Chương 8: Chapter 7: Welcome to the Church of Death

It was finally time to leave the comforts of her home. Alice rose from her bed and took in her bedchamber one last time. It was nothing much: a simple bed by the window, a few drawers, a wardrobe, her desk, and a now-empty bookshelf. She glanced at the clock, and it was already seven-thirty in the morning. A little later than usual, but it was just the right time today. I guess Mother already packed most of my things while I was asleep. It's time to leave. I can't say I'm not scared, but I'm excited.

I want to know more about what's out there. More about the church. She picked up her brass mirror and admired herself for a bit. Her raven hair neatly framed her face, falling down to her waist in billowy waves. She wore a white buttoned blouse and a blue ankle-length skirt, which stayed surprisingly well-kept even after her slumber. I don't know what possessed me to dress up before sleeping, but at least it didn't backfire. Time to go, I suppose.

She unlocked her chamber door and glanced back at her room, feeling as if she was missing something. And there, she spotted a leather-bound journal on her desk. It was her journal. Goddess, I thought Mother already packed it up. She rushed over and picked up her journal. She felt the slight bulk of her pen lodged in the center. I can't leave without this. How am I going to keep track of what's happening? She hurried out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the dining room.

There wasn't a single plate on the table, not even a pot or pan over the stove. Still, she strangely felt full, as if she'd already eaten breakfast without even knowing it. She went into the living room, where her parents lounged and waited. Jaime sat on the couch, while Cynthia stood by the window, gazing out at the open streets. Two suitcases were stacked on top of each other on the table; all the things she surely needed to live.

"Good morning," Alice said. Jaime nodded without answering, while Cynthia turned around, her lips twitching as they curled into a smile.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Cynthia said.

"Well enough," Alice said. I don't need to tell her about that dream. What am I, seven?

"The Inquisitors are going to pick us up soon. They'll be here any moment now."

"Right." Alice held out her journal.

"You… you forgot to pack this up."

"Ah, sorry about that." Cynthia grabbed the journal and quickly stuffed it inside one of the suitcases alongside her other books.

"I've just been so busy lately."

"It's fine, it's fine," Alice said. She's always working so hard to take care of me. Father too. Whatever he does for work, he does it a lot. To the point where I hardly even see him. Without him we wouldn't be here.

"Your books are in here." Cynthia tapped the suitcase she just opened.

"While your clothes and essentials are in this one." She pointed at the suitcase below.

"The cathedral should provide its own, but you never know." Jaime rose to his feet.

"They are here." Cynthia furrowed her brows and looked out of the window. Alice too stood on her tiptoes and watched. A black carriage pulled over in front of their house. It was a closed cabin, with tinted windows and a silver mask insignia on the door. That's the Inquisitor's carriage. They're here to take me.

"I suppose it's time then." Cynthia drew in a breath of air and grabbed the first suitcase, before reaching for the second.

"I-I can carry that," Alice stammered.

"It's quite heavy, Alice," Cynthia said.

"Let her," Jaime said. Cynthia paused for a second.

"Alright, go on, dear." Alice grabbed the suitcase by the handle. It had quite a heft to it, but she quickly got used to the weight. She held it with one hand.

"See? I'm fine." Cynthia patted Alice's head.

"You've grown. In the past you could barely even lift a bowl without your hands shaking." Alice pouted.

"That did not happen." Jaime opened the front door and gestured for them to follow.

"Okay, dear, let's get going," Cynthia said. Alice followed Cynthia outside. Clear skies hung above them, and a few men had already taken to the streets. As they approached the sidewalk, Alice looked back at her home with a blank stare. Why am I so calm? Is it because of my blood? I'll miss this place… I'll miss Mother, Father… maybe not Stephen. But I'll be right back soon. I just have to enjoy my stay there, and everything will be fine. Alice turned back around and followed Cynthia to the carriage.

The driver was an Inquisitor with a copper mask, with a rifle resting beside his seat. He held the reins to a pair of massive ghouled horses, at least twice as large as a full-grown man.

"Sir Valentine, was it?" the driver said.

"Yes," Jaime replied.

"Get inside. Father Arno is expecting us," the driver said. Jaime opened the cabin door and climbed in. Cynthia followed, and so did Alice, settling beside each other on the velvet seats. Before long, the carriage drove away, heading for the old stone bridge and into the crowded streets of the central district.

"The Cathedral," Jaime said. I wonder… Alice took a deep breath and willed spirituality through her nerves, activating her sight. The world turned black and white, and she leaned slightly and looked out of the windows. First, she spotted a pale domed head towering above the masses of working men. It was tall and gaunt, its skin was pale like snow, and it was naked, with a seared crotch. Near an alleyway, there was a flock of small grimy cretins huddled together like filthy beggar children.

Their eyes were pitch black, and their legs tapered off into stumps. She looked up, and she saw a woman in white standing on the edge of a rooftop. The front half of her head was carved open like a fruit. Wherever she looked, there was a ghost or specter to behold. Some mingled among the living, clad in suits or dresses, but their shambling gaits and their sickly white skin quickly gave them away. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Mother… do the ghosts just wander forever?" Alice said.

"Most of them. Ghosts are godless, tormented souls. When they died, they had no God to welcome them. So they stayed here, bound by whatever will or thought they last had," Cynthia said.

"That's horrible."

"They are more like wild animals than humans. Rarely, you'll find one that can be reasoned with," Cynthia said. The deeper they went into the central district, the more the specters dwindled. By the time the filthy road turned into a wide avenue, all of them had already disappeared. In the distance, she saw a dark silhouette rising above every other building. It was St. Helen Cathedral, the seat of power and faith in Vakundir.

It was made of dark marble, and it was composed of three massive towers connected to a wide-spanning hall the length of a dozen buildings. A beautiful array of colorful glass panes arranged in a circle adorned the middle tower, while the two others rose further up, tapering off into thin metal spires that kissed the high clouds. Panes of colored glass sparkled along the high walls, while flying buttresses arched out beside them, merging with the ornate pillars that rested along the roof deck.

The carriage stopped in front of the arched entry, before an open black-iron gate adorned with the engravings of holy martyrs and saints. By the Lady, that thing is huge. That must have taken ages to build.

"Turn off your sight, dear. The Cathedral is a holy place," Cynthia said.

"Of course." Alice closed her eyes and released the spirituality into the air. When she opened them, the world was back to normal.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Cynthia looked up at the cathedral, admiring it.

"I'm going to live there?" Alice gulped.

"For a while, at least," Cynthia said. Jaime opened the door and climbed out. Cynthia and Alice followed suit.

"Sir Valentine." A man draped in white robes approached them. He lowered his head and bowed, his face hidden behind a thick gray veil.

"You have finally arrived. Father Arno has been expecting you." The faint stench of rotting flesh radiated off his clothes. He smells like a corpse… and I can't even see his face. Is he a ghoul? Do ghouls speak?

"Lead the way, Acolyte," Jaime said. The acolyte turned around, leading them straight through the open gates and into the far-reaching nave. The high-vaulted ceilings seemed like the skies with their deep blue paint, and the large marble pillars that lined the aisles were as wide as four men standing side by side. The morning light poured in from the colored windows, bathing the innumerable figures sitting on the rows of pews in its warm orange gleam.

But all of that paled compared to the gargantuan copper statue of Lady Death. She was seen as a woman of otherworldly beauty, standing proud and tall in her long, flowing robe, with both her arms poised upward, holding a staff in one hand and a book in the other. Her clothes curved and billowed like they were real, and her long hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes shimmered an eerie purple, and her body seemed as soft as real flesh despite its green pallor.

Alice stopped in her tracks and took in the sight for a good few seconds.

"There are so many people here," Alice murmured, her eyes roaming about the figures seated in the pews. Their heads hung low, and their eyes were closed, their hands planted against their chests. Despite their number, they were deathly silent. It was as if it was a hall of the dead. The ceremony was called Dakshen. Every morning, Anastasians prayed for however long they could without breakfast. For most, it was merely thirty minutes.

Some did it in their homes, others in local chapels, but it seemed most preferred to spend their mornings in this temple. Why… why didn't they bring me here before? It's so… beautiful. They led them down the leftmost aisle. Alice furrowed her brows as they trailed behind him. She glanced at the faithful and noticed the ashen and rotten among them, bowing and praying as if they were still alive. Halfway down the aisle, they swerved into a corridor on the right and continued deeper inside.

Alice clenched the suitcase handle by her side as a suffocating feeling rose up in her chest.

"We are here." The acolyte stopped and pulled open a large wooden door.

"Father Arno awaits you." Jaime strode inside, while Cynthia followed, and Alice trailed a step behind. Father Arno sat behind a wide desk, with large piles of papers and scriptures strewn about. Towering shelves filled with books lined the walls, and a large cabinet stood behind him. That's him, that priest. He looks… like a normal person.

"Sir Valentine. It is good to see you." Arno cast a calm smile, his gaze falling on Alice.

"You must be Alice. Sit down, child. No harm will come to you here." Alice sat down in front of the wide desk. Her parents stood by her side, and that strange acolyte remained by the still-open chamber door. He's not going to close the door?

"Might I ask if you've already taught her how to control her ability?" Arno said.

"We have. She has almost complete control of her sight, and I've taught her the basics of spiritual control," Jaime said.

"That is good, and rather surprising to hear she learned so quickly." Cynthia smiled.

"She is a fast learner, Father."

"Indeed so." Arno leaned forward, looking straight into Alice's eyes.

"Child, speak to me. Do you understand why you're here?" He's the one that came to us. Why is he asking that?

"Yes. I awakened, and it's safer for me to live in the Cathedral," Alice replied.

"I want you to understand you're not being held here like a prisoner. You will be given a room, food, clothes, and even education. We will make your stay here as comfortable as possible."

"How long will I stay here?" Alice said.

"Until we've dealt with the matter as a whole. How long that would take? I cannot be certain. In the meantime, you cannot leave the cathedral grounds. Nor can you receive any visitations, at least until we ascertain the truth of your current state."

"I… I understand," Alice gulped. Alice glanced back at Jaime. The man who was her father was silent, watching with dead eyes like some bystander.

"Do not be afraid, Alice. The Lord protects us." Arno rose to his feet.

"Follow me. We need to bind your soul before you settle in." Alice's eyes widened.

"Bind my soul?" What does he mean by that? A soft laugh escaped Arno's lips.

"I apologize. We need a portion of your spirituality, so that the cathedral defenses will recognize you as one of us." Alice let out a sigh of relief.

"I see."

"I assume this is temporary," Jaime frowned. Arno quickly nodded.

"The binding is temporary, and she will hold no such oaths."

"Then it would not be a problem if we were to watch her binding?" Jaime raised his brows.

"Of course not." Arno took a deep breath.

"The Initiation chamber is right beside my office. Come with me." Is he… afraid of Father? Alice clutched Cynthia's hand as they followed after Arno.

"Don't worry, dear. Everything's going to be alright," Cynthia cooed. They stepped into a circular chamber, surrounded by thick steel walls. A marble platform sat in the center, supporting a large man-shaped palm. It was a far cry from the ornate and luxurious nave. It almost seemed brutish in comparison.

"Place your hand over the palm and inject it with spirituality," Arno said. Alice pressed her hand into the massive palm and willed her spirituality through her nerves and then through her skin.

"Repeat after me, child. I pray to the Goddess of Death, Matriarch of Dreams and Weaver of Tragedies. Our Lady, Anastasia."

"I pray to the Goddess of Death, Matriarch of Dreams and Weaver of Tragedies. Our Lady, Anastasia," Alice said, as though she were reading from a script.

"She will shield me from all evils. Provide unto me the bounty of the earth until my inevitable end." Alice continued.

"She will shield me from all evils. Provide unto me the bounty of the earth until my inevitable end."

"All those who seek malice and harm unto me shall be struck down in a merciless torrent of her might."

"All those who seek malice and harm unto me shall be struck down in a merciless torrent of her might."

"I pray, Lady Death. Deliver me from life."

"I pray, Lady Death. Deliver me from life." A faint ringing noise came from beneath the platform, and a bright white light suddenly enveloped the black palm. Alice stepped back, her eyes widening in both shock and amazement.

"It is done. Welcome to the Church, my child." Arno's voice echoed inside her head.