When order returned to the chapel, Father Bernard moved after the guard without a word, gesturing for Sister Agnes and Sister Miriam to follow at his heels.A cluster of guards marched ahead leading them.
Sister Miriam, her brow knit, finally broke the silence.
"Father… what of Richard? Why is he being sent to the city so suddenly?"
Bernard's steps did not falter. His voice was too calm.
"Richard's path is no longer here. He carries a light meant for greater places. You, Sister Miriam, will accompany him."
Miriam blinked. "Me? But—"
He raised a hand, cutting her short, his gaze fixed forward.
"All will be explained in due time. The city will give clarity where questions only breed confusion."
Sister Agnes glanced at him, her lips pressed tight. "And where, Father, are we going now?"
Bernard's eyes flicked toward the looming silhouette of an old, half-ruined building ahead. His reply was colder, edged with finality.
"To see the devil we have caught."
The sisters exchanged a look but said no more.
When they reached the derelict building, the guards who had returned from the forest were gathered outside. Their armor was dented, their tunics torn and bloodied. Sister Agnes's face paled at the sight.
"Merciful saints… what happened to you?"
Bernard gave a silent nod to the captain. The man grimaced, then turned and motioned them inside.
The stairwell smelled. Each step downward seemed to leech the warmth from the air. Torches sputtered weakly along the stone walls, throwing uneven light into the shadows.
At the bottom, in the basement's dark heart, Elias was chained. Heavy iron fetters bound his wrists and ankles, bolted into the stone. His head hung low, hair hiding his face, but the faint rise and fall of his chest betrayed life.
Even unconscious, there was something wrong—his body tensed and twitched, veins glowing faintly beneath the skin as though some monstrous thing stirred within.
The sisters froze.Sister Agnes clutched her rosary. Sister Miriam's lips parted in horror.
The captain's voice was low, grim.
"He fought like a beast, Father. Steel barely touched him.My men nearly died."
Bernard stepped forward, his expression unreadable in the flickering torchlight. He studied the chained boy for a long, silent moment, and then spoke softly, almost to himself.
"Yes. This is no orphan boy. This is what the Church feared might come."
Sister Agnes's face burned with anger, her voice trembling.
"You chained one of our children, Father. An orphan I raised beneath these very walls!"
Father Bernard did not flinch. He lifted the heavy crucifix in his hand, its silver catching the flicker of the lanterns. His voice was sharp,
"Then tell me, Sister—what is this?"
Sister Agnes's breath hitched. "It is the holy Christ. The vessel through which one channels the Lord's power."
"Good," Bernard said grimly. He turned, seized Elias's arm, and with a swift motion drew his blade across the boy's wrist. Blood welled out—red at first, ordinary, human.
But when Bernard pressed the crucifix to the flowing wound, the chapel air turned heavy. The blood darkened, twisting from crimson into oily black. The sight made the sisters recoil.
Father Bernard's jaw tightened. "In all my years, I have never seen this. A devil that shifts his blood, yet does not tremble under holy light…"
Sister Agnes staggered back, her lips parting, eyes fixed on the boy she had once cradled, named, and called her own. "No… Elias…"
Her disbelief only made Bernard's tone harsher. "You see it now. You can no longer deny what he is."
He turned to the two women, raising the crucifix again. His face was pale from the strain of holding the relic steady.
"Come. Place your hands here. Lend me your strength. Alone, my power may not be enough to bind what festers in him."
Sister Agnes hesitated, her hand trembling. She knew what it meant—once the holy rite began, Elias would not survive. But before she could decide, Sister Miriam stepped forward and pressed her palm against the crucifix without pause.
Father Bernard wasted no time. His voice rose in a deep, resonant chant, each word echoing with force that seemed to weigh upon the very air. The crucifix flared, light spilling from its edges until the shadows in the basement shriveled away.
For both Agnes and Miriam, it was the first time their inner holy powers were called forth. The strain hit them instantly, bones felt heavy, lungs burned, and every breath came as if dragged through fire.
Elias writhed in his chains, his scream reverberating like a beast caught between worlds. His flesh warped and split, his body twisting, swelling, muscle tearing through cloth, bones groaning and reshaping. His human form ruptured into something monstrous, his height swelling until his head scraped the ceiling.
The guards braced themselves, steel flashing in the holy light.
"Hold the line!" barked the captain, planting himself before the sisters.
One by one, the iron chains snapped with sharp, echoing cracks.
"Father, hurry!" the captain shouted, sweat running down his brow.
Elias roared, a sound so deep it rattled the stone walls, and raised a clawed hand the size of a man's chest. But before the blow could fall, Bernard's chant reached its final verse.
The crucifix blazed, and a spear of radiant light erupted forth, striking Elias squarely in the chest. His monstrous body convulsed, skin and sinew peeling away as the light consumed him. With a final roar, he disintegrated into ash, scattered by the brilliance.
Then—silence.
Father Bernard sagged, nearly falling, the crucifix dim in his grasp. Both sisters collapsed beside him, gasping for air, sweat streaking their faces.
"Get them up!" the captain barked. Guards rushed forward, lifting the three onto their shoulders. "Quickly, get them treated!"
They hurried up the stairwell, away from the stench of burned flesh. The basement door slammed shut behind them.
For a moment, all was still.
Then, from the depths below, a guttural roar split the air—louder, fiercer than before. The sound shook the very timbers of the abandoned building.
The captain froze, eyes wide, as a sick realization sank in.
In the basement, where only ash should have remained, flesh was knitting together. Elias's charred body pulsed with black veins as muscle reformed. The boy-beast rose once more,stronger, hungrier,before tearing into the guards left behind in the dark.