"The Holy Church… stained in blood, death, and treachery."
The words fell from Francis Higer Eden's lips, the Holy Pope.
He stood motionless in the center of the grand hall, his white papal robes marred with streaks of crimson. Some of it was his own. Most of it wasn't. In his right hand, he gripped the Ferula Celesta, the golden papal staff, one of the great relics of Eden, its ornate cross glinting faintly in the flickering candlelight.
His slit-like eyes opened slowly, revealing irises of pale yellow that gleamed slightly.
Around him, the aftermath of chaos sprawled like the remnants of a nightmare.
Blood pooled in the grooves between floor tiles. Bodies, some draped in ceremonial cloth, others in armor lay scattered where they'd fallen.
Sergius.
One of the most trusted was at the center of this carnage.
Not just him. Others too. They'd revealed their true colors in blood and fire, attempting to assassinate the Saintess candidates after their cover had fell.
