They didn't sneak.
They didn't hide in alleys, avoid eyes, or slip through shadowed corridors.
They walked straight up the marble steps of the Grand Cathedral.
Because sometimes fear grows stronger when you act afraid.
And sometimes the only way to challenge a throne is to approach it like it doesn't deserve one.
The doors loomed.
Carved saints stared down with eyes that once symbolized comfort. Today, they felt like warnings. Gold gilding caught dull light instead of shining. Incense burned thicker than necessary, as if the church thought smoke could hide the scent of decay.
Aiden paused only once.
Not because he doubted.
Because he respected what this place used to mean.
Seris' fingers brushed his briefly—steadying, grounding, reminding.
Liora inhaled slowly.
Then they pushed the doors open.
The sound echoed far too loudly.
---
The Grand Cathedral of Malvane's faith was a spectacle.
Tall pillars rose like judgment.
Painted ceilings depicted salvation in impossible perfection.
Rows of kneeling believers whispered fervent, uneasy prayers.
Everything was beautiful.
Beautiful the way a preserved corpse can still wear jewelry.
They walked forward.
Eyes followed.
Not all at once. But like a wave.
People stared not with reverence…
…but suspicion.
Fear.
Confusion.
Resentment?
A subtle pressure hung in the air—like being constantly measured for worth and found lacking. Devotion didn't hum warmly here. It buzzed sharply, frantic and desperate, like a prayer with a knife pressed to its throat.
Seris swallowed softly.
"…this isn't faith," she whispered.
"It's hunger," Liora murmured back.
They kept walking.
The clergy appeared before the altar.
Not welcoming.
Blocking.
Robed priests stood like columns of moral certainty… except certainty shouldn't feel this hostile. Their vestments shimmered with enchantments. Their eyes carried exhaustion disguised as zeal.
"Stop," a senior priest commanded.
Authority wrapped through the word like a chain.
"This is sacred ground. Outsiders do not simply enter demanding attention."
"Then it's a good thing we're not demanding attention," Aiden said calmly.
"We're demanding answers."
The murmur through the church sounded like wind through a graveyard.
---
From behind the clergy, a presence approached.
Not rushed. Not emotional.
Measured.
Archbishop Malvane walked with the confidence of a man who believed divinity agreed with him.
Gold-threaded robes. A serene, blessed smile. Eyes that should have held compassion…
…and instead evaluated worth.
"My children," he said warmly to the crowd first, voice echoing beautifully through enchantment and architecture alike, "be at peace. Our guests have lost their way and seek clarity. We will give them guidance."
The congregation visibly eased.
That wasn't faith.
That was manipulation that had learned to wear kindness like silk gloves.
Malvane turned to them fully.
"Aiden," he greeted smoothly. "The wandering miracle. The boy blessed with strange gifts. I had hoped we would meet in warmer circumstance."
Aiden didn't bow.
Didn't smile.
"You're killing the city," he said quietly.
The words didn't echo.
They landed.
Some people flinched.
Malvane didn't.
He only looked mildly amused.
"My child," he sighed, voice full of pity that wasn't pity at all, "the city is suffering because it lacks faith. Because doubt spreads like infection. Because the people refuse to trust the divine order of things. That pain is a test."
"And children are dying because of it," Liora said sharply, voice firm and trembling only with contained fury. "Explain how that's a test."
Malvane tilted his head gently.
"Every life belongs to destiny. Every ending lies in higher wisdom than mortal minds can accept."
Seris' jaw clenched.
"Don't patronize us."
Malvane smiled.
Not kindly.
Like a teacher amused a child thought they understood mathematics after learning to count.
---
He raised his hand.
The air tightened.
Suddenly the faithful surrounding them weren't silent observers anymore.
They were walls.
They straightened. They watched. They leaned toward their Archbishop's presence like plants toward light.
Even those who had looked uncertain before now seemed… steadier.
As if something had pressed courage—or blindness—into their hearts.
Malvane's voice stroked the room again.
"Fear harms faith," he said softly to the congregation. "Doubt harms salvation. Those who spread fear in sacred halls seek to break what holds this world together. We must stand firm together."
And in the pews…
something sharpened.
People didn't glare like zealots.
They looked hurt.
Betrayed.
As if Aiden and the others had insulted something they needed to believe in just to breathe.
Aiden realized:
This wasn't loyalty.
This was dependency.
They couldn't afford for him to be right.
Because if faith was corruption…
then everything they were clinging to was poison.
---
Malvane returned his warm gaze to Aiden.
"If you feel burdened," he said compassionately, "we can heal you. If you feel lost, we can guide you. But if you come here to accuse, disrupt, and frighten the faithful?"
The warmth disappeared beneath marble tone.
"Then you are not guests.
You are a threat."
Priests stepped closer.
Magic thrummed, sanctioned and sharpened.
The faithful did not shout.
They did not attack.
They simply stood…
ready to let their faith hurt someone for them.
Aiden exhaled slowly.
Seris shifted into stance. Liora steadied her heart.
And somewhere in the city, above roofs and far enough not to interfere yet, Inkaris watched…
and did not like what he was feeling from this place.
At all.
---
They had walked into the lion's den.
And the lion was smiling.