POV: Elara Vane
The Silent Valley was not named for a lack of sound. It was named because here, every noise—even the smallest whisper—seemed sucked away by the towering white marble walls, leaving behind a sterile, oppressive silence.
Hidden behind the border mountains of the Holy Empire of Celestia, stood the Convent of Saint Marigold.
A magnificent structure built of pure white stone and gold, from a distance it looked like God's crown fallen to earth. But to Elara, this place was nothing more than a prison wrapped in hypocritical prayers.
Elara sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor inside the Oratory Chamber. The room was circular, with a high dome adorned with paintings of angels wielding swords of light. Twilight sunbeams pierced the large stained-glass windows, refracting rainbows onto her small body.
She was now eight years old. Her silver hair, once often stroked by Elian, was now left long enough to touch the floor, glistening like silk threads under the light. However, her sky-blue eyes no longer held a sparkle of joy. They were empty, dim, and filled with unspoken sorrow.
"Breathe in rhythm with the heartbeat of this convent, Elara. Do not fight the light. Let it fill every corner of your sinful soul."
The voice came from Archbishop Benedict, an old man in white robes embroidered with shimmering platinum thread. He stood behind Elara, his thin hand resting on the little girl's shoulder. The touch should have felt like a blessing, but to Elara, it felt like the grip of an eagle's talon.
"It hurts..." Elara whispered. Her voice was small and hoarse.
"Pain is the process of purification," Benedict replied emotionlessly. "The Red Aura you possess is both a blessing and a curse. It is too wild, too full of worldly rage. We are helping you transform it into pure Holy Light."
Elara gritted her teeth. She didn't want this light.
In the center of the room, a massive floating crystal artifact—The Heart of Marigold—began to pulse. Every time the sphere pulsed, Elara felt energy from within her body, from her prematurely awakened Aura Core, being forcibly drawn out.
This was the "Harmonization Ritual." So they called it. But Elara knew the truth. They were draining her. They took her natural talent, refined it through pain, and stored it inside that crystal ball to strengthen the convent's protective Barrier.
She was a battery. A living vessel of energy.
Every time this ritual occurred, shadows of the past hit her. Memories of the day her world shattered. She still remembered the smell of smoke at the Vane estate. She still remembered Hanna's grip dragging her away. And most painful of all... she still remembered Elian's face falling into the abyss of darkness.
Brother Elian...
That name was the only thing keeping her sane in this place. Even though the whole world said Elian was dead—even though she saw her brother fall into the raging river flowing toward monster territory—Elara refused to fully believe it.
However, the longer she stayed here, the thinner that hope became, eroded by the cold piercing her soul.
"Archbishop," a voice interrupted from the doorway. An Inquisitor clad in silver armor knelt. "A message from Broken Fang has arrived."
Benedict removed his hand from Elara's shoulder. "Speak."
"Quartermaster Silas has failed. He is dead. And the cargo... the cargo is being escorted by an Elf woman and a boy."
Elara sharpened her hearing. The names "Elf" and "boy" triggered a strange vibration within her Aura Core. However, she immediately suppressed the feeling. She must not show any reaction in front of Benedict.
"A boy?" Benedict narrowed his eyes. "Is it 'him'?"
"We cannot be certain, Your Eminence. But the boy possesses the ability to kill our Inquisitors at the pier. Silas referred to him as the 'Child Beloved by the World'."
Benedict fell silent for a moment, then looked down at Elara. "This world is full of anomalies that must be corrected immediately, Elara. You see? Even out there, there are children like you misled by darkness."
Elara didn't answer. She kept staring straight ahead, toward the setting sun.
"Increase the frequency of the rituals," Benedict ordered the priests surrounding him. "We must ensure Elara reaches the Awakening stage before the Red Moon arrives. If that cargo is truly heading here, we need the full power of our 'Saintess' to welcome it."
The priests began chanting in a monotonous ancient language.
The light inside the room exploded into blinding brightness, swallowing Elara's body. She felt as if her skin were being flayed layer by layer by thousands of blades of light. She wanted to scream, but her voice was gone.
Amidst that torture, Elara closed her eyes tightly.
In the darkness behind her eyelids, she imagined smooth black hair and deep black eyes. She imagined a warm embrace, not this burning light.
If you are still alive, Brother... please don't come here, Elara thought, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. This place isn't heaven. It's a shining hell. Run... run as far away as possible.
She didn't know that the "ghost" she wept for was slicing through the grey ocean waves, carrying twin Karambits thirsty for the blood of her oppressors.
***
POV: Elian
Three days had passed since the events at Broken Fang.
Elian stood at the bow of The Banshee's Wail, staring at the coastline now clearly visible. Towering snow-capped mountains marked the border of the Holy Empire of Celestia. Their peaks looked like giant teeth piercing the sky.
Elian's appearance had changed again. He no longer wore tattered robes. He wore light black knight attire stolen from one of the Inquisitors—clothing designed to mask movement and withstand cold winds. His long black hair was now tied in a high ponytail with sailor's hemp rope, revealing his beautiful face that now possessed a deadly cold aura.
On his left index finger, the Ring of Weight seemed fused with his skin. Elian no longer felt "heavy" in the sense of a hindering burden; instead, he felt that weight as part of his body's density. His movements became deceptively slow at a glance, but every step he took carried force capable of cracking the deck wood if he wasn't careful.
"We will land at Silent Bay in two hours," Lunaria's voice came from behind.
Elian didn't turn. He was sharpening his Twin Karambits. The shhhk... shhhk... sound of the Basalt-Mana whetstone was consistent, rhythmically matching his heartbeat.
"Silas's information about Elara's transfer... do you think it's true?" Elian asked.
"Silas was a snake. Snakes usually give correct information to lure you into a bigger trap," Lunaria replied, leaning against the mast. "That convent is likely a fortress. Celestia won't let their precious 'battery' be stolen without a fight. You will face Templar Knights and Inquisitors in large numbers."
"How many of them do I need to kill for them to understand?" Elian asked flatly.
Lunaria looked at her student's back. She saw the change in Elian. The boy no longer trembled when talking about killing. His emotions had begun to settle, cool, and crystallize into a dark resolve.
"All of them, if necessary," Lunaria answered. "But remember your goal. We are here to retrieve Elara, not to raze Celestia single-handedly. For now."
Captain Barossa approached them, his scarred face looking grim.
"Listen, Kid," Barossa said. "After you disembark at Silent Bay, our paths part. I've taken a huge risk bringing you this far. If you get caught, my name never leaves your mouth."
Elian turned, staring at Barossa with his deep black eyes. "You have been paid, Captain. Your silence was bought by my safety last night."
Barossa grunted, but he handed a small package to Elian. "Here. A map of the rat paths to Silent Valley. It's the route used by smugglers of holy cargo. Use it if you don't want to die at the main gate."
Elian accepted the package. "Thank you, Captain. May the sea bring you luck."
"Tch, don't pray for me with your cursed luck," Barossa grumbled as he walked away.
The ship began to slow as it entered shallow waters filled with sharp reefs. Silent Bay appeared ahead—a black rocky beach with perpetual fog shrouding the land.
Elian inhaled the cold land air. Air carrying the scent of pine, snow, and... something holy yet rotten.
He fingered the silver badge in his pocket. The Pilgrim's Badge.
One more step, Elara.
Elian knew, once his feet touched the soil of Celestia, he was no longer a fugitive. He would become a predator in the land of gods. He didn't care if Elara didn't recognize him. He didn't care if he had to become the most wanted criminal on the continent.
Staring at the peaks of the convent beginning to appear in the distance, Elian squeezed the hilt of his Karambit.
The weight of the ring on his finger throbbed, as if calling the gravity of the entire world to crash down upon that convent.
"Let's go, Master," Elian said.
Lunaria smiled thinly, a smile that promised bloodshed. "Let's see how 'holy' this place really is."