Sylia, the Dark & Light Saint

Kirsten opened the exit door to the front shop and descended the narrow stairway leading to the secret basement. His hand paused on the knob of the final workshop door, hesitation gripping him for reasons he could not name. A sudden, inexplicable dread clawed at his chest. Slowly, he turned to glance behind him.

Nothing seemed out of place. At least, nothing that should have unsettled him. A few snails with bulbous, glistening eyes clung to the damp wall, their eyestalks twitching in slow, unnatural rhythm. A dark silver serpent lay coiled on the floor, its fangs barely visible as it curved its mouth into something resembling a smile.

Nothing unusual. Right?

Kirsten turned the knob and stepped inside. The corridors stretched out like a labyrinth, longer, narrower, and far darker than he remembered. The air was heavier, the shadows deeper.

Something was off.

Perhaps his associates had cast new Spells and forgotten to warn him. He would need to ask them later to make sure nothing was amiss.

At last, he reached an alcoved hall, dimly lit by magical lamps that cast strange shadows on the walls. There, a familiar figure awaited him. Kullen, his cousin and partner in crime. The man's lips curled into a thin smile the moment their eyes met.

"Took you long enough," Kullen remarked, his voice almost drowned out by the shrill, ragged cries of children somewhere deeper in the basement. The wailing was raw, edged with the final terror of those who knew death was imminent.

Even now, those little parasites could not die quietly.

Kirsten and his associates had gathered more in preparation for the next shipment. Some were purchased from desperate parents, willing to trade their offspring for the promise of coin or the false lure of a "better life." Many knew precisely what awaited their children. The Province Lord's appetites, and those of certain Royal members, were no secret.

Though Kirsten's criminal group used the Region Lord as a front, most people knew what they were up to. Those who understood did not care; those who did not… well, that was hardly Kirsten's concern. Hunger and desperation were the only reasons Commoners needed to sell their kin. Parents wanted to live better and rid themselves of another useless mouth to feed. Kirsten and Kullen were happy to oblige, offering coins or sweet promises. Sometimes both. They took those burdens from the families and, as Izranavyl had always advised, put them to better use.

"I hear more screams than usual today," Kirsten observed.

Indeed, the noise was louder than he was used to. The screams were piercing the air, giving the place a sinister feel.

Stolen story; please report.

Kirsten's eyes caught sight of small bodies dragged along the stone floor, heels scraping as their nails clawed helplessly at the ground while his acolytes hauled them toward the dissection rooms. He recognized several of the children and frowned as their screams broke into hoarse sobs while they desperately fought their captors.

Those fools never learned.

All their captives feared those chambers. To be honest, he did not like those rooms either. He had visited them several times to watch the dissection process and ensure the materials were properly collected. It was an important task. They needed that money and those favors more than anything at the moment.

He still recalled the air inside those dreadful rooms: thick with the stench of blood, the metallic tang clinging to the tongue. Even now, he could smell it clearly from the doorway and peek inside. Under the dim light, long tables stood ready, surfaces slick from earlier work. Rows of blades and hooks gleamed coldly, each prepared for a precise and necessary purpose. His acolytes would open the bodies, carve away the children's organs, and tear the Mana Hearts from their chests while they still pulsed with life.

Kullen shrugged lightly, as if the matter were hardly worth noting. "We raided a few more places last night with our common friends. Some Nobles want to cast higher Darksyn Spells, so we need more than just organs. I had to fetch a teen with a proper Stonyl Heart. It wasn't easy, mind you—his relatives fought us like cornered beasts. I couldn't fend them all off, so I tore the Stonyl Heart from the boy's chest and ran. I was under Glamourie and a Protective Hex, so I doubt they'd recognize me even if I walked right past them. Actually, you gave me the idea when you mentioned him."

Kirsten's brow furrowed, then understanding settled over him. "Ah… that one. I guess my aunt's sister is dead."

He remembered mentioning the son of Hana Carentos' sister with a disgraced Nobleman. The family lived in the countryside, fifteen miles from the City, near a village the Saints had almost entirely restored a few years ago. Kirsten would never have picked such a target for that very reason. Saints Sylia and Cesylia's Permanent Wolf Summons patrolled those roads far too often to escape their notice.

He had seen what they did to ill-intentioned trespassers. Their Wolves' Assistant Summons were certainly relentless. He still remembered vividly what they had done once to Mana and organs traffickers right before his very eyes—how they had torn the flesh of those poor men and women, leaving nothing. Not even blood.

The memory was carved so deeply into his mind it was impossible to erase.

Kirsten considered warning Kullen for a brief moment but decided against it. Why should it matter? Kullen had not only returned alive from that dangerous mission but succeeded in bringing back a rare material.

Kullen, it seemed, was a daredevil. Perhaps the Celestial residing within him was either overconfident… or simply mad. Few would dare venture so close to the Saints' protected zones.

"I'm not sure," Kullen admitted with unnerving nonchalance. "Hadia Carentos wore a protection from Sylia, the Saint. It was a trap. A Celestial was wearing her skin. Even the Stonyl Heart we took was a trap. It devoured most of our comrades."

Kirsten froze. He turned, his gaze sweeping the shadows, senses straining as panic welled within him. Kullen's tone was far too casual and too amused, given the situation. Intruders could already be inside their hideout.

Despite his magical search, Kirsten found nothing. There was no movement, no sound but the muffled cries of the dying children.

When he turned back, Kullen was smiling broadly, watching him with a glint in his eyes.

Kirsten's heart clenched, and then he knew. Something was wrong.