NOVEL NEXT Chapter 54
Standing now, Venerable Sister Kenson brushed her robes smooth and continued, "I couldn't believe it! That was the first task the Divine System ever bestowed upon me. It read, 'Gather a flock on your journey to the Eyes of Providence headquarters, and free your student, Sir Angar of Sulfuron 9.' My old heart nearly stopped. Me, chosen for a Divine task, at my age, after all these years!"
The pang of losing Spirit's friendship struck him again, and sharply, but he buried it. "I remember seeing a large group trying to gain entrance to that building. Thank you. Your title is Venerable Sister?"
She nodded, her expression softening. "Indeed, Child. Most call elders of the Ecclesiastic stuck in the first Realm that. I'm of the Ordo Aeterna Veritas, my rank is Custos Sapientiae, and my position is Princeps Rectoria. I govern all Cloisteranages within the Erim Sector."
With a wince, she pressed her hands to her hips and twisted as many moans slipped free. "Forgive me. Age spares no one. I know you're new to this and know little of how things work. Those wedded in the Laity birthing children naturally tithe one of every two. Most nobles in this star sector send their kept children here to Saint Krakus before age twelve as aspirants.
"As you're a Knight and classified as Minor Gentry, I thought this Cloisteranage fit you best. Your situation is unique, of course, already attaining Knighthood, but you signed the same agreement all aspirants not born in or tithed to a Cloisteranage do. You shall be expected to follow the same rules such as receiving no title, same haircut, personal weapon restrictions, all of it, with very few exceptions."
Her gaze hardened. "The Eyes of Providence hunger for your blood, Child. You'll not step off this campus during any free hours. Only here can I protect and shield you. Even now, their spy drones hum above, within my own rectory, watching your every move.
"They brand you a Heretic. I reject their beliefs. I wouldn't have been granted a task by Holy Theosis if that were true. Your wounds spoke of torture. Your nails were yanked out. Those digits were purposefully removed by knife, and not in combat, as were many of the cuts and slices on you."
Her face twisted, her wrinkles deepened as disgust carved itself into her sharp features. "I understand why you fought back." She spat out the words like venom. "I've sent a letter to the grand marshal of the Eyes of Providence, as well as the Arm of the Divine, several other chapters, and to many brothers and sisters within the Ecclesiastic Ordines. Torturing a fellow Crusader, one blessed by Holy Theosis, is intolerable. It will not stand."
She exhaled sharply and drew herself up to her full height. "I allowed you that hammer as a show of faith and trust, but you cannot run around campus with it. Now, I shall personally give you a tour of our grounds and get you set…"
A sharp chime rang out, cutting her off. The front door creaked open, and her brow furrowed in curiosity.
She swept from the chapel into the main chamber, Angar close behind. A weathered man approached, middle-aged, bearded, one sleeve pinned where an arm should've been.
He halted a respectful distance away and dipped his head. "Morning, Venerable Sister. The wife bade me to pass on her regards and thanks for giving me this job."
Kenson drew herself up. With a voice filled with authority, she said, "Tell her the Church cherishes brave and devote veterans crippled in glorious service to our Holy Empire. We'll always find work for such souls. But you know entering my rectory at dawn is inappropriate. Why are you here, Child?"
"I do know, Venerable Sister," he stated. "No one's really up and about yet, and some important guests showed up. Episcopus Namgyal. She and her group were heading for the Scholarium boys' dorms, seeking a student named Angar. I reckoned you'd not want a big group of outsiders entering dorms at this hour, Episcopus or no, so I led them here. Forgive me if I erred."
Her face lit up, setting her eyes gleaming. "The Episcopus of Zanaya, here, at one of my Cloisteranages! Praise be the Three! And the student she seeks stands beside me! Surely Holy Theosis must've blessed her with a task as well. Hurry, Child, bring them in!"
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The man nodded and shuffled off. Kenson smoothed her robes, checked that no hair spilled from her strange hood, and straightened, her lips twitching as she fought a grin.
Moments later, the man returned, ushering in a group of seven men and women clad in garb so strange Angar had a hard time believing anyone would purposefully dress this way.
At their head strode who he assumed was Episcopus Namgyal, a figure of imposing grace. She was tall and wiry, her frame draped in a long, flowing garment of deep crimson, its fabric shimmering oddly, as if woven with threads of fire.
Over it hung a wide, sleeveless layer of dark blue, the edges stitched with intricate silver swirls that caught the morning's light. A broad, stiff collar rose behind her neck, framing her head like a halo, and a heavy sash of gold cloth cinched her waist, trailing to her knees.
In her right hand, she clutched a crooked, dark staff with gnarls, the top twisted into a knot that gleamed with polished amber, as if it had grown rather than been carved.
Her entourage followed, their attire almost as strange as the Episcopus' own. They wore long tunics of charcoal and gray, layered with vests of dark green or dull gold, adorned with subtle embroidery, such as curling vines or sharp, angular stars.
Wide belts bound their waists, and some bore capes that fell to their calves, the fabric rippling like shadows. Their heads were bare, save for one who wore a flat, wide-brimmed hat tilted low over the eyes.
Namgyal's gaze swept the room in a cold and imposing way, until it finally settled on Kenson. The Venerable Sister stepped forward, her hands clasped briefly before her chest, then dipped into a deep, measured, and formal bow.
Namgyal mirrored it, but bowed half as low, her staff tapping the floor once as she inclined her head.
Rising, Kenson's voice rang with restrained delight. "Episcopus Namgyal, your presence graces us beyond measure. The Three smile upon this meeting."
Namgyal's lips curved faintly. "Princeps Rectoria Kenson, the honor is mine. Holy Theosis guides my steps here," she replied with a warm and resonate voice.
Her eyes slid past Kenson, locking onto Angar with a force that pinned him in place. "So, this is Sir Angar."
Her stare bore into him in a cold and searching way, as if peeling back his flesh, and weighing his soul. The room seemed to shrink under her presence as if the air buzzed with some strange power, and some sense told Angar to be wary of this woman.
Just as Angar was going to give reply, she raised a hand and made a beckoning gesture. A woman carrying a large box moved forward to stand beside her.
She opened the box and took out what looked like a still beating heart, glowing a deep red.
Venerable Sister Kenson and the bearded man gasped as Namgyal shuddered, then bit into the heart, sending blood spraying and dripping down her face.
Three large, swirling splotches of slate-gray materialized in the air, hovering just above the ground before Namgyal and flanking her entourage on either side. They shimmered with a bizarre glow, with edges rippling like smoke, casting an eerie light across the chamber.
And this light pulsed faintly, as if alive, sending a shiver through Angar's spine. His grip tightened on his maul as unease coiled in his gut, and the air grew thick with a silent, almost palpable dread.
Before his eyes, Episcopus Namgyal and her entourage began to change. Her tall and wiry frame stretched and contorted, her crimson robes shredding as her skin blackened and split, revealing a hide of charred and glistening scales.
Her arms elongated into sinewy limbs, with fingers sharpening into jagged talons that gleamed with a sickly sheen, as though dipped in molten tar. Her face warped with those piercing eyes sinking into hollow sockets, flaring with a baleful orange glow, while her mouth stretched wide, sprouting rows of needle-like fangs that dripped with thick saliva.
The crooked staff in her hand twisted too, the amber knot cracking open to birth a writhing serpentine tendril that lashed the air.
Her followers morphed in tandem, each of their forms unraveling into grotesque monsters.
One sprouted a crown of bony spines, his gray tunic bursting as his chest swelled into a barrel of knotted muscle split by a maw that gnashed with teeth like broken glass.
Another's legs fused into a coiling, eel-like tail, her gold vestments sloughing off to reveal a torso riddled with oozing sores that wept a foul mist.
Their eyes, all of them, burned with the same infernal light, and locked on Angar with a hunger.
As the transformations unfurled, the swirling splotches grew larger. The chaotic dances slowed as they solidified into large glossy ovals. The surfaces hardened and shined like obsidian mirrors, each reflecting the chamber in distorted and nightmarish hues.
Monstrous faces within them twisted and screamed silently, trapped beyond, while tendrils of smoke curled from their edges.
The air around them shook with a low hum, a sound that buzzed in Angar's ears and set his teeth on edge. Then the arms of Hell creatures reached out of the mirrors as if to rip these rifts open wider.