NOVEL WEB Chapter 3: Black tears
Sliver ran through the corridors in desperation. His pale, contorted face was that of someone who had seen death… and returned marked by it.
"–The flame… Heavens, help us!" — he thought, his stomach twisting with a stabbing, freezing dread.
He had been cleaning the fountain… and in the next instant…
He shook his head, trying to drive out the horror. His monk's robe clung to his sweat-soaked body, and his footsteps echoed against the cold marble as the staircases stretched on endlessly — as if the temple itself were trying to stop him.
The Grand Master was in meeting with the Archbishop. No one could interrupt — and those who dared would not be forgiven. But right now, punishment was a luxury Sliver could not afford.
Something had happened.
Something that human words were not enough to explain.
As he burst through the doors of the chamber, his voice broke.
— It doesn't matter if it's a child… it must be—
The Grand Master's sentence died at the thunderous crash.
— Grand Master! Most Holy… forgive me, but—
A violet light, as cold as the Archbishop's eyes, silenced him.
The Grand Master raised a hand, channeling a celestial magic, icy as a blade.
— Insolent! — he roared, tall and thunderous, his white robe adorned with a flaming golden sash at the waist. — How dare you interrupt a sacred meeting on land blessed by the Angel?
Sliver dropped to his knees. The scent of ozone and scorched flesh thickened the air. His chest heaved, tears mingling with the fresh marks of magic on his skin.
The Archbishop, a man with stern gray eyes, leaned slightly forward without losing his solemn composure.
— Most Holy — he said firmly, though with a rare flicker of mercy — the boy is far too distraught to ignore. If this is a worldly whim, I shall administer divine punishment myself.
The mystical energy faded, and Sliver collapsed against the marble, exhausted. The burns etched into his skin like marks of sacrifice.
— Speak — Kieran commanded.
— It happened again… — Sliver gasped, forehead pressed to the floor. — Another flame… went out.
The silence that followed was more oppressive than any scream.
The two leaders, once immobile, stood with sudden urgency, their stomachs turning as if invisible worms devoured their dread. The solemnity gave way to a terror they dared not name. Within their hardened souls, a silent prayer: that it was all just a delusion from the young devotee.
Kieran was the first to break the trance, kicking the Sanctuary doors with a crash that echoed through the temple.
The oval hall opened wide, encircled by nine marble statues of angels, each guarding an ethereal flame within a stone basin enchanted by divine runes. Fragments drawn from celestial souls — the ultimate protection of Maltia, its balance, the sacred shield of humankind.
But now… two flames were gone.
And worse still… from the empty eye sockets of the statues whose flames had vanished, a thick black liquid oozed.
It didn't smell of rot — the air carried a sickeningly sweet scent, like honey gone foul.
— Fifty years… — murmured the Grand Master, his eyes bloodshot with fury and disbelief. — One went out… and now another… Jegudiel… Fanuel…
He paced in circles, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
— They're coming, Most Holy… — said the Archbishop, his voice openly shaken. — The Seven… The Holy War… it's beginning again.
The Grand Master halted, eyes fixed on the flickering flames.
— No… not if we find the Null Point first.
Kieran turned to him, incredulous.
— That's just a legend!
The old man gave a bitter smile.
— Legends are truths that were buried, my son. Behind every one, there's always a real story.
He walked out through the doors, the weight of age and duty heavy on his shoulders.
Sliver, still kneeling, gathered the strength he had left.
— Sir… forgive me… but… what will happen?
The Archbishop stopped, and for the first time, his eyes softened.
— You may call me Bishop Kieran, boy — he replied, walking slowly. — We must prepare. Everything you know — peace, balance — depends on this chamber. Do not be afraid. The Heavens will not allow our fall.
But as he turned and disappeared, the trembling in his voice betrayed the uncertainty he preferred to hide.
---
As the Grand Master crossed paths with Kieran in the corridor, he spoke directly:
— Gather the Knights of Penance. This can no longer be ignored.
Kieran nodded, but before leaving, he dared to ask:
— Do you think they can do it?
The old man leaned over a goblet of wine, exhausted.
— They may be barbaric fools, but they're useful. Go. I want this over.
— And what about… — Kieran began, burdened with obligations.
— Handle it later. The flames come first — said the Grand Master, holding a letter of denunciation a moment before tucking it away and drinking.
---
Grinre Training Grounds
The metallic clang of weapons still tore through the air.
The twelve nephilim — Knights of Penance — trained with fury, swollen pride, eager to prove their worth.
Kieran appeared, his imposing presence silencing the chaos. His robes flowed, and his gray eyes scanned each face. Nephilim — unpredictable beings, skeptical of anything beyond strength.
— Something terrible has happened in the Sanctuary — he announced, voice sharp as steel. — A second flame has gone out. Something is threatening the balance. All of Maltia is at risk.
Luke crossed his arms, tossing his head back defiantly.
— What could be strong enough to extinguish another flame?
— That's what you're going to find out — Kieran replied, each word sounding like a decree. — Start in the center of Maltia. Track down any anomaly, no matter how small. Our faith is being tested. We must find the Null Point — or whatever is behind this.
— A blind hunt… — muttered Luzara, legs crossed with disdain. — How… delightful.
Ignored.
Elaut opened the map and spoke, tracing routes.
— We'll head to Umbra. From there, we'll split across the Four Kingdoms. Nothing will go unchecked.
Kieran raised his gaze to the heavens, seeking invisible strength.
— May the Nine Ancients protect you.
— Seven — Lilia corrected, with irony.
Luke, Mirta, and Edgar chuckled under their breath.
— Cut it out, idiots! — Elon snapped, anxious.
— Don't be such a worrier… If the so-feared Seven Deadly Sins show up, we'll crush them! — Mirta said, with a smirk.
— Cataclysms — Elaut corrected, still bent over the map.
— Nobody cares… Let those freaks come, they'll taste the power of the nephilim — Luke said arrogantly, caressing his weapon.
Astor raised his bow. One by one, the others followed — part of an ancient ritual.
— In the name of the Nine Ancients… Maltia shall be cleansed of evil!
— For the Nine! — they shouted, while the shadow of the extinguished flames loomed over them.
---
Vallyte Dungeons
The moans of prisoners still echoed like whispers in the wind — a sound that chilled anyone who ventured too close.
— Well, well… if it isn't the prince of death… Sebastian the Bloody — said a sensual, velvety voice. Light steps. Chains. And soon, a figure appeared: filthy, ragged — and stunningly beautiful. A wicked smile adorned her red lips. Her delicate face clashed with black hair and green eyes. She was the hidden danger of a powerful witch.
— Cibele… if you value your life, don't start with jokes — he replied coldly, his eyes full of contempt.
The young witch straightened up and met his gaze with pride. She had nothing left to lose — and she knew his presence meant something. This was her chance to leave that place.
— What is it? Didn't come to execute me, did you?
— Had a vision, witch? — he asked, crossing his arms.
Cibele made a face of frustration.
— You know this pit drains my power. I can barely stand! — she snapped, stepping forward. The chains reacted to her tension, electrocuting her.
— AAHH! — she screamed, her body convulsing.
— Careful, sweetheart… let's not be rash — Sebastian taunted, crouching down to grab her face. She tried to pull away, in vain.
— I… didn't have visions. But I felt something. Nights ago. A sensation… a tremor — she whispered, shivering. — As if… something…
— Had shaken the magic of Maltia — he finished, seeing her nod. — A second flame went out days ago.
— What?! — Cibele nearly screamed, her green eyes wide in shock and anticipation.
— An anomaly appeared. A young girl. She's causing trouble for the Church… and now, for the Sangria too.
She froze when she heard that.
— It has begun — she murmured, almost to herself.
— Yes. It's only a matter of time — he said, releasing her chains. — And we're not going to be left behind, are we?
— What do you want from me? — she asked, serious, rubbing her sore wrists.
— Gather your coven. Convince them to work with me. Stay alert. I'll support you. You serve the Seven… and now, you'll help them return to their rightful place.
— Why? Aren't the fae no longer loyal? I thought your allegiance was with the queen — she said. Before she could finish, a slap sent her to the ground.
— My loyalty will always be with my people and my sister. And sometimes… sacrifices are necessary — he spat.
She stood, ignoring the blow — for now.
— This won't be easy. Witches and fae don't just become friends…
Sebastian sighed. He knew it. Not killing her was already torture.
— Here. Proof of my… goodwill — he said, handing her Ema's hair.
Cibele took it cautiously. The moment she touched the strands, she felt the tremor. She waited… and nothing. Silence. She stared for a few seconds, astonished.
— Peculiar, isn't it? I feel the magic… or rather, I feel it being absorbed. Imagine the potential of its owner — he said, with a dangerous smile.
— This changes everything — Cibele murmured, almost to herself, pressing the strands to her chest like a sacred charm.
— My personal guard will get you out. Take this with you. In return, I want your coven's help.
— Of course… my darling executioner — she teased, smiling like a wolf eyeing its prey.
He rolled his eyes.
— I'll prepare something for you to deliver to our anomaly — she said, grabbing his arm.
Suddenly, a wound opened on his forearm, bleeding. Before he could pull back, Cibele brushed Ema's hair across the wound, staining it with the dark, nearly black blood.
— What are you doing?! — he growled, tense, watching the thick drops fall.
— I'll show you what real power is — she answered proudly, hiding the bloodstained strands. Sebastian could have stopped her… but morbid curiosity held him back.
Without another word, she walked through the back corridor of the cell, her chest burning with hope, fear, and excitement. Sebastian watched her for a moment — then vanished, swallowed by the shadows, as if part of them.