Chương 42: Chapter 41: Hysteria and Madness

Alice stepped into the cafeteria, beholding the familiar sight of her classmates scattered across the tables, eating and talking. But their voices were softer than she remembered. They took their meals from the counter—a simple beef soup and a slice of bread on the side. Jack led them to the furthest table in the back, isolated from the rest of the babbling children.

"Finally, I'm starving." Evelyn plopped down in her seat.

"You hardly ate when Alice was away." Jack sighed and sat down.

"I almost feared you'd starve to death."

"I did no such thing! Don't believe him, Alice!" Evelyn shook her head.

"Right, right." Alice dryly laughed.

"You don't believe me?" Evelyn pouted.

"Fine, think what you want." She grumbled, but there was no malice in her words. Alice placed her platter on the table and sat down. A loud noise crashed through the cafeteria doors, and the violent stench of rusting iron rushed into her lungs, overwhelming the smell of soup. The room went silent. Alice's gaze shot toward the ragged boy who had just barged through the doors. He stood there hunched, dark-haired and pale, with a faint redness crawling in from the whites of his eyes.

He heaved, clutching something like a piece of black, wavy cloth against his chest, dripping crimson rivulets down his white shirt. That smell… that's blood! Alice sprang from her seat. Jack instantly stood up and turned toward the boy, while Evelyn stared out confused at first, but a worried expression suddenly swept across her face.

"Listen to me!" The boy shrieked.

"They're lying! They're lying to us!"

"Alice, get behind me." Jack walked in front of Alice. Alice grabbed Evelyn's arm, pulling her away from the table.

"What's going on?" Evelyn murmured in fear.

"I don't know. Just stay close." Alice clenched her teeth. The smell's coming from him! What did he do?! Is he about to succumb?! One of the girls, a short one with a bob of brown hair, slowly walked toward the boy from the side.

"Richard… are you alright? What's happening?"

"They're lying! Didn't you hear me?!" The boy screamed.

"My father's dead! They didn't tell me! They said he was still alive!"

"Where the hell are the priests?" Jack curled his fist into a ball. Alice gazed at the only exit: the doors standing behind the rabid boy. Shit. Are the ghouls not going to do anything? The ghouls by the counter stood completely still, watching the madness unfold like the corpses they were.

"It isn't just me!" Richard pointed at Jack.

"My friend! Your family's been butchered! They didn't tell you, did they? Killed like fucking dogs!" Jack paled.

"You've gone mad!" Evelyn wrapped her arm around Alice's. She was shaking, and she prayed beneath her breath.

"Goddess… help us…"

"The Lady has abandoned us! Your mother and sister are dead, Evelyn! She doesn't care!" Richard snarled, spitting out a slimy blackness. Everyone else had already stood up, eyes locked on the boy, with some backing away in fear while others slowly made their way toward the door. Hushed prayers and frightened whimpers rang all about.

"No one believes me? You're all fools! It spoke to me during the test! Didn't it speak to you too?!" Then his bloodshot gaze landed on Alice. And his face turned wicked, as if he'd just seen his father's murderer.

"It's you! You're the one I saw! It's all your fault! Your fault!"

"Richard! Please stop this! You're scaring us!" The brown-haired girl pleaded, taking one step closer to him.

"Be silent!" Richard threw the black mass across the floor, leaving behind a trail of deep crimson. A spine-chilling realization came over Alice. It was hair—hair still attached to a bloodied scalp. The girl let out a frightened scream. Richard hurled himself at her, pinning her to the ground. Then he tore out her throat, stuffing his mouth with the ripped flesh. Screams broke across the cafeteria, and the children fled toward the doors.

Richard's bloodshot gaze landed on Alice, and he bolted toward her like a wild animal. Alice ran for the gate, pulling Evelyn along with her.

"Jack! Come with us!" Evelyn yelled, but didn't dare look back. Jack tackled Richard to the ground, and he yelled, "Run! I'll hold him! Get some—" There was a violent ripping noise. Alice gazed behind her shoulder and paled. Jack's head was lying on the ground, his headless corpse slumping beside it. Richard was rising to his feet, wearing a rabid look across his face. Oh God! No! Alice dashed as fast as she could toward the gate.

"Don't look! Just run!" Please! Someone! I can't let her get hurt! Not her! The others ran into the hallways in a frenzied terror. Just as Alice was about to reach the gate, a black-robed priest rushed inside. It was Father Orlando, and a frightening purple limb lurched from his back, emitting a blinding light from its open palm. Then there was an ear-piercing noise, and for a split second the entire world flashed purple. Alice rushed past Orlando, and for a moment she gazed back into the room.

Richard's entire half was gone, leaving behind the bloodless stump of his waist. What the hell was that?

"Run! Keep running!" Alice yanked Evelyn down the hallway and made a break toward the others.

"Jack's still there!" Evelyn broke free from Alice's grasp and rushed back.

"Father! You have to help—" She suddenly froze in place as she stared into the now-silent room. Oh no… she saw it.

"Alice, take her away." Orlando gazed solemnly at Alice and shut the cafeteria doors. Alice gulped and clutched Evelyn's limp arm.

"We have to go. Come on." Tears swelled in the corners of Evelyn's eyes, her mouth half open in shock.

"Jack… his head was on the—""I know, I know. But we have to go." Alice pulled Evelyn away from the door.

"Everything's going to be fine. I promise. I'm with you." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Jack's dead… I have to protect Evelyn. I have to protect her. Arno sat down in his office chair, holding his forehead as he felt a god-awful dizziness run through him. Orlando was right in front of him, strutting about his office chambers with a look of despair draped over his face.

"The test showed nothing! The boy was in the clear! How did he know about those things? Can the curse transmit thoughts now?!" Orlando wrapped his fingers around the edge of the table.

"I don't know. I don't know brother, but we need to deal with this now. Myr was right. We need to switch methods. Prepare the equipment; we'll start tomorrow." Arno reached for the manuscript in the drawer.

"Have you gone mad?! We're still testing it on the prisoners. It's not ready."

"Not ready?" Arno sprang to his feet.

"An Angel gave it to me! It is ready! We should have started with it!"

"It damages the soul, Arno! Much more than ours! We can't use it on the chil—""The children are eating each other!" Arno slammed his fist into the table, shattering it in half. Orlando stumbled backward as splinters flew all over the room.

"They're dying! We don't have time to study the method! By the time we're done, more than half of them will be dead!" Arno yelled, the veins in his forehead bulging out.

"Be calm, brother." Father Orlando lowered his voice. Arno took a deep breath and looked at the splinter embedded between his fingers, blood trickling down to his palm.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to do that." He plucked out the splinter like nothing, and the wound quickly stitched itself together before his eyes.

"I understand, brother. Perhaps… we should awaken the Archbishop. He will know what to do."

"We have the word of an angel! What use is there waking the Archbishop? Besides, he hasn't woken up since twenty years ago. Do you think he'll wake up now?"

"If the Lady wills it, yes." Father Orlando nodded.

"I forbid it." Arno turned around, facing the open window.

"We must change methods. We will solve this on our own."

"Why? Are you afraid of him discovering our failures?" Arno looked back, his eyes slightly widening.

"No… I am not—""Then you have no reason to forbid it. If he does not wake, then so be it. But we at least try." Father Orlando said.

"It does not seem like I can stop you." Arno shook his head and sighed.

"I will come with you, then, lest the Imperial Ghouls gut you for bothering the Archbishop."

"Thank you. This is a time of great calamity." Father Orlando said. Father Arno followed Father Orlando out of the office and into the nave. It was already nearing midnight, and the holy chamber was all but empty save for a few immortal ghouls sweeping the floors and pews with brooms and brushes. Father Arno looked up at the Death's Statue and felt a tremble in his heart. It was looking far into the distance, beholding something unknowable to a mere mortal like him. The Lady's looks upon evil far beyond me…

but at times I wish she would spare us a glance. They circled around the statue, coming face to face with a large wooden door, gilded in both silver and gold. Father Orlando pushed it open, revealing a long set of velvety stairs that led to the top floor of the Cathedral. At the end awaited the Archbishop's Chambers. The Deathless One, who slumbered on his throne. They ascended the stairs, the doors closing automatically behind them. After a few steps up, Father Orlando looked behind his shoulder and gasped.

"It's gone," Orlando said. Arno knew what he was referring to. The entrance had vanished, replaced with steps upon steps that stretched on for eternity.

"You've been here nearly a decade. You should be used to the Cathedral by now."

"I am. But seeing it so close… it makes me uneasy." Orlando peered up the stairs, catching no sight of the end.

"How long do we have to walk here?"

"Minutes. Can be hours. The end can even appear right now, if it wanted to."

"It… you're referring to the Cathedral?" Orlando raised a brow.

"What else? It is alive, and it sees and hears everything that happens within it. If it so desired, it could trap us here for all eternity. Only those with the Archbishop's Emblem could walk freely."

"It's not alive in the sense that we are, is it? It can't just decide to harm the Clergy on a whim."

"Some say St. Helen herself imparted a portion of her soul into the foundations of this place. It has been here for centuries; it is older than even Archbishop Santos. If it wants to trap us here, there's nothing we can do." Arno said.

"That is frightening."

"There have been cases of clergymen disappearing in the past." Arno blinked, and the end was suddenly in sight, just a few dozen steps away.

"But it seems it understands our purpose here." They hurried to the top and emerged into a long marble hallway, with a high arched ceiling painted a shade of white. Arno paused a step. A pair of knights—each twice as tall as a fully grown man—clad in rusting plate armor, and armed with massive tower shields and spears, stood at the edge of the hall, guarding a large silver door. They stood perfectly still as the two of them approached, as if there was nothing but air and struts hiding beneath their armor.

No eyes shone from the gaps of their helms. A layman could easily mistake them for statues, but they were far from it.

"Let me speak for us, brother." Arno went ahead of Orlando.

"As you wish," Orlando said. Arno walked on and stopped three, perhaps four, meters away from the door. Even so, those spears were just one thrust away from being in his gut.

"We have come to seek the Archbishop's counsel. A great calamity is upon us." The two knights stepped aside, their armors impossibly silent as they gave way. Without saying another word, Arno pushed open the silver door and strode into the Archbishop's chambers. It was fit for a king, with floors gilded in gold, intricately carved marble walls, and long velvet curtains that covered up the high windows.

At the center of it all sat a wide canopy bed made of silver, with pillars adorned with hundreds of tiny jades and diamonds. Plush purple drapes hung from the arched canopy, hiding the Archbishop's figure from all gawking eyes. A look of confusion spread across Orlando's face, but he kept his mouth shut. He's probably thinking, is this how the Archbishop lives? Our chambers are like the squalid homes of squatters in comparison. There is no humility here. This is the remnant of the old faith.

Something that we must never mimic. Yet… the Archbishop's will and spirituality are still beyond us. Arno took a deep breath and spoke, his tone soft as if he were a dog barking at his master.

"Archbishop. We have come seeking your counsel." The room was silent, save for their breaths. Arno glanced at Orlando, and the younger priest simply nodded back at him. With another deep breath, he retold the horrors plaguing the children as if he had long memorized what words to say. When he was done, Arno lowered his head and waited for an answer. Five seconds passed, then ten, and then thirty, and still there was nothing. Will you not answer? What calamity would make you wake up, Master?

Are these children so below you that they are but specks in the dust? Myr helps me. An Angel, something far beyond me, and far beyond you. Why do you stay silent? Orlando whispered, his voice lighter than the wind.

"You were right… he's not going to awaken."

"Wait." Arno replied. I have not seen you in two decades… No one has seen you. Will you remain in slumber for eternity? Arno raised his head and gazed at the drapes as if his eyes could pierce right through. The urge to see, to behold, swelled within him without warning. He stepped forward, and his hand reached for the drapes.

"What are you doing?" Orlando gritted his teeth.

"I must see the truth," Arno said. Orlando's expression froze as if he was looking at a stranger. He looked back at the chamber doors, seeing if the knights had noticed anything. Arno parted the drapes and peered inside. There he lay, Archbishop Santos in all of his emaciated glory, reduced to a mere mummy with pallid skin that clung to his bones, and arms the size of branches. His eyes were shut, and his hands rested upon his stomach.

There was no breath in his chest, nor life in his body, and yet Arno knew he was not dead. Do you hear me, Master? Or do my words fall on deaf ears? Arno's gaze was drawn to an emerald pendant hanging around the Archbishop's neck. It was shaped like an eye, with a long, wide slit in the middle, revealing a tiny ruby inside. The Archbishop's Emblem. Why do you wear it in your sleep? As if you have a use for it. Arno pulled away with a sigh, closing the drapes.

"We should have never come here. Let us leave," Arno said.

"That would be for the best." Orlando gulped and pushed open the chamber doors. They walked out of the room and passed the two knights as if they weren't there. Orlando closed his eyes and likely uttered a silent prayer to himself. When they reached the stairwell, he looked back at the knights for one last time before taking the first step.

"You've seen the Archbishop. We must make arrangements for the testing. We do not have other choices," Arno said.

"Yes… we don't." Orlando gulped.

"We will begin tomorrow. Start with the lesser souls. Do it in batches, and save Evelyn and Alice for the last. Do not test them until we can minimize the damage to their souls," Arno said.

"Should we not test them first? Both of their friends have perished in the succumbings. Out of everyone there, they are the most at risk," Orlando said.

"Those two… they're worth in terms of the soul is immeasurable. We cannot risk damage."