The Cathedral.
Even though Damien had burned the black pool and its remains, Squad Seven could not erase the vicious image from their minds.
The stench of burnt flesh and decay clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The cursed liquid had been reduced to ashes, but its presence lingered—a phantom in their thoughts. It wasn't just the smell.
The twisted and agony-filled faces of those corpses still flashed in their minds.
The twenty man was silent, no one spoke for a long time.
Sara gripped her crossbow so tightly her knuckles turned pale. Normally, she was calm under pressure, steady and reliable. But now, her fingers trembled against the wood, her gaze locked on the scorched remains of the ritual site. She hadn't looked away since the flames died down.
