In the depths of the night, bolts of lightning pierce through the swirling darkness, casting an eerie glow upon the earth below. The very ground quivers in fear with every crack of thunder. Torrential rain falls from the heavens, mercilessly drenching the worn landscape.
And yet, amidst this relentless storm, a decrepit cathedral stands tall and proud, its weathered walls bearing the weight of ages gone by. Within its ancient embrace, a single light flickers weakly, an ephemeral spark of hope amid the surrounding chaos and desolation.
Inside the cathedral, a large wooden cross stands crookedly, its iron chains and mysterious symbols evoking an air of mystery. A pale figure is affixed to the cross, her hands and feet painfully bound by thick iron stakes.
A blaring thunderclap jolts her awake, piercing through the darkness and pulling her away from the depths of her slumber. She groans, feeling the ache reverberating through her body, and struggles to open her heavy eyelids. Gradually, her eyes adjust to the dimly lit surroundings, unveiling a vast chamber that exudes an otherworldly aura, both alien and forbidding.
???: Ow... The pain... It's unbearable…
Her gaze darts around the vast chamber, trying to make sense of her surroundings. But her attention is quickly drawn to her limbs, where gruesome wounds sit. Black iron stakes adorned with mysterious markings penetrate through her hands and feet, driving deep into the crooked cross.
Fear and agony continue to consume her as she desperately struggles, her feeble limbs trembling under the weight of her sagging body. Tears stream down her pale cheeks, mingling with her sobs. Soon, her cries escalate into uncontrollable wailing.
???: AAAAAAAAAAh!!
With each futile attempt to free herself from the stakes, her suffering only intensifies, amplifying the unspeakable agony coursing through her veins.
As her panic reaches its peak, her breaths become shorter and faster, her chest constricting in fear. But suddenly, a profound stillness settles over the room. Her body slumps, hanging limply as if lifeless, the fear and pain proving too overwhelming for her fragile state. Overwhelmed, she succumbs to unconsciousness, her form no more than a lifeless shell.
Amid the relentless storm, the two figures, cloaked in heavy garments and adorned in light leather armor, approach the foreboding cathedral.
Vi's voice quivers with uncertainty, "Are you sure it originated from this place, Ama? This seems like an elaborate trap. This cathedral has been abandoned for decades."
Ama's voice carries a resolute determination, "Yes, I am sure. Let’s proceed cautiously. If the opposition is scarce, we will swiftly kill them ourselves. Otherwise, we must promptly report this to the guild."
Their hushed murmurs fade into the ominous atmosphere as they inch closer to the decaying wooden gate. Their movements were cautious, their senses sharpened as they sidle silently to the right side. Vi stands vigilant, her gaze darting back and forth, while Ama ventures to steal a glimpse through one of the many rows of shattered windows.
The chamber within unveils itself in a haunting tableau. Dilapidation permeates the air as if time itself had corroded the very fabric of the cathedral's soul. Flashes of light from the outside, filtered through cracked stained glass windows, cast eerie shadows upon the debris-strewn floor. The remnants of once majestic pews and fallen stone statues lie scattered, their former grandeur reduced to rubble and dust. The air is thick with the scent of decay and history, a chilling reminder of the forgotten souls that once inhabited this sacred space.
As Ama's gaze sweeps across the chamber, her eyes fixate on the colossal wooden cross at the chamber's end. It towers above, a stark symbol of suffering and redemption. The wood, weathered and worn, seems to bear the weight of countless prayers and pleas for mercy. Adorned with iron chains and mysterious symbols, the cross exudes an aura of mystery and ancient power.
But it is the figure suspended from the cross that sends a shiver down Ama's spine. Pale and ghostly, she hangs limply, her body held captive by cruel iron stakes that pierce her flesh. Her ashen skin, marred by wounds and torment, tells a harrowing tale of pain and suffering. Her face, once vibrant and full of life, now reflects only resignation and despair.
The faint light that flickers through stained glass casts an ethereal glow upon her as if highlighting the stark contrast between her torment and the sanctuary that surrounds her. She is a solitary beacon of both hope and despair, a prisoner in this cursed domain. The air seems to tremble with the weight of her anguish as if the very fabric of reality has been torn apart to accommodate her suffering.
Ama's breath catches in her throat as she takes in the scene before her. The oppressive silence of the cathedral is broken only by the distant rumblings of thunder and the mournful drip of rainwater leaking through the dilapidated ceiling. It is a haunting symphony, a melody of despair that reverberates through the empty halls.
She can feel the weight of history and pain that hangs heavy in the air, the remnants of forgotten prayers and unanswered pleas that linger in every crack and crevice. It is as if the cathedral itself is a vessel, containing the collective sorrow and torment of those who sought solace within its confines.
Amid the enveloping darkness and desolation, a flicker of hope persists. The feeble light that emanates from the cross, though dim, steadfastly refuses to be snuffed out. It serves as a poignant reminder that even in the face of unfathomable chaos and boundless suffering, the flame of faith and resilience can endure. As the pale figure hangs from the cross, her ragged breaths cause her chest to rise and fall, a testament that she still clings stubbornly to life.
Ama's heart aches as she gazes upon the pale figure, her resolve strengthened by the sight. Empathy surges within her—a steadfast desire to free the captive soul from its torment.
Ama: Vi... Someone has been crucified on a large wooden cross inside. That person is likely the one we heard.
Vi’s eyes narrow, her features marred by a deep frown. "Anyone else?"
Ama's gaze sweeps the chamber one last time. "No sign of anyone else. Let’s go check it out. Hopefully, that girl is still alive."
Vi hesitates briefly, scanning her surroundings one last time before nodding.
Ama motions for Vi to join her near the broken window. Together, they silently hop through the shattered glass and inch closer to the looming wooden cross. Each step reverberates through the chamber like a defiant thud against the encroaching darkness.
Cautiously, they advance past rows of shattered pews and cracked stone. Vi surveys the vast chamber before abruptly signaling to stop.
Ama slowly lowers her arms toward her sheathed daggers and whispers: “Why did we stop?”
Vi points toward the cracked stone floor ahead. “Something’s wrong. This place looks untouched—no footprints, no signs of life. I haven't found any other way deeper into the cathedral either. The only entrance I’ve spotted so far is the main gate behind us.”
Ama's anxiety surfaces, a trace of tension in her eyes. “...Should I use [Mana Pulse]?”
Vi turns to Ama, locking eyes. “No. I think we should retreat. This is too dangerous.”
Ama’s expression hardens. “No, we will rescue her. That’s an order.”
The tense standoff continues for a few breaths time before Vi lets out a deep irritated sigh.
Vi: “This will be the last time, we can’t run headlong into danger every time we-”
Ama waves her hand and cuts her off. “Less talk more saving, we’ll talk about this later.”
Intense emotions of anxiety, worry, and irritation rapidly flicker on Vi’s face before she grits her teeth and growls out “Fine. But I will report this if we get out of this alive.”
Ama just rolls her eyes and starts advancing. “You worry too much.”
With every footfall, the ground seemed to release a sigh of dust, a mournful tribute to the relentless deluge. The rain's tumultuous rhythm and sporadic lightning flashes only deepened the unsettling atmosphere, leaving a sense of unease clinging to every step.
As they draw nearer, the storm outside crescendoes, unleashing a torrential downpour that hammers against the few unbroken stained glass windows. The lightning flashes a path before them, illuminating their path forward, while thunder booms in affirmation of their mission.
Vi's anxiety deepens as her gaze becomes ensnared by the intricate mystical symbols etched into the cross. Dark whispers, eerie echoes, and otherworldly wails seep into her mind, each carrying a haunting weight that threatens to consume her thoughts.
"Ama," Vi's voice trembles, barely a whisper amidst the unsettling ambiance.
The abyssal shadows around her transform into a multitude of sinewy arms, reaching out with an insatiable hunger. They claw and grasp, pulling her towards the suffocating depths. Frozen in terror, her heart pounds in her chest as she desperately fights against the invisible chains that seek to ensnare her.
"VI!" Ama's voice breaks through the cacophony, a lifeline amidst the chaos. Her words pierce through the darkness, tethering Vi to reality. The world snaps back into focus, leaving Vi gasping for air as though she had been underwater for too long. Her body quivers, drenched in a cold sweat that clings to her skin. The residual echoes of the abyss still reverberate in her ears, a lingering reminder of the horrors she had just witnessed.
Vi’s legs give out but are caught by Ama’s reassuring arms before lowering her to the ground.
Ama's voice is laced with worry as she implores, "Vi! What happened? Are you alright?"
Vi's arms envelop Ama in an iron grip, her trembling body pressed against her friend's for solace. Her breaths come in ragged gasps, each one a lifeline as she struggles to rein in her racing heart. "Haa... I just... Haah... Need a minute..." Her voice quivers with residual fear, and she glances aside, avoiding the mesmerizing pull of the cross's symbols.
Ama's touch is gentle, a soothing rhythm against Vi's back as she seeks to provide comfort. Her own heart still flutters, rattled by the surreal events they've just experienced. She keeps her gaze averted from the haunting symbols as she explains and warns Ama of what she saw, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along Vi's arm as they both grapple with the unsettling aftermath.
Ama's melodious voice is a calm anchor in the midst of turmoil. "It's okay, Vi. I won't look. We'll rest for a moment here."
