Chương 90: CHAPTER 88 - Elise

The sea breeze, turned icy by the unexpectedly harsh winter, shook the dark wooden mechanical carriage. The artificial metal muscles and the pipes pulsing with red fuel ignored the gust as the group of travellers began covering themselves against the cold. The rain cover was shaken, holding firm while the driver lengthened and shortened the mechanical bridles of the artificial horse.

"How cool!" Lance smiled, leaning out to watch that iron beast snort steaming vapour from beneath its greenish plates. Maverick leaned over him, affectionately patting its head.

"Never been on one of these little beauties?" The Engineer smiled, pointing out the powerful golden motor beneath the bridle. It trembled, pulsing like a heart, while the constant vibration of pistons and gears could be felt. Lance shook his head, smiling. He adjusted the scarf around his neck, scratched his head, and went back inside.

"Of course I'd seen them before, but never ridden on one! It's so relaxing." Maverick nodded, adjusting his fur-lined hat over his ears. His white uniform was covered by a greyish, dirty fur, almost like a walking blanket of snow. Lance, on the other hand, wore a long brown wool coat with a belt knotted tightly at the waist.

"You're right! Look how comfortable she is!" Maverick pointed at the girl cocooned at the back of the carriage, gently cradled by the vibrations and with only her face visible.

"Is it because of all the springs and mechanics under the wood?" Maverick nodded, tapping the floor with the tip of his foot.

"Any ground irregularity isn't felt inside the carriage. It's all cushioned." Lance nodded, stretching out in his seat. Even the armchairs were terribly comfortable, upholstered in reddish leather and diabolically soft and plush. The carriage was several metres long but still spacious. The cover was tied firmly to the dark wooden walls with rope, while several small circular windows allowed a view of the people passing outside.

"If it weren't for Machinamentum, we would already have most of the work done." Maliard snorted, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. On his head a purple cap, matched with a wool jacket with black buttons of the same colour.

"Come on! It only took us an hour to reach the capital, and we even enjoyed the view. And these two are having fun!" Maverick smiled, throwing an arm around Lance and pulling him close. The boy smiled, doing the same.

"It only took an hour because Round was kind enough to book us one… I'll give you that they deserve it." Maliard put on a pair of heavy dark devices over his ears, connecting them to a cassette hidden inside his clothes.

"You all can talk. I'll focus on listening to all the useful dossiers on the current operation… For the third time." He turned to look out the window while Maverick muttered something about "that prototype" before turning his gaze outside as well.

"HEY! Lance, look!" Maverick grabbed the boy and pressed his head against the glass, opening his eyes to the view of the capital. Far away, beyond the great white bridge, the Fifth Sector could be glimpsed in all its hyper-modern splendour. Closer to the horizon, the complex and articulated noble palaces and the great luminous towers of the lagoon. A flock of birds gracefully crossed the streets of the gigantic capital wrapped in rain, adorning the protagonist of their visit.

"The Great Cathedral of Heloise, the saint of the golden kingdom." Lance turned toward Maverick, watching him point at the tallest of the three towers. Even from that distance, it towered over the city like a mass of golden splendour. It was long and sharp in all its forms, with an almost pyramidal façade. At the centre of the entire structure rose the great tower, spacious and designed to house the immense bell of gold and jewels.

"A symbol of peace between nations…" Maverick's tone turned strangely severe as he spoke. He pulled away from the glass, staring at Lance in silence. The boy nodded, sitting back properly in his seat.

"I'm listening. Winoc already told me about Termìe before…" Maverick gave a nod, followed by a light pat on his shoulder and a benevolent smile.

"The cathedral was built after the bombings, together with the andimican embassy in the territory of Saint Lumiere. It took only four days, without even using materials. Just a single relic of the Empire." Lance looked around, stunned, immediately eyeing Maverick as if he were talking to a madman. It took a few minutes before Maverick noticed the coachman.

"Ah, you mean him? Don't worry, he's deaf. I flicked a pebble at his feet with my ability, and he didn't even notice. It even made a nice bang!" He smiled, raising a thumb while Lance sighed.

"As I was saying, the cathedral was built by an unknown relic. Probably the same one that belonged to that saint." Lance took another look at the cathedral, in its powerless silence.

"Why wasn't Heloise present at its construction?" Maverick turned with him, smiling at the sight.

"She died during the war. Whoever killed her has disappeared. Yet I truly find it hard to imagine anyone could kill her…" Maverick glanced at Maliard for a second, then moved closer to Lance.

"Heloise was probably the strongest Meta in the entire war. If it hadn't been for the help of another Jury member, even Bluette would have died at her hands. I imagine that if they were still alive, she and Kaiser might be the only hope to kill that nameless horror." Lance rested his head on his hand, pondering the new information in silence.

"But how could she be considered a saint? Winoc explained to me the horrific practices of the Empire during the war." Maverick grew stern, his face frowning as if to ensure the safety of the young man's words.

"Simple, Lance. Termìe conducted human experiments and indoctrinated anyone who could wield a relic, turning them into puppets ready to dispense death. They massacred everything on the battlefield, using carts powered by Taumite and other materials from their continent to crush and reduce our soldiers to a dense reddish mist... Though that's the happiest fate." A smile appeared on Maverick's face as he grabbed a drink from under the small compartment of his seat.

"Every time we rescued prisoners… Many vomited. Even I, the first time I saw their bodies. In the end, frankly, I was happy. Better dead than living with those marks. No woman ever survived. Those who returned killed themselves by cutting out their tongues or blowing their heads off. All of their abdomens were branded with fire, numbers and words." Lance swallowed, clutching the fabric over his knees and squeezing it. Winoc's story had been stamped into his head, in the same tone in which it had been told.

"The hatred poured into Termìe will never be erased, not even by the strength of a century, but hatred feeds itself. Impurity filters more impurity until the whole world is corrupted. Peace is only a beautiful illusion, Lance… The world suffers every instant, night and day, and its scars have never closed." Maverick lit a cigarette, forcing the window slightly open to let the smoke drift away.

"Is it really so stupid to dream of a world at peace?" Maverick let out a puff of greyish smoke from his mouth, smiling.

"Absolutely not. The word utopia was born to describe those futures so beautiful they seem unattainable. Mr Noir was just like you, Lance. He dreamed of a world where anyone could be accepted. I truly respected the old man." Lance took another look at the cathedral, now ever closer.

"What kind of woman was Heloise?" Maverick smiled, stubbing out the cigarette on a double handkerchief just pulled from his pocket. He crushed it into the fabric and returned it to his trouser pocket.

"Oh… Do you want to know if she was beautiful? Should I perhaps tell Monica and Jeanne? Well, maybe she would be happy to hear your preferences. Do you like Northern blondes?! I'm sorry, but I don't have any photos at hand. Are you good with imagination?" Lance, red and fuming, struck him on the shoulder, making him lean back in his chair. The engineer laughed, stopping his fist.

"I see, calm down! A little stupidity is good sometimes, and Lautre would agree… In any case, Heloise was a truly beautiful woman, or so Bluette described her. Very long, light blonde hair, blue wings on her back with thick plumage, a slender and very tall body for a woman, eyes of a blue identical to the ocean, and a blue pupil in her left eye. She wore silver armour covered in golden inscriptions and a long red cape."

Lance managed to picture her, but it immediately took an unexpected turn when he realised she was far too perfect.

"I imagine she didn't speak much, since you only described her physical appearance." The boy smiled while Maverick gave him a quick wave, as if agreeing.

"Bluette told me she only spoke in grand sentences like 'I will purify this land without a Goddess' or 'Face me, let yourself be embraced by the messenger of Heaven'… However, the old Commander said that not even one of those words was spoken with spite or anger; on the contrary, they were full of compassion and sweetness." Lance nodded, completely dismissing any hypothesis that had formed in his head.

"Honestly, I hated Termìe during the war, but never as much as my own comrades. I truly believe the war killed me, even though I'm still breathing." Maverick sighed, showing the deep scar on his arm, the colour of rust.

"I imagine you know how much I hate Malcolm Van Jir. He was my captain during the war… A disgusting dog who turned my life into a desperate search to plant a bullet in his head. I hate him so much that I'd want to see him die even if I weren't the one to kill him… Just being part of his death is enough." Lance grabbed him by the shoulder, smiling.

"Maverick, I don't know your pain or your story, and I don't want to force you to talk about it, but I'll be more than happy to help you dig that monster's grave." Maverick laughed, placing his palm over Lance's hand.

"Since when have you become so determined? You should dream, Lance, not have a nemesis. Leave that to the dead like me." Lance sighed, frowning.

"Unfortunately, that man is on the level of a Jury member, and even a Meta of Dirac's calibre couldn't kill him despite being weakened by all my strategies." He snorted, almost disappointed, tapping his forehead with the back of his thumb.

"Why isn't he considered a Jury member?" Lance asked, while watching Maliard, completely absorbed in his constant repetition. The carriage was getting closer and closer, and soon they would enter the cathedral's boulevard.

"You see, Lance… The classification for becoming a member is quite complicated and isn't always based on danger level. For example, take Grayson Dirac and his version when he was the Architect. Certainly, the latter is stronger, but it lacks growth potential and reasoning, while the former can evolve at disgustingly high speeds. With care and time, Grayson can become one of the strongest Metas of this era." He explained, pointing his finger in the air.

"Malcolm would be more than capable of killing him and, in the process, wiping out Bayork. However, he is slowly reaching his limit, and that's why he and Changeant are searching for the ingredient for their ritual. His madness makes him predictable. A Jury member must represent a threat to the entire known world, and Malclom cannot do that in the immediate term. Lucas has far more destructive potential, even though that man could genuinely wound him."

Faced with that explanation, Lance's heart led him to lean closer to the engineer, trying to extract more.

"The Unnamed was ranked that way because it was like a sentient calamity, right?" Maverick gave a quick nod.

"Then what led other Metas to be classified as seat members?" The boy asked, while the rain stopped battering the carriage and shadows fell silently on the glass.

"Bluette and Kaiser were classified that way for their speed of evolution. Heloise for dozens of factors, including charisma and the strength with which she could motivate her army. Lucas for intellect and destructive capacity. However, one can become a seat member without necessarily being a Meta … A human being with a relic and unshakable determination is almost as dangerous as a god." Lance nodded, touching the bracelet hidden beneath his clothes.

"Two Metas in particular stuck with me during the war… Wibke Breunor, the Black Knight, and Christine Tenebreuse." Those names were completely new to Lance, unable to recall a single detail.

"Wibke was a soldier of Northest and the bodyguard of the woman who would later be the queen of Northest, Morgan. A woman certainly very beautiful, with almost purple hair and pitch-black eyes. A single slash from her tore through an entire mountain range in the areas of the capital where Arden now stands. It was she who gave Bluette a 'hand' against Heloise. Christine, on the other hand, was one of the saints of Termìe but somehow dark and dull in her convictions. Both have disappeared, especially the latter."

Maverick closed that topic with a sigh, trying to hold back further information in his throat.

"So not all Jury members have been subjugated." The light returned to shine on the carriage, and finally the sun filtered through the cold, dark clouds. Maverick gave a wave, crossing his legs.

"Only two… The rest are unknown, and it's troubling to think that beings of that kind still populate the world, crawling in the shadows looking for a way to impose themselves." They exchanged a glance, silent. The carriage accelerated rapidly, overtaking cars and trams ahead of it, controlling the jolts over the incline. A memory surfaced as Lance felt the carriage slowing down on the road.

"Honestly, I'd be grateful if you investigated the cathedral without telling anyone. That place was built over an important archaeological site, and I've found numerous correspondences with the description of Medeas in Nikola's diaries." Lucas set the steaming cup of dark coffee on the small table. The gentle lurch of forces faintly cracked the liquid, leaving an amber ring.

"It'll be done, Lucas. I await your solution for Jeanne." Lance smiled, moving toward the stairs when a click stopped him. He turned, once again observing Lucas's face, covered by the black blindfold. He was smiling, clearing his throat with a cough.

"There's something I want to tell you…" The scientist smiled, slowly approaching him. He stretched out his long arms and wrapped them around his shoulders.

"Don't overdo it. If there's one thing that scares me about you, it's your potential. You could be what August failed to become." Lance gave Lucas a pat on the back and hurried up the stairs.

"Could I ever become like August? Could I ever kill a deity with my own strength?" At that moment, a loud yawn brought him back to the cold air of the carriage. Jeanne raised her head from beyond the blanket, with faint dark circles and a pale face. Her hair was all dishevelled, and a strange film at the corners of her lips.

"Good morning, Jeanne. Sleep well?" Maverick smiled, helping her sit on one of the remaining armchairs. Maliard noticed her, smiling and discreetly removing his device. She tried to greet him, only managing to yawn again, covering her face properly with her hand. She reached out toward Lance, tugging at his sleeve. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"Right! I should have some here." He quickly slipped his hand into his jacket, revealing a dark, opaque metal flask with a slightly tapered, rectangular shape. The girl immediately brought it to her lips, drinking generously. Maliard watched them curiously while Jeanne handed the flask back to Lance, wiping herself with a handkerchief.

"It's Jeanne's coffee, although the percentage of coffee is a little unbalanced…" The boy smiled, putting it back inside his coat. Maliard nodded, frowning.

"This composition certainly isn't what I expected…" He murmured, looking at Maverick and Lance, then casting a glance at the girl sprawled on the armchair, almost limp from relaxation.

"Monica is busy with an investigation on the coast with Lucas. Edvard and Lautre have the day off and will spend it drinking in Arden. Noel and Hoku are handling a minor singularity in Sector II. We're the only ones who can carry this investigation forward, and I want to remind you that I only joined to monitor the new capabilities of Lachesi and the equipment." Maverick smiled, giving the boy a quick elbow to the side.

Lance nodded, resting a finger on the arm where his relic rested, and after a quick inspection, a small black lump formed. From that mass emerged a greyish hilt, immediately seized by the boy.

"That's the new Milites model! The name is Pirgopolinìce! It's an old drama recovered in the depths of Sector II and still highly appreciated in the theatres." Lance stared at him, confused, pulling the blade out completely. It was extraordinarily light, double-edged, with a mechanism positioned halfway along the unsharpened side, connected to a small sphere motor located in the guard.

"I'll always call it Gloriousus." Lance smiled, immediately drawing disappointment on the face of its creator. He quickly sheathed the weapon under Maliard's astonished gaze.

"So Lachesi can be used as a storage system?" Maverick shook his head, raising both arms.

"We don't know how the phenomenon works, nor why certain objects are assimilated and others not. For now, only Supplicium, the clothes, and Pirgon — I mean Gloriousus, are assimilated inside, along with any derivatives. It's worth noting that they are noticeably more reactive and resilient, and I have no idea why. Frankly, not even Lucas fully understands! The f requency inside them shares, to a lesser extent, the properties of Lachesi."

Maliard snorted, massaging his forehead with his index finger and thumb, when he noticed Jeanne fiddling with two strange white and silver tubes hidden beneath the blanket. She noticed, looking carefully at Maverick, who smiled with a nod.

"These are devices for storing sweat, sebum, and blood, and using them to help my ability… They're called Kwasten." Maverick raised a satisfied thumb, and the girl timidly did the same.

"Well, I'd say we can be at ease with you here, Maverick. In any case, I'd like to go over the operation details again." All three nodded, with Lance giving one last look at the now imposing cathedral.

"The cathedral seems to be at the centre of a notably altered flow of Frequency. Lucas asked us to handle the situation as best we can and to recover any relic left unguarded inside." Maliard specified, pointing his nail at the small sheet hidden beneath his jacket.

"In simple terms, we have to desecrate a sacred place? Exciting." Maverick smiled, snapping his fingers in front of his smiling, ecstatic face.

"You… Will provide support from outside after the initial reconnaissance. Honestly, the best fighters we have in a confined space are Jeanne and Lance." Maverick nodded, snorting with disappointment etched on his face. Maliard turned toward the two young people, busy pointing out every possible glimpse of the Fifth Boulevard to each other. After a single, sharp cough, both turned around composed, with their backs straight against the seat. Maliard nodded, satisfied.

"Don't split up and don't stray too far from each other. Frankly, I don't trust the cathedral's clergy. There are far too many accusations of kidnappings and strange disappearances in the capital." Both nodded, staring attentively at the man in the green jacket. Suddenly the carriage stopped, and the coachman knocked a couple of times on the wood. Everyone quickly got out, each leaving a tip for the blind man.

He smiled with his cracked, yellowish teeth, nodding his head and quickly moving off with his mechanical gallop. The sky was dark, but the gloomy weather had vanished. Lance looked around, surprised at the sight of the white palaces with golden streaks. Dozens of kiosks, some on wheels, some fixed, emitted an inviting, fragrant aroma. People came and went across the small square paved in a herringbone pattern.

"Beautiful, isn't it? This neighbourhood imitates Termìe's architecture a lot, but many of the elderly don't hold it dear." Maverick smiled, hanging onto Lance's shoulders from behind. Maliard turned toward them, gesturing with his head. Jeanne was the first to see the gigantic structure behind them: the marble walls, veined with gold, were all decorated with winged statues of both sexes, wrapped in white robes.

Irregular fragments jutted from the walls, merging on the surface into an intricate web, reaching even the columns at the end and the upper dome. Pointed roofs crowned the sides, serving as the foundation for the upward surge.

"Let's get moving. There'll be time to explore the area later." Maliard smiled, buttoning his clothes and quickly taking the lead. Jeanne, Maverick, and Lance followed at a brisk pace. With every metre, the cathedral seemed to grow enormously, almost staining the sky with its presence. After a few minutes, they arrived at the front door.

"Was this thing really built in a couple of days?" Lance gazed in awe, observing the gigantic black wooden door towering tens of metres above him. Every splinter of that slab was decorated with engravings, symbols, and small effigies depicting winged beings. The two spiral columns at the sides rose sharply, with various pikes crossed beside them to form a cross. The surface was so polished it seemed to emanate its own light. Everyone walked far from it, awed by its size.

Looking up, a slab of white marble now covered them like a veil, descending dangerously like liquid above them.

"The cathedral is just a symbol. It opens only for the Manna period and New Year. Fortunately, we have fake permits." Maliard approached the door, pausing for a moment on Jeanne, who kept looking around, above and below. He smiled, knocking loudly on the great door using the golden knocker.

"It's a miracle no one steals from it." Maverick smiled, inspecting all the small golden details set into the wood.

"They don't resell. People think this place is somewhat 'cursed.'" Maliard replied, giving one last violent knock on the portal. He stepped back for a moment, waiting for an answer. A rapid echo of footsteps was heard beyond the wood, when suddenly a small slit opened beneath the knocker.

"The cathedral is closed until further notice." A sweet, thin voice emerged from behind the wood. From the sound, she must have been very young, almost unexpected for a member of the clergy. Maliard snorted, pulling out an envelope of yellowish papers.

"We have a government permit… We've come to investigate the structural defects." The papers slid into the mouth of the wood, immediately eliciting a gasp of amazement from the woman, who at once lowered the lever that anchored the door to the ground. It opened with a mechanical clatter, swinging wide and releasing a golden light. Lance's jaw dropped before the massive web of liquid-like marble.

Along the entire nave, spiral columns that at the top of their bud divided almost like claws, mixing and merging with the recesses supporting the colossal multicoloured windows. At the centre, where a dome rose, a black and white painting of a woman with her face veiled by her own sinuous blonde hair. Lowering his gaze, he noticed the intricate golden lines engraved in the white marble.

Finally, ahead, the altar: a colossal sculptural complex depicting a woman with hair down to her ankles, wrapped in a robe drenched in blood gushing from her own chest, pierced by a horned pike. At her feet, dozens of candles shaped as skeletal hands clung to her, but she raised her chin to the sky, gazing at a golden sun wrapped in white wings.

"Incredible…" Even Maliard, serious and reserved, couldn't hold back his amazement at the sight imprinted in his eyes. The woman appeared, slamming the great door shut and startling everyone present.

"Truly a spectacle, isn't it, sir?" She extended her hand to Maliard, revealing it from beyond the long white tunic that covered her body loosely. Over her small forehead, a veil fell to her shoulders, held by a golden band. Her chestnut braid fell over her shoulder, reaching just past her chest. Her eyes were a light blue, inviting and delicate. Her features were evidently young, just matured: thin rosy lips, a pointed nose, thick lashes, and an innocent smile.

Maliard and Maverick looked at her with a smile, offering a nod.

"I am Agnes, the youngest of the four sisters who manage the cathedral. Thank you for being here." With an elegant bow, she introduced herself to the group, pausing for a few seconds on Jeanne, smiling even more.

"Hello, we are the inspectors Matriard Veimer, Lamb Klivmt, and Mavre Routck, and she is our director, Sianne Lim." Everyone nodded at Maliard's words, bowing quickly. The sister clapped her hands, clearing the path to the altar. Wherever Lance cast his gaze, he couldn't help but be magnetized toward all the grandeur until he noticed, among all the statues of saints, a missing spot.

"What was there?" He asked Agnes gently. The sister turned quickly, casting a glance at the empty pedestal. Her face dimmed for a moment, then she looked at Lance with the same joyful expression.

"A statue of the Goddess that we're having restored. A real shame you can't see it." Lance nodded, remaining still, staring at that vacant spot as if it were calling him. The constant footsteps of his companions roused him, forcing him to follow.

"Father Abbondius is travelling. For the moment, we will guide you through the cathedral." A pair of women emerged from the left nave, both wearing the same attire as Agnes. The first was taller, with a squarer, more mature face. Her short black hair rested on the nape of her neck. She wore a long chain of silver spikes. The second was younger, with long reddish hair down to her chest, an oval, delicate face, and greyish eyes.

"This is Servy, and the other with red hair is Lucia." Agnes introduced them both, and they responded with a quick bow. After a rapid exchange of names, the group passed the altar and headed into the nave. The circular, engraved walls were spacious, with numerous doors on each side.

"These are all access points to the warehouse and the underground area; unfortunately, we'll have to wait for the Father to see it." Lucia smiled, carefully adjusting her veil behind her head.

"Good thing you are around then! I wouldn't want to disturb him… Who knows what legal wizard he'd throw at me." Agnes laughed. Maliard stared at Maverick, biting his lip, and the two younger ones looked at each other, murmuring an answer.

"A vulgar way of saying, lawyer…" Maliard whispered, moving closer to the two for a moment. Both raised a thumb, looking around. On the walls, dozens of paintings depicting the war, numerous iconographies of Heloise and another woman with long black hair and violet eyes, rendered with glass beads in the paint.

"Here we should split up to cover as much surface area as possible while we wait." They nodded, each taking one of the three possible paths. Lance and Jeanne went with Lucia, Maliard with Servy, and Maverick with Agnes. They all said their goodbyes, turning their backs and letting their footsteps echo. After a few minutes of silent walking, Lance felt a tingling in his back.

"Something here is disturbing my Frequency…" He put on the glasses, carefully stored inside his coat. In a single instant, nausea took control of his body, while he heard screams and the energy in the air shatter and reassemble dozens of times per second. Without making a sound, he leaned against a dark door, battered and with a strange blackish film on the knob.

"Jeanne…" He tried to call her, noticing that his voice seemed no longer audible. He tried again, but this time he felt his body slide to the side. He began to fall, surrounded by darkness.

"What?" He noticed the door had opened, sending him tumbling into a whirl of pitch-black sand. After an interminable second, a dead, dull light blinded him. He immediately recognised the place: the filamentous grey clouds, the amniotic smell, and the disgusting sensation of calamity.

"This is Hel…" Wherever he turned as he fell, he could see nothing beyond the towering mountains on the horizon. His body felt light, almost empty by now. A wail, a mournful cry echoed through the entire dimension, forcing Lance to close his eyes. Once his body's instincts calmed, he saw her, impaled upon the mountains: a gigantic female silhouette, large enough to cover the horizon, pierced through by a horned pike. Her horizontal body was barely supported by that weapon, from which black cascades poured.

Her body was naked, yet more than skin and flesh it seemed rock and slime.

"The woman on the altar…" He murmured those words when her head turned unnaturally toward him, protruding a swarm of disgusting tentacled appendages. Lance activated Lachesi, almost by instinct, but a flash of darkness ended up permanently stealing his sight. The crying, however, still echoed in his ears. He woke completely drenched in sweat, drool at his mouth, and with Lachesi still sewn to his arm, ready to strike.

Lance looked around, desperate to notice that the entire corridor was different from the one he had fallen into. He immediately withdrew the relic, feeling himself for injuries.

"If a portal were to open here…" The mere thought made him frantically press his watch, but he was unable to receive or transmit a single message. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and immediately started down the long corridor, spotting a fork at the end.

"I'll warn the others. We're still in time if I'm the only one who noticed." He quickened his pace, twisting the corner. His forehead slammed into something soft and fragrant, almost like a cushion wrapped in a black veil.

"What?! A nice perfume?" He fell to the ground, directly onto his buttocks, glimpsing a tall mass above him.

"I'm so sorry!" When his sight returned, he saw the person he had collided with: a beautiful lady, taller than him by about ten centimetres, with very long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Lance's eyes expanded at the sight of the blue pupil in her right eye. She was wrapped in a dark dress, tight at the hips, with a deep slit revealing dark stockings. She wore no veil, only a red tiara like her lips.

"Heloise?" Lance murmured, staring at her, almost hypnotised. The woman quickly retreated, passing him and hiding behind the column at the same corner Lance had turned.

"N-No… My name is Elise. I am the Sister of Succession to the Father." Lance nodded, smiling and slightly flushed, getting up and shaking the hand that emerged along with the blonde hair.

"The pleasure is mine. I'm Lamb Klivmt." Her sinuous fingers tightened around his. Elise peeked out with part of her face, slightly frowning. Lance looked at her, confused, sensing something moving in front of him.

"Why do you lie if it's the first time we've met? You're just like me!" She smiled, with that voice so unsettlingly melodious and mature. Lance, on the other hand, perceived the golden Frequency behind her swaying sinuously. With a sigh, he nodded, biting his thumb and drawing blood.

"What are you doing?!" She immediately came out of her hiding place, but was stopped by Lance, who had already hardened the blood on the tips of his fingers as if it were a claw.

"I was dishonest earlier. I am Lance Klint, and just like you, I'm a special person… But don't tell anyone!" Elise smiled, almost amazed, caressing the sharp blood nails. She cut herself too, startling him and immediately making him regenerate.

"Don't worry, it's already closed. Anyway, how do you do that thing with your blood? I can only close wounds quickly and see strange golden spheres around people. You're full of them, like a swarm of fireflies!" Lance sighed, examining her finger, only slightly smeared.

"I'm not an expert, honestly…" Lance looked her right in the eye, smiling"Those orbs... Did they move when I lied?" Elise nodded furiously, shaking her golden hair.

"Usually people aren't that bright, and they get even darker when they live, but you are still luminous!" The sister smiled, half closing her eyes.

"Then, Elise, I will teach you any enlightening things I can on us 'special people,' but you have to help me. Can you promise me?" Elise stared at him in silence, then burst out laughing.

"I like you. You're a good person. I'll gladly help you! Of course, this will be our secret." Lance swallowed, adjusting his collar and trying to stay calm as the nun stepped out of her refuge, smiling amiably. She came alongside him and stopped, silent. The boy looked at her, confused, taking a step forward. Elise did the same, once again, in parallel. Lance stepped back, and the girl followed. After a couple of steps, the girl stared at him, blushing.

"I'm sorry, I'm shy… I don't like being either behind or in front of people. It might give the impression that I'm moody or worse." Lance nodded, giving a nod.

"That's fine, don't worry. It's a good thing you told me. You lead the way! I'll follow step by step." Elise smiled, and both set off through the corridors of that unsettling cathedral.