Chương 46: Chapter 45: The Cathedral's Western Wing

Arno imprisoned the dangerous children in the western wing, in windowless chambers barred by chained steel doors. On the first day, they suffered listless delirium, only ever replying in murmurs and groans. His brother, Orlando despised it. He said it was as if they were criminals. But it was the best option. On the second day, the children regained partial sanity, but remembered nothing of the test nor the day before. Despite their initial fright and confusion, they came to terms with their situation.

Something Father Arno hadn't expected for another few days. It was now the third day, and Father Arno and Father Orlando's third visit to the children. It was early morning as they crossed the desolate nave, heading for the western wing.

"How are the rest of the children faring?" Arno said.

"They've returned to normal, and they don't remember anything," Orlando replied.

"And what about the other two?"

"Alice and Evelyn? The effects on their minds were minimal. I hardly noticed a difference. But it looks like it's the same case for them—they don't remember the test."

"That's a relief to hear." Arno tucked his hands inside his pockets. Then, he sighed.

"Lord Bishop Blair wants to meet them. They have to be ready and in top shape."

"The Lord Bishop?" Orlando's eyes widened.

"Does she not have enough kin?" He snarled.

"The Lord Bishop is an eccentric creature. Who knows what she wants. But if she wants to embrace them into her fold, there is nothing we can do."

"They're just children. Surely she wouldn't take them in."

"The Hunters have trained children in the past. It wouldn't be the first time they took from the Church."

"Goddess help us…" They approached the gated entrance to the western wing. A pair of ghouls stood on each side, clad in chain mail and armed with bucklers and short, stubbed maces. The ghouls pushed the doors open and lowered their heads in obedience. There were no windows, and the walls were completely bare. It wasn't always like this; in fact, it was a bustling sick house just a few decades ago, filled with doctors, healers, and nurses—the best of the best the city had to offer.

Then a deathly plague struck the city, and the patients they took in slowly went insane. Tragedy after tragedy came, ending in a fiery blaze that nearly consumed the entire Cathedral. The rest of the western wing was eventually sealed off; only a small portion remains accessible today. Arno stopped by the first steel door and produced a large master key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, spotting the blond boy sitting by the desk, his back facing them.

He was hunched over, munching and chewing on something.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal, March." Orlando chuckled. Arno looked at his watch. It was six in the morning.

"The ghouls bring breakfast at seven. It's only six." Orlando furrowed his brows.

"March. What are you eating?" The boy didn't turn, and continued biting and chewing as if they weren't even there. Arno felt an awful feeling in his stomach as he went around and approached him.

"March?" The boy was gnawing at his fingers, stripping away the skin, then chewing at the flesh like it was some sort of exotic delicacy. Arno snatched his arms away and saw shattered bones jutting out of his bloodied fingertips.

"What in Gods' name…" Orlando went pale and stepped back. The boy tilted his head and opened his blood-caked mouth halfway. Strings of flesh dangled from his lips, and the whites of his eyes had gone completely red. He let out a low croak.

"Hung… Hungry…" A bolt of realization ran down Arno's spine.

"Orlando! Stay with him!" He ran into the hall and fumbled with the key as he unlocked the next chamber. He barged inside and was met by the listless gaze of a young girl sitting on the side of her bed.

"Thank goodness…" Arno sighed in relief. But the girl stared on, her eyes unblinking. Arno frowned and hurried over to her side.

"Lauren? Can you hear me?" The girl tilted her head, but her expression was frozen stiff. Why? She was already fine yesterday. What's going on? This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Arno tapped her shoulder.

"Lauren." The girl's eyes widened, and her face morphed into fear and confusion.

"Fa… Father?" She looked around the room, then her gaze fell back on Arno.

"What's… going on?"

"Do you remember anything last night?"

"After I ate, I just fell asleep." The girl shook her head.

"And after that?"

"Nothing. Did something happen?" The girl gulped in fear.

"No, nothing happened. Just stay here for a bit, all right? Father Orlando will be with you later." Arno stepped back. The girl slowly nodded and looked at her empty palms.

"Okay…" Arno walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and returned to Father Orlando. The young boy was now sitting on his bed, gazing at the empty brick wall as though it held all the secrets in the world. Father Orlando sat beside him, wearing a worried look on his face.

"How's Lauren?"

"Unharmed, but she was nearly catatonic when I got there. She's back to normal now, but I don't know what happened."

"Thank the Goddess…" Orlando rubbed his eyes.

"I've already called for a Healer. He's out of it—won't even speak to me." Arno crouched in front of the boy, waving his hand in front of the boy's eyes. The boy peered right past him, not even registering his existence.

"Is this because of the testing?" Orlando said.

"It shouldn't be. They've already recovered from the side effects. These are symptoms of succumbing. The isolation must have triggered something in their souls." He looked at the boy's gnawed fingers.

"Another symptom is high metabolism. There was nothing to eat, so he began chewing on his fingers. A few more hours, and Lauren would have been doing the same. We'll have to increase their meals, make it five instead of three."

"I'll tell the cooks." Orlando sighed and looked down.

"What are we supposed to do, brother? There aren't any records of this. No one has ever tried anything like this."

"There is one. Back in the capital, there were experiments run on the mentally ill. They removed parts of the brain that dealt with emotion and stress."

"A lobotomy? You want to lobotomize them?"

"If we have no other choice."

"By the Lady." Orlando drew in a cold breath and shook his head.

"You frighten me, brother."

"I must head out. Can you stay with them? I will send others to help." Arno stood up.

"Of course, of course."

"Thank you." Arno walked out of the chambers and hurriedly left the western wing. Afraid? Why would he be afraid? I was only giving a suggestion. Arno went to the second floor and retreated into the safety of his chambers. He grabbed six incense candles from the cabinet and a stick of red chalk. Then he drew out a complex array of interweaving circles and triangles on the ground, encasing it all in one large hexagram. He placed one candle on each point and went down on his knees, placing his palm upon his chest.

He closed his eyes and prayed.

"Oh Goddess, send to me your gracious aid. The shepherd of the lost, and the Guardian of the Ill. His heavenly name, Myr." He heard the candles spark to life one by one, yet at the same time an unnatural cold swept into the room. Arno opened his eyes and raised his head, gazing upon Myr's massive figure sitting on the windowsill.

"You have called, my child. I can already see you've found great success with my methods." Myr's voice echoed into his head.

"We discovered two that were about to succumb. I apologize for not using your technique sooner. My brother wanted to be certain that it was safe for the children."

"We shall see if your augmentations will prove to be a wise decision."

"I regret that I could not have saved the others. Too many have died because of my weakness." Myr laid his palm upon Arno's crown, grasping his head like he was but a child.

"Do not look upon the past, but the future. You have committed many mistakes, but there is still time to right your wrongs." Arno took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his nerves dissipate.

"Yes, my Lord."

"You wish to seek my guidance on the two children. Yes?" Myr retracted his palms.

"Lauren and March, my Lord. We do not know how to heal them."

"To heal the body is a simple thing. To heal the mind is a heavy endeavor. But to completely heal the soul… it is impossible. As much as you would try, a soul can never return to its original state."

"Then what must I do?"

"There exists an antidote for many ills of the mind. It stabilizes the soul and shows visions of the past to make men remember. It is no cure for Succumbing, but it may yet prove useful in preventing it."

"Such an antidote… it must have many side effects."

"It will leave its mark, as all do. But what it gives is beyond what it takes. A portion of the soul and fragments of memories in exchange for sanity."

"What is this antidote called, my Lord?"

"It has had many names in the past, but you may call it Remembrance. Do not hesitate any longer, my child. You must feed this balm to the weary the moment you can." Arno gritted his teeth and lowered his head.

"I have learned my lesson… I will do as you say."

"Good. It is the only way to save them. Now farewell, my child. May we meet again." Arno closed his eyes and placed his palm against his chest.

"Thank you…" When he opened his eyes, Myr was nowhere to be found. A parchment lay in the center of the unlit candles, with a list of instructions and ingredients written in wet black ink. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and murmured to himself what he read.

"Fifty milligrams of Watcher Blood, twenty milligrams of liquid sage, half an ounce of a Leper Wolf's horn. Mix together until the liquid turns brown, then infuse with spirituality. Expose it to the moon until it becomes pale and odorless…" He sprang to his feet and snatched the parchment. I must make this tonight.