, opening a path to the night sky — an endless vault of stars that pulsed slowly, as if breathing in rhythm with the city. The air, thin and strange, drifted in softly, stirring the remnants of charred tapestries and sweeping across the dark dust that blanketed the cracked floor.
I approached the opening where once there had been a wall. From there, I could see nearly all of Erebus.
The broken towers. The fallen bridges. The plazas drowned in silence.
And farther ahead… there it was. The cathedral.
It stood like a heart still beating in the corpse of the city. Its spires touched the sky like black fingers in supplication, and the windows — made of stained glass found nowhere else in the world — emitted a soft, pulsing glow, like eyes dreaming even in sleep.
I tightened my grip on the sword and exhaled slowly, the air cutting into my lungs like glass.
"It was good while it lasted," I murmured, not realizing I'd spoken aloud. For a moment, I forgot I was still inside the Demonic Mirror — that prison of memories and echoes — and gave in to the pure sensation of understanding something greater. As if, in those brief moments, the entire world had narrowed into that hidden knowledge, those forgotten pages.
But now… it was time to descend.
I retraced my steps along the narrow path between shattered columns, passing the shelves I had so carefully reorganized. It had taken me days, maybe weeks — impossible to tell — to classify each tome by theme, origin, language, even by color. Each book placed reverently in its spot, as if they'd been waiting for this all along.
In the center of the main hall, I left the final volume — Dawn — on the stone pedestal where I'd found it. I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Thank you…" I whispered, almost like a prayer. And then I bowed silently.
The words weren't meant for anyone in particular. Perhaps for the city. For Azrael. Or for myself.
With the sword pressed to my chest, I crossed the hall one last time. And then I left. The library doors shut behind me with a muted thud, as if marking the end of a cycle.
The light coming from the sky wasn't natural. Neither day nor night, only the light of Erebus — a faint radiance, as if the stars there shone with a purpose of their own, casting shadows that defied the laws of the outside world.
My footsteps began to echo on the ancient black stones of the road. And I walked, toward the cathedral.
It was waiting for me.
✦ ✦ ✦
After what felt like half an hour of walking — maybe more, maybe less — I reached the cathedral. Even in ruins, it commanded presence like a fallen monarchy that still demanded reverence.
The purple stained glass in its broken windows seemed to pulse with an internal, spectral light. The main structure was cloaked in moss and black vines, yet the details still stood out — pillars adorned with inscriptions spiraling upward. One of the towers had collapsed, tearing a crater into the ground beside it, as though the sky itself had punished the structure with a single finger.
The double entrance doors were ajar — but just enough to deepen my unease.
I swallowed hard. My fingers slid around the hilt of the sword.
I stepped forward, firm though hesitant, toward the main entrance. I placed both hands on the dark wood and pushed with force — and as I did, the sound that followed was like the groaning bones of a titan.
The doors resisted. Not just because of time… but as if something still fought to keep them shut.
"Huff… huff…" My chest rose and fell with effort. Cold sweat trickled down the side of my face.
I managed to open a gap — not wide, but just enough for me to slip through.
I crossed the threshold.
The cathedral's darkness wasn't complete. The interior was lit by the sky's glow — the candles that should have hung from golden chandeliers coiled around the columns like snakes were long gone. Tapestries draped the walls, some torn, others intact, depicting scenes I had never seen in any book — Azrael on thrones, in battles, and… in dialogue with indistinct beings, creatures with eyes far too bright to be human.
Ancient paintings filled the empty spaces along the walls. Noble, sacred, and shadowed faces — all with eyes that seemed to follow anyone who walked by. Some figures in the portraits had been slashed through with red paint, others bore cracks that split their expressions down the middle.
The floor was black marble, veined with cracks and etched with arcane symbols that faintly glowed beneath my feet. The sound of my steps echoed strangely, as if I were being followed by my own shadow.
At the far end stood what remained of the altar. The back of the cathedral was completely exposed to the sky — the collapsed ceiling let the moonlight pour in, cutting through the broken circular stained glass above and casting violet and silver beams across the ground.
And then I looked at the altar.
And the world stopped.
My face went pale.
My body froze.
There, above the altar, seated on a massive throne carved from obsidian and silver, was a man — bound at the center of the Encosto.
Thick chains, like living serpents, descended from the ruined dome, curling around the pillars and locking his arms in place, stretching them outward and suspending him above the seat. His bare chest was marked with glowing symbols, as though they had been scorched into his flesh — inscriptions burning with an inner light.
The man held his head low, long hair covering half his face… until he slowly lifted it, as if sensing I was there. One eye remained hidden, but the other… the one eye visible had a sclera entirely purple. And within it, a golden iris shimmered — like a solitary star in a chaotic universe.
I couldn't move.
I blinked.
And when my eyes opened again… The vision was gone. The altar was now empty. Ordinary. Like any other cathedral altar. Candles burning in neat rows. A dark wooden lectern, worn by time, where sacred books had once rested. And at the center, on a white marble pedestal stained with age, sat a crystal sphere — the word finally came to me: monstrance — glowing faintly under the moonlight.
Just that. Nothing more.
But I knew what I'd seen. It hadn't been an illusion. It wasn't some hallucination.
"What was that?" My breath was heavy. "More importantly… where?" My fingers were trembling. "And… who?"
My mind churned with questions, but I pushed them aside, shaking my head forcefully like someone trying to clear a fog of thoughts.
I began to walk. I moved slowly through the ruins, cautiously — not out of fear, but from that strange feeling… that this place had already been read.
Like the city. Like everything else. There might still be books hidden somewhere — buried under rubble or sealed within the secret compartments so often favored by ancient architecture. But something told me I had already taken in all that this place had to give.
I reached the altar and studied the table closely. I leaned the sword upright against the stone edge. The metal let out a deep, muted sound as it touched the surface.
The crystal sphere lay there, cracked. Its fractures ran like veins through glass.
Beside it, carefully stacked with almost ceremonial precision, were the books. All of them with pages… blank.
"Seriously?" I muttered, frustrated, tempted to toss them across the floor.
But I breathed in deeply. It was pointless.
I stepped away and moved toward the lectern. There were more books there. All… empty.
I ended up searching the entire cathedral — from the shattered pews in the back to the ruined sacristies behind the altar. I looked beneath tapestries, inside old cabinets, behind broken panels.
Nothing. No clues. No secrets.
"There's nothing here!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the dead vaults above.
The place was taunting me. I had felt — still felt — a strange weight lingering in that sanctuary… Something pulsed there. Something had kept me away for so long. Something had made me postpone this visit for days, maybe weeks. And now… just dust and illusions?
I slowly returned to the table. I intended to grab my sword and head for the city's edge. Maybe I'd find a way out there. Or something new.
But as I passed the crystal sphere… my instincts screamed.
Time seemed to slow. I turned.
And then, as if my hand no longer belonged to me, my arm shot up and I struck the sphere in one violent motion.
CRACK.
The dry snap of glass breaking echoed through the cathedral.
The sphere shattered. Shards flew. And from its core, a pale, viscous smoke began to rise, winding through the air like a hungry serpent.
It rose straight toward me.
Before I could react, scream, or run… it surged forward and plunged straight into my right eye.
"RRHHAAAAAARRRGHH!!"
The pain was like liquid fire injected into my eye socket. My body arched back violently, and my hands flew instinctively to my face — but there was no stopping it.
The smoke spun furiously inside my eye, as though drilling into it from within. I could feel every vein being touched, every nerve scraped raw by something cold… and alive.
The smoke dug down like roots into the depths of my eye, until it struck the optic nerve — slicing through it like a blade of black ice.
Then it slid down my neck. And there — there — it burned.
Not like a blade's heat. Not like the sear of embers.
It was the kind of burn that started from the inside out.
I could feel my throat vibrate, as if I were still screaming even when no sound escaped. My teeth clashed together, grinding, and my jaw was clenched so tightly I felt it fracturing.
And all I could do was scream.