The cathedral was not merely a place of worship.
Neria realized that the moment she drifted closer to its towering doors and felt the air change.
It was subtle at first.....a faint pressure against her ghostly form, like invisible fingers brushing her skin. The atmosphere hummed, dense and ancient, layered with magic so old it felt carved into the stones themselves.
"Oh," she murmured, floating beside Ravon as he approached. "This isn't just a church."
The massive doors opened with a low groan, and Ravon stepped inside without hesitation.
Neria followed.
The interior was breathtaking.
High arches stretched toward a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations and celestial beings locked in eternal motion. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the stone floor. Candles lined the aisles, their flames steady and unnaturally bright, as if fed by magic rather than wick and wax.
Rows of people filled the benches...nobles, merchants, soldiers, even cloaked figures whose presence felt… heavier.
"This is more than worship," Neria whispered. "This feels like… enforcement."
She hovered closer to Ravon, studying him.
He moved with practiced ease, bowing his head slightly as he entered, fingers brushing his chest briefly before lowering his hand.
"Oh," she said softly. "He knows the routine."
Ravon took his place among the attendees, standing when they stood, kneeling when they knelt, observing every ritual with precision.
Neria watched closely.
He bowed his head...not reverently, but respectfully. He listened...not devoutly, but attentively.
"He's not praying," she realized. "He's observing."
A priest stepped forward, robes white and gold, voice echoing through the hall as he spoke of balance, light, and vigilance against corruption.
Neria folded her arms, floating upside down for a better view.
"Okay," she muttered, "so this cathedral is clearly magical FBI headquarters disguised as holy vibes."
The service continued.
Chants echoed. Magic pulsed faintly through the air. Symbols glowed briefly before fading.
Ravon never once looked distracted.
Not even when a child sneezed loudly three rows ahead.
Impressive, Neria thought. I'd have zoned out by minute three.
When the service finally ended, people rose slowly, filing out in orderly lines.
Ravon did not move.
He waited.
Neria blinked. "Oh? Staying behind? What, you forgot to confess your sins?"
He remained still until the last echo of footsteps faded.
Until the cathedral was empty.
Then....he moved.
All at once.
Ravon turned sharply, walking toward the altar with long, decisive strides.
Neria floated ahead of him, curiosity burning.
"Okay, now this is suspicious," she whispered. "Do not tell me you're about to sacrifice a goat."
He stopped behind the altar.
Placed his hand against the stone wall.
And pushed.
Click.
The altar shifted.
A hidden door creaked open, revealing a narrow stairway descending into darkness.
Neria gasped loudly.
"Oh come ON," she said. "A secret underground staircase in a church? Is this a fantasy requirement or something?"
The darkness below seemed to swallow light whole.
Ravon stepped forward without pause.
Neria panicked.
"WAIT—wait—what are you doing?" she blurted, floating frantically after him. "Is this where you store illegal artifacts? Or....oh gods....are you doing drugs down here?...I knew you couldn't just be rich"
Her voice echoed uselessly.
Ravon did not react.
He descended.
Each step echoed softly, controlled, deliberate.
The air grew colder.
Thicker.
Neria hugged herself.
"This is how horror movies start," she muttered. "Except I'm already dead, so I guess I lose or gain twice."
The stairs ended in a wide underground chamber.
The space was eerily calm.
Too calm.
Smooth stone walls bore ancient runes etched deep, glowing faintly with suppressed magic. The silence pressed in like a held breath.
Neria floated closer to Ravon.
"Okay," she whispered. "You can't hear me, but I feel obligated to say this....this is a bad idea."
The air shifted.
A pulse of dark energy exploded forward....
Neria screamed.
"RAVON...!!!!!"
But he was already moving.
The dark blast tore through where he had been standing a heartbeat earlier, slamming into the wall and cracking stone.
Ravon twisted mid-step, coat flaring, obsidian eyes glowing sharply.
Two figures emerged from the shadows.
Witches.
Their magic was wrong.
Dark veins traced their skin, eyes glowing sickly violet, hair floating unnaturally around them.
Neria recoiled.
"Oh," she whispered. "Dark witches. That figures....i do watch the online but this is real life mehnnn....or my life."
One of them sneered. "You're late, Lord Ravon."
Ravon said nothing.
He lunged.
The fight exploded into motion.
Dark magic clashed against refined, lethal precision. Ravon moved like a shadow sharpened into a blade....dodging, striking, weaving through attacks with frightening ease.
Neria hovered helplessly above, watching in shock.
"He's not even chanting," she whispered. "He's just… doing it."
A witch screamed, launching chains of shadow.
Ravon snapped his wrist—light shattered the chains instantly.
Another witch charged, blade formed from black magic.
Ravon caught her wrist.
Crack.
He twisted.
The sound echoed sickeningly.
Neria winced. "Okay, yep, he's terrifying."
The second witch tried to flee.
Ravon snapped his fingers.
The witch froze mid-step.....mouth open in a silent scream.
Mute.
Neria stared. "He just… took her voice."
Without hesitation, Ravon turned and struck the first witch down.
Dark magic dispersed like smoke.
Silence fell.
The surviving witch collapsed, shaking, unable to speak.
Neria floated closer, stunned.
"He didn't hesitate," she whispered. "Not even once."
Footsteps echoed.
The man from the carriage appeared through the hidden door, bowing.
"My lord," he said calmly, as if this were routine.
He glanced at the bodies. "Shall I take her to the spot?"
Ravon nodded once.
"And the dead one," Ravon added coolly. "We will need it."
Neria's glow flickered.
"…Need it?" she whispered. "For WHAT?"
The man bowed again, lifting the mute witch effortlessly.
"Yes, my lord."
They vanished.
Neria hovered alone with Ravon in the silent chamber.
Her mind spun.
"He's not a wizard," she whispered slowly. "He's worse."
Ravon turned, walking back toward the stairs.
Neria followed, shaken.
"I really need to go home," she murmured. "Before I accidentally become an accomplice."
The darkness swallowed them as they ascended.