"Your Eminence, you summoned me? Do you have instructions?"
Ryan Evans, a high-ranking vampire, approached Cardinal Alofman and spoke with profound respect.
They were in the private lounge behind the Tribunal. The room was the height of luxury, stocked with every amenity imaginable. Two young attendants stood silently in the corners.
The Red-Robed Cardinal—the very same man who had interrogated Rey—nodded slightly and extended his right foot a small step forward. Ryan, already bowing, fluidly dropped to his knees and kissed the Cardinal's instep.
It was the Rite of Submission. In the Holy Church, only those at the level of a Cardinal could demand such a gesture.
After the ritual, they both stood. Alofman raised his eyelids, a smile spreading across his face as if greeting an old friend. "Welcome back, my friend. Tell me, has the infant you brought us... has he awakened?"
Ryan wore a natural, polite smile, careful not to look arrogant just because the Cardinal had called him a 'friend.'
"Your Eminence, he is still in a deep slumber," Ryan replied, his voice dripping with humility and exaggerated reverence. Even though Alofman only asked about the baby—completely ignoring the heavy losses Ryan's people had suffered to retrieve him—Ryan's smile didn't waver. "To wake him, we may need to prepare the Rite of Soul Sanctification."
"Soul Sanctification..."
Alofman murmured, toying with the jet-black wand he had used during Rey's interrogation.
Snap!
A crisp sound echoed through the room. Alofman had snapped the black wand in two with his bare hands. A faint mist of light rose up, signifying the death of the wand's magical core.
He frowned, glancing at the fragile pieces in his hand before tossing them carelessly onto the floor.
One of the attendants, as if waiting for this exact moment, immediately pulled a brand-new wand from his robes. Holding it with both hands, he bowed low and presented it to Alofman. Only after the Cardinal took the new wand did the attendant pick up the broken remains from the floor and retreat to his station.
Twirling the new wand, Alofman was silent for a long while before speaking. "Could we not extract the souls of other children and infuse them into him...?"
He hadn't committed to the Soul Sanctification yet. Perhaps he was hesitant about the cost, or maybe he wanted to find a shortcut.
"Your Eminence," Ryan said smoothly, "while we haven't tested that method, doing so might ruin all our efforts. A body without a soul requires a naturally generated soul to achieve perfect compatibility. Furthermore, if he wakes up naturally, the supply of Wizarding blood he will produce as an adult..."
Ryan knew exactly when to stop, letting the implication hang in the air. He didn't need to finish the sentence; the Cardinal could imagine the rest perfectly well.
The flush of excitement on Alofman's face was proof enough.
When it comes to sensing human vitality and blood, vampires are second to none. Ryan knew the Cardinal was hooked.
Snap!
Another crisp sound. The new wand was also broken. Alofman had made his decision.
"Find an opportunity. I will personally petition the Pope for a Rite of Soul Sanctification."
---
With the decision made, the two chatted for a while longer.
Before leaving, Ryan performed the Rite of Submission again, kissing the Cardinal's foot, and then backed out of the lounge.
Once he was outside, the humble mask dropped, replaced by a mocking sneer.
His goal was finally achieved. With the Pope's Soul Sanctification—a high-level blessing similar to a charm that can bring inanimate objects to life—he was confident the child would wake up.
Ryan had learned of the child's existence from the steward of the MacFusty clan. He had sacrificed his entire lineage of vampires to secure that baby.
As long as the child woke up and grew, Ryan would have an endless source of magical wizard blood. With that, he could become a true, living vampire—perhaps even rivaling the legendary Vampire King and Queen of old.
Heh. truly laughable...
Ryan chuckled internally. The joke, of course, was on Cardinal Alofman.
This Cardinal was the Pope's favorite, deeply trusted and blessed with the "Prayer of Light." This blessing allowed him to use "Holy Arts"—which were essentially wandless magic. The only difference was that the magical signature appeared pure and white, devoid of any "filth."
For people like Alofman, wands were actually a hindrance. They were like vessels, their bodies directly infused with raw magical power by the Pope.
Aside from the Pope himself, only three people in the Church held this power. Alofman was one of them.
But when a standard Muggle suddenly gains magical power, their ego inflates infinitely. And for Alofman, that inflation manifested most rapidly in his decaying private life.
When Ryan had kissed his foot, he could smell the revolting stench of rot.
The skin on the Cardinal's feet was festering; his blood smelled foul. For a man like that, Ryan only needed to offer a drop of blood—the kind that could revitalize even a vampire—to hook him completely.
Alofman wanted a blood transfusion. He wanted to replace his entire body's blood supply, and he wanted to use the magical blood of that child to do it.
Human greed is infinite; it's only limited by one's station in life. For a man in a position of supreme power like Alofman, the desire to live outweighed everything.
Every time the Pope performed the Prayer of Light, it shortened his own lifespan. The Rite of Soul Sanctification was even more taxing.
But Ryan knew that for the sake of his own survival, Alofman would find a way to convince the Pope to perform the ritual.
---
Underground, The Sixth Circle of Hell.
This was where Rey saw the Dementors.
There were so many of them. Some were massive, others smaller; some were pitch black like ink, while others were thin, gray, and semi-transparent.
After they finished feeding on the emotions in the room, a faint light returned to the cavern. The light was dim, emanating from the rock walls themselves, likely some form of luminescent moss or stone.
It allowed Rey to see the entire underground world.
It was a massive natural cavern with signs of artificial excavation. It wound deeper into the earth, with no end in sight.
Scattered throughout this dark world were piles of desiccated corpses. They were of all ages, but judging by their size, the vast majority were children who hadn't even reached adulthood.
Right next to Rey's feet, there were at least five bodies. The sheer volume of death made his scalp tingle with horror.
Terrified, Rey scrambled backward. The ground was sloped, and he lost his balance, falling onto his backside.
In the distance, scattered about, were the people currently being drained by the Dementors. They didn't look like humans anymore—more like dried husks that still, somehow, clung to a shred of life. It was unclear what dark magic the Church had used on them to keep them in this state, denying them the release of death.
Perhaps a curse bound their souls to their bodies, forcing them to be slowly, agonizingly consumed by the Dementors until absolutely nothing remained.
The stench of rot in the air had assaulted Rey's nose the moment he entered. He was now breathing through his mouth, gasping, trying to calm the shock hammering in his chest.
This is the Church's idea of Hell... How many people have they killed to build a place like this?
He was shocked. Terrified. It would be a miracle if anyone could face this alone without going insane.
Looking at the scene before him, Rey felt a chilling realization: perhaps the Church was the greatest evil in this world. The greatest demon of all, raising a farm of Dementors to feed on human souls.
The opening and closing of the stone door had naturally attracted the Dementors' attention. They had just finished feeding, but the few surviving victims were merely a drop in the bucket for such a large swarm.
When Rey—a fresh, vibrant human soul—was thrown in, it triggered a frenzy.
A chorus of rattling breaths and screeching roars erupted. Out of control and starving, the Dementors surged toward the stone door, rushing straight for Rey.
---