The evening sun was already sinking beneath the horizon when Loir’s eyes snapped open.


    His head throbbed. His body ached. His mouth tasted like metal. Slowly, he sat up, blinking at the dim light coming through the small window. The walls of the infirmary were cold and bare, the silence heavy.


    Loir: "Aughhh… Where am I?"


    Loir rubbed his face. His fingers brushed over the dried crust beneath his left eye. His breath quickened as something stirred deep in his mind , an uneasy feeling, like a whisper at the edge of his thoughts.


    But no memory surfaced.


    Footsteps echoed faintly outside the door. Evening prayer was already over. He had missed an entire day.


    Loir: (softly) "Whoever treated my wounds is long gone… But why is no one guarding the infirmary?"


    Loir sat there for a moment, his hands trembling against his knees. He needed to know what had happened.


    He slipped out of the infirmary quietly. His steps were light as he crossed the stone path toward the Grand Cathedral.


    The courtyard was empty. The white marble towers of the cathedral stretched into the dark sky, their edges glowing faintly beneath the moonlight. The heavy iron gates were closed, and the silhouettes of armored figures stood before them.


    Templars.


    They stood perfectly still, their long white cloaks shifting gently with the breeze. Helmets covered their faces, and the moonlight reflected off the polished steel of their armor. These warriors did not sleep. They would not hesitate to cut down anyone who crossed the threshold without permission.


    Loir’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t get through the front or the back.


    But there was another way.


    He moved toward the side of the cathedral, keeping low and slipping through the narrow shadow of the wall. There was a side entrance a smaller service door that the priests used. Loir had seen it opened before during evening cleanup. He pressed his hand to the edge of the door.


    It was unlocked.


    Loir slipped through. The hinges creaked softly as the door shut behind him.


    The cathedral was dark. Tall pillars lined the hall, their shadows stretching across the cold floor. The vaulted ceiling loomed above, disappearing into the dark.


    The only light came from the flickering prayer candles along the pews. The scent of incense lingered faintly in the air.


    Loir’s gaze drifted toward the altar. The crystal ball was gone.


    He moved down the center aisle, his hand brushing the smooth wood of the pews. His eyes lifted toward the golden mural of Elos, the Sacred Light. His outstretched arms shone faintly in the dim candlelight. His face was calm and peaceful.


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    Too calm.


    A sound broke the silence stone scraping against stone.


    Loir’s breath hitched. He spun toward the altar.


    Behind the altar, a section of the marble floor was sliding open. A hidden panel.


    Loir ducked behind a pillar, his heart racing.


    A long stairway stretched into the dark beneath the floor. Cold air drifted up from the opening, carrying the faint scent of ash and steel.


    Loir’s eyes widened. He knew what this was.


    Sir Marlok used to tell them stories about it , a gateway to heaven beneath Paradise. A sacred passage that only opened once every thousand years, when the Sacred Light called for it.


    But that was just a story.


    So why was it opening now?


    Soft footsteps echoed from the stairway.


    And then he appeared.


    A figure stepped into the cathedral.


    Tall. Too tall. His head nearly brushed the high ceiling. His armor was black, so dark it seemed to bend the light around it. Silver edges lined the plates, shaped like the wings of a predator.


    Two massive wings stretched from his back , dark feathers laced with faint crimson light. The tips flicked softly as he moved.


    His face was hidden beneath a dark helm. Thin silver etchings ran down its sides like veins. His breath echoed faintly beneath the metal.


    He carried a long naginata in his hand. The curved blade gleamed in the low light, a faint red shimmer dancing along the steel.


    Loir’s breath stopped. His body locked up as the figure’s gaze swept the hall beneath the dark visor.


    Loir couldn’t see his eyes, but he felt them. Cold and piercing.


    For a moment, the figure stood still beneath the golden light of Elos. His head tilted slightly as though listening to something unseen.


    Then, without a word, he turned toward the open gate.


    His steps were slow. Controlled. Each one sent a faint echo through the hall.


    Loir pressed himself against the pillar, barely breathing as the figure strode toward the open gate.


    The floor slid shut behind him. The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed through the cathedral.


    Loir remained frozen, his heart hammering in his chest.


    What… was that?


    His breath was shaky as he stepped away from the pillar. His mind was still reeling when---


    CRACK!


    Pain exploded at the back of his skull.


    Loir’s vision blurred. His knees buckled. The last thing he saw was the golden mural of Elos above him, shimmering faintly in the dark.


    Darkness swallowed him whole.


    Loir’s eyes fluttered open.


    Soft light pressed against his eyelids. His head throbbed. Slowly, his gaze sharpened on the smooth ceiling above him.


    He was back in the infirmary.


    A faint scent of incense clung to the air.


    Loir sat up, rubbing the back of his head. His fingers brushed over a fresh bandage. His arms were weak, trembling.


    The door creaked open. Bishop Aeron stepped inside, his expression calm yet unreadable.


    Bishop Aeron: "You’re awake."


    Loir swallowed. His throat was dry.


    Loir: (hoarse) "What… happened?"


    Aeron studied him for a moment before setting a small glass of water on the bedside table.


    Bishop Aeron: "I found you unconscious near the western wing of the cathedral this morning."


    Loir blinked. Morning?


    Loir: (slowly) "I… don’t remember anything."


    Aeron’s gaze didn’t waver.


    Bishop Aeron: "You were injured. But no one saw what happened to you. I had you brought back here to recover."


    Something cold curled in Loir’s chest. His fingers dug into the sheets.


    He couldn’t remember.


    Nothing.


    Only the feeling of something pressing against his mind, just out of reach.


    Aeron placed a hand on his shoulder.


    Bishop Aeron: (quietly) "Rest now, Loir. The Light will guide you."


    The bishop turned and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.


    Loir sat in silence.


    His head still ached. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was the emptiness.


    Something had happened last night.


    Something he wasn’t supposed to remember.


    And someone… had made sure of it.