Enter The Holy City

The journey down from Hecaton Mountain was a welcoming feeling. The air grew warmer, losing the crisp cold air. Their purpose changing and silence was heavy… the only interruption being the occasional, condescending chuckle from the back of the wagon.

Kivarus, the demon would watch them make camp, a smirk playing on his lips. He would listen to their conversations with fake interest, his eyes glowing with mockery in the firelight.

“You know,” he said one afternoon, his voice a low grumble that just barely carried over the sound of the wagon wheels, “this really is a monumental waste of time. For all of us.”

Heidi, who was walking alongside the wagon, her hand never far from a small book she’d acquired in Oakenworth, spun around. “And what would you know about time, demon?”

“Oh, I know a great deal,” Kivarus said, leaning against the wooden bars of his section of the wagon. “I know, for instance, that you are marching me towards a cage, when you should be thanking me for not being one of the things you should be running from. It’s all a matter of perspective, you see.”

“Shut up,” Heidi snapped, her voice getting angry.

Kivarus just laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “So much anger in such a little Goliath. You think I’m the enemy? Adorable.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that made the hairs on Elysia’s arms stand up. “I’m just a lesser of the evils this world is about to face. A symptom you say. You bring a vial of cursed draught to the healers hall as the plague fire devours the neighboring city.”

Elysia, walking on the other side of the wagon, stopped. “What do you mean? What other evils?”

The demon just smirked, leaning back and resting his head against the wood, the picture of relaxation.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Before she could press him further, Keito pointed towards the horizon.

“There,” he said. “Sanctum Luminius.”

It was… breathtaking. The city was carved from a single, massive deposit of white marble, its walls and towers shining under the afternoon sun as if lit up from within. It was a place of purity. Grand statues of robed figures stood in perfect alignment along the wide avenues. Banners of silver and gold, stamped with the sigil of the Twin Moons, hung from every building, still in the windless air. It was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a perfectly preserved corpse.

The people were the source of the problem. As they passed through the grand gates, they werent met with the bustling vibes of a city, but with a quiet still vibe. The citizens of Sanctum Luminius moved with a slow pace, their faces happy, their eyes glazed over and focused on something in the distance. They didn’t talk to each other, not in any real sense. They would pass, murmur pleasantries like “May the moons light your path” or “Salvation is at hand,” and continue on their way. There were no children playing in the streets, no merchants showing their wares, no lovers stealing a glance in a courtyard. There was only quiet, the order, and the unsettling hum of constant, whispered prayer.

“This place is creepy,” Baro muttered.

Keito’s face was a mask of deep disturbance. This was the heart of his faith, the center of his world, and it felt like a perversion of everything he held sacred. The Twin Moons represented balance, the interplay of light and shadow, of passion and peace. This place was a void, a city that had seemed to be off.

Elysia felt it as well. It was a spiritual dead zone. The vibrant life energy she felt in the forests, in the mountains, even in the streets of Aestilgard, was absent here. There was life, but it was like a blanket had been thrown over the spirit of every person within the walls.

They left Baro, Heidi, and Corin with the wagon and a still smirking Kivarus in a quiet square just inside the city gates, a necessary precaution. Keito and Elysia, with Umbra perched nervously on Elysia’s shoulder, made their way towards the Grand Sanctum, the heart of the city and the source of its weird tranquility.

The temple was a masterpiece of architecture, a mountain of white marble and gold that soared into the sky, its highest spire seeming to pierce the heavens. As they ascended the staircase, they were met by robed ministers, their faces as serene and empty as everyone else’s.

“Peace of the moons be upon you,” one of them said, his voice a soft monotone. “How may the Sanctum guide you?”

“We need to speak with the High Priest,” Keito said, his voice respectful but firm. “It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

The minister’s smile didn’t waver. “The High Priest Theron is in deep meditation. He cannot be disturbed. Perhaps you would like to join us for evening prayers? The sermon is on the virtue of patience.”

They were being shooed away, politely. They tried to argue, but it was like reasoning with a statue. They were about to be turned away when Elysia, her patience worn thin, spoke up.

“We have captured a demon,” she said, her voice clear and loud enough to make another nearby minister look over.

The effect was instant. The serene masks of the ministers cracked. A flicker of something flashed in their eyes. The first minister’s smile became a thin, tight line.

“A demon?” he repeated, his voice losing its calmness.

“Here? You are certain?”

“He is bound and waiting at the city gates,” Keito confirmed.

Without another word, the minister turned and gestured for them to follow. They were led through grand halls of polished marble, past statues of saints, deeper into the heart of the sanctum. They were brought to a pair of massive, golden doors, which were opened for them by two silent guards in silver armor.

The room within was circular, its ceiling a giant domed mosaic of the night sky, the Twin Moons depicted in shining silver. In the center of the room stood a single man, dressed in flowing white robes embroidered with silver thread. He was old, with a long, kind face, a flowing white beard, and gentle silver eyes that seemed to radiate peace. This was High Priest Theron.

“My children,” he said, his voice warm and welcoming. “My acolytes tell me you have brought a great darkness to our gates. Tell me everything.”

They explained their story… the encounter in the mountains, the controlled Goliaths, the fight, and their capture of Kivarus. Theron listened with an expression of deep sorrow, nodding along.

“It is a great and terrible evil you have faced,” he said when they had finished. “Demons are the ultimate corruption, a blight upon our world that must be purged with holy fire. You have done a great service in capturing this creature. You must bring him here, to the Sanctum, at once. We have rituals, rites of exorcism that can cleanse its foul spirit and send it screaming back to the abyss.”

Everything he said was right. Everything he said was what a High Priest should say. But something felt wrong. Elysia, confused by the moment, decided to push.

“High Priest,” she said, her voice steady. “The demon mentioned a word. He called it ‘the convergence.’ Have you… have you ever heard of such a thing?”

The change was almost non noticeable, a micro expression that lasted less than a heartbeat. But Elysia saw it. The High Priest’s gentle smile tightened at the corners. His eyes, for a split second, lost their warm, paternal focus and became cold. And in that same instant, Elysia felt familiarity …. It was the same cold presence she had felt from the monster within the Black Dragon’s mind, a feeling of corruption.

And then, it was gone.

The warmth returned to Theron’s eyes. His smile softened. The feeling of evil vanished so completely that Elysia was left wondering if she had imagined it.

“The convergence?” he repeated, his brow furrowed in thought. He shook his head slowly. “No, my child. I have spent my life studying the sacred texts. The word means nothing to me. It is likely just the desperate, mad ramblings of a cornered beast, a lie meant to sow fear and confusion.”

He clapped his hands together, his expression now one of concern. “But this only proves my point. We must not delay. The longer the demon remains in this world, the more its poison can seep into the hearts of mortals. Go now. Bring the creature to me. We will see it properly purged.” He was brushing them off, his warm voice gentle but firm. The audience was over. As they walked back through the silent halls of the Sanctum, a feeling of dread began to fill in Elysia’s stomach.

“Keito,” she whispered. “Did you see that? When I said the word?”

“I saw him hesitate,” Keito replied, his own face grim. “It was… alarming. His composure is legendary.”

“It was more than that,” Elysia said, her voice low. “I felt something. Something… like the corruption.”

They emerged from the Sanctum into the sun, the feeling of something wrong now a near certainty. They shouldn't have come here. They had made a terrible mistake. They found the others where they had left them, the wagon and its prisoner undisturbed. Elysia walked straight to the back of the wagon and looked Kivarus in the eye.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear.

The demon, who had been feigning sleep, opened one eye. A slow, triumphant smirk spread across his face.

“Oh?” he purred, his voice dripping with glee. “Did you catch that? The little flicker behind the holy man’s eyes? Did you feel that something was… off?” He sat up, his expression one of pure delight. “Need answers to questions you don’t even know you have? Well, trust me, it’s all there, right in that pretty white tower.”

He laughed. “It was a mistake bringing me here, little girl. Not for me. For you. You’ve walked into the heart of the spider’s web, and now they know you know something. It’s over for you.”

Baro and Heidi looked on, their faces confused. “What is he talking about? What’s over?” Baro demanded.

Before Elysia could even begin to explain, she heard it. A sound that didn't belong in the city. The clang of armored feet on stone. From every alleyway, from the grand avenues and courtyards, they emerged. Holy knights, their silver armor polished, their faces hidden behind the visors of their helms. They formed a perfect, inescapable circle around the wagon, their spears leveled, their shields locked.

The trap had been sprung.