Chapter 3: 3. The Holy City of Edenia – Heresy City Arc.

3. The Holy City of Edenia - Heresy City Arc.

The locals call it the Holy City of Edenia, to some it’s a holy land of pilgrimage, to others it’s an oppressive religious city, others call it home for mass murderers but to members of the Old Order, it’s all of those things.

    Serafim and Saewynn marched into the city, the look Serafim saw almost made him smile as her mouth was agape at the sight of the towering, labyrinthine gothic city.

     The entire area felt untouched by the modern world and had this polished, religious appeal to it, large buildings of heavy dark brown stone spread like an uncontrolled flame in a forest with hundreds of sculpted statues of different gods lining the cobblestone-filled area.

    “It’s…. beautiful,” Saewynn said as Serafim watched her scan the city. “Doesn’t look like they’d be a Klipah for miles.”

    Serafim raised a brow and sighed, smacking his palm on his forehead, the brown wrap-covered statue in his arms began to get heavier. “Don’t speak of those… creatures it’s not allowed in these parts, never know when one of those clerics is nearby. You could end up somewhere else if you’re not careful.”

     Serafim took her nod as an affirmative, he had heard rumors of the High Priest’s special sect of priests that he tended to use to deal with those who don’t agree with the message of their gods.

   Rumor has it they can give an exorcist a good run for their money. They have the numbers to back it up, Serafim remembered, the hum of a familiar lullaby escaped his lips, his mind tried distracting itself by taking in the picturesque buildings and statues most made out of polished black stone that seemed to defy gravity, the bleeding red of the dying sunlight was the only thing illuminating them, giving them an uncannier look.

    When he was about to face down creatures born from humanity’s deepest darkest emotions. Serafim did what little he could to keep the dying flame in a violent gale of wind, the last withering embers of hope in his heart.

     He’d often hum the lullaby his mother used to sing to his little brother, Morgen.

        If life cuts off your wings then use your feet and run. If it cuts off your legs, use your hands to crawl whatever you do Serafim, the only thing it can’t take from you is that flame in your heart, the flame of hope. Serafim smiled as her words crossed his mind, soon giving way to a faint frown on his face, even in near homelessness she managed to keep that smile and her love for poetry.

   He steeled his resolve even if her words never did that much to quench the sense of creeping dread he felt from the city just from the spiritual presence itself but they were better than walking in silence, he clenched his fist and placed it over his chest, remembering the last of her words. The only way to keep that flame from dying out is to keep struggling through the storm.

      He tried to keep the fake, friendly smile he gave to the nearby citizens, most of them dressed in orange and red religious garb whilst others wore a slight variation of it, a religion he recognized almost immediately. Ilycism.

    He noticed a group of women dressed in outfits that reminded him of some sort of strange variation of a nun's habits, the flaps of their clothing looked a bit too… fleshy. Even putting it like that wasn’t as accurate though, it resembled that of the western lands of Veelon.

 They prayed underneath the statue of a winged goddess, with an appearance of a huge, centaur except she was joined to the back of a massive, horse-like abomination making it look like she was riding it. One of her hands resembled a shield that was taller than her body, the other ending in a massive, lance out of her flesh.

    The Knight Priestess, Yath-Akheeh. Wish Hermés was here to see this, he loves this kinda stuff.

     “Serafim!” Saewynn said, waving a hand over his face, causing Serafim to reach for a scythe that wasn’t there on instinct alone. “Everything alright?”

“Huh? Oh I just… uh, spaced out for a minute.” Serafim said as he focused his gaze on the sides of the cobbled streets. “Just up ahead, there’s an inn nearby.”

    Serafim noticed a familiar statue of a horrifying shadowy-looking abomination that stood as tall as trees with short and thick hoofed legs, piles of tentacles protruding from its upper half where a human body would be, with writhing, agonized faces stuck in eternal screams.

    “H-How did you escape from the Abyss?” Serafim struggled to even get the words out as beads of sweat began to trickle down his forehead, it took him a few moments to recognize it was only a statue and not the actual thing as something wrapped itself around his hand.

  He looked down to see Saewynn’s hand clasped over his, a half smile on the corners of her lips as she stood between the open mahogany door. “It’ll be okay.”

     Serafim regained his composure and marched into the inn with her, the chime of the doorbell echoing as they entered, almost as if into another world.

   The somber orange glow from the candles in the wrought, black iron chandeliers overhead lit the dark brown room with an old-world melancholy that amazed Serafim. The highly decorated front of the room was lined with heavy area rugs and the walls were adorned with religious tapestries that reminded him of a creation myth of sorts as well as more statues of their strange gods.

 

    The sound of the doorbell made the bronze-skinned woman at the gorgeous, ornate wooden desk perk up and look in their direction.

      “Welcome to one of the best inns in Edenia, may her name be revered.” The woman greeted, ending the last part of her sentence by bringing both her palms together as if in prayer to the side of her face. “You looking for a room?”

     “Yes, I appreciate the welcome,” Serafim replied, changing his voice from its usual soft-spoken tone to a more cordial one, trying his best not to show his disdain for being something he isn’t but he didn’t exactly pick the job description of being an exorcist so he had to deal with it. “We’ll be visiting the holy city for a while.”

   “How wonderful!” The woman said in a perky, tremulous tone with a smile on her face as she unhooked a key from the wall, few strands of black hair fell from her tied bun. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you plan on doing in our holy city?”

     Serafim caught glimpse of Saewynn opening up to speak, placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiled at the lady as he planted the statue on the ground. “We make a living selling religious artifacts that our late grandfather spent his life working on.”

    “Was he from Edenia? May her name be revered.”

”Why yes, he was the great craftsman Eschermann.”

Serafim noticed her face dawn with recognition and soon a faint smile formed at the edges of her mouth. “I remember Eschermann, a strange man he was, left our holy city over six years ago, so this is one of his last pieces.”

    “Yes, I’ve been told it’s from the Gibor Era,” Serafim informed her, maintaining his smile and hoping he gave her the right code, unveiling the statue, a beautifully crafted clay figure of a priest clad in an ornate robe, his palm outstretched and facing outwards with tentacles that emerged from beneath the robes. “It’s a statue of His Bravery, High Kraslucist Berenwald, quite the rare piece.”

      “Wow, that’s quite the piece, hope it sells well.” The woman said as she stepped out of the desk and gestured for them to follow her into the corridor

    The two of them followed her through the candle-lit corridor, the woman turned to face him, her lips pressed into a thin line before she addressed Serafim with a more serious expression. “Are you the one Wilhelm sent? The Red-Eyed Priest?”

     Serafim nodded, noticing her shoulders relax as she let out a light exhale, her gaze was sideways. “You’ll stay here for the night, do not fail us, exorcist. The fate of what’s left of the Followers depends on you and the warriors of our God-Queen’s hands.”

     “How’s the situation?” Serafim asked, ushering a resisting Saewynn into their room, his gaze still fixed on the woman, he noticed his emotions reflected in her sorrowful expression. That’s all I need to know.

    Serafim bowed as the woman placed her hands on the back of his head, before entering his room, a sign of blessing according to their faith. Their room was similar to the entrance, large, and with the candlelight bathing the place in a lush, firework of orange, heavy fur rugs lined the room with a variety of paintings and miniature bronze figurines of religious importance.

    Saewynn had crashed on the thick brown blankets of her king-sized bed, shooting up as Serafim closed the door, she crossed her arms and anchored his gaze at him. “I hate to be rude but why do I feel like you’re not cluing me in on anything? What’s with the lady? Who are the Followers?”
    “That’s exorcist ears only,” Serafim stated, his tone filled with no emotion, stroking his chin before shrugging her shoulders. “I guess you’re a part of this mission so I guess that makes you an Associate exorcist by default. That woman is with the Order, she’s our sayanim, think of her as someone who helps out exorcists in hostile territory like this place. She’s also a part of the Children of the Ainsoph, one of the founding religions of the city, the last bastion of a revolution against the Lihaa.”
“Wait a minute,” Saewynn said as she scrambled away from where Serafim was seated, deeper into the embrace of the shadows from the bed’s canopy, Serafim could still make out her frightened expression. “Ilycism is real? You mean… Y-You can’t be talking about…”

    Serafim nodded, he had had far too many close calls with Lihaa than he’d like to remember. “Oh they’re real, the rumors of it being scary stories parents tell their kids was disinformation by the Order to prevent civilians from seeking out the art of flesh crafting, a Lihaa specialty.”

     “I’m surprised you exorcists are so trusting of people doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

     “It’s more of a contract really, a pretty messed up one at that, wouldn’t be surprised. The Order tends to not leave any loose ends lying around. I’m guessing it’s a trade, the Order helps the revolutionaries while the revolutionaries’ allies provide sanctuary for our people. “ Serafim explained. “Even so, the Order is glad to engage in a proxy war against the High Priest, they’ve been trying to overthrow him for years and this time they can have plausible deniability. It’s a win-win for them and a loss for everyone else.”

     “So we’ve been thrown into some kind of holy war?”

“I’ve been thrown into this war but that’s not my problem what god or gods these idiots choose to lay their lives for. Quite frankly if god did exist he must have a sick sense of humor leaving his kids in a shitty situation like the Lower Caste Areas.” Serafim said as he crossed his arms and remembered his time in the Abyss, squeezing his fists until he felt his knuckles burn, his hand reaching up to touch his eyepatch.

     “Always going in on his own and leaving me out of the fun stuff,” Saewynn grumbled as she looked to the side, Serafim caught another glimpse of her faintly baggy eyes. “You’re not in this on your own you know?”

     “Trusting in other people is like willingly being tied up in a chair with an insanely sharp blade over your head, held up by a single strand of hair, why do it if you know how it ends,” Serafim said, his words sounded like they came from experience, from a wounded man that never stopped walking even in his battered state. “Why be held down by other people’s weakness and let the day when they leave you come down and rip you apart when you can never sit in the chair in the first place and rely on your strength? Plus you’re just a kid, you’ll get in the way.”

   Where was he when my brother was taken away from me? Where was he when I was thrown into the Abyss against my will? If God exists he doesn’t care about us, couldn’t even give us peace after death but what did I expect? Life’s a struggle why should I expect life after death to be any different?

   “Serafim?” Saewynn asked, her expression looking rather concerned. “You alright? It happened again.”

     “Oh, it’s nothing really. I just zoned out.” Serafim swept aside her concerns, his hand digging into his coat pocket, and tossed her knife which she clasped in midair with amazing precision and little to no difficulty. “I see you’re good with your hands huh?”

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Saewynn’s brow was raised, expression remained the same as she moved closer. Serafim wasn’t sure she was convinced but at least she changed the topic. “I was part of a trapeze act at the circus, picked up a few knife skills from the jugglers.”

     Serafim hung his coat on a nearby hanger. There’s no avoiding this, maybe I could lock her in here? But she’d panic and draw too much attention if she gets involved with this Klipah, I don’t know how she’d react knowing what happened to her fam- Wait why do I even care what happens to her that’s… not like me.

     Serafim bit his bottom lip, the clash between emotion and logic continued before he ultimately came to a decision. “If you insist on coming then we can head off to see one of the priests of the Healing Word Cathedral.”

    The two of them made their way outside the room, the woman at the desk raise a curved brow, and a quick flash of a frown was fixed on her face for a moment. “Heading out so soon?”

    “Yes, we plan on going sightseeing around the city before meeting our buyer,” Serafim said in an upbeat, cordial tone with a smile that crinkled his eyes. “We’ll be back soon.”

    Serafim and Saeywnn strolled down the cobbled streets, groups of families, friends, and all sorts of people bypassed them. The towers that overlooked the city were just beyond the sides of the cathedral they were headed towards, topped by a well-made spire that cast its all-seeing eye over the city’s landscape.

     “Is that something you and your friends can do often? It’s brilliant really.”

“We get trained from a young age,” Serafim said, catching her queue to avoid saying anything related to exorcists and the Order. “We learn how to fight with even the most impractical weapons to the utmost perfection. We study the culture of different afterlives like Hades or Valhalla down to neighboring afterlives like Shechakimi and Raki’ah in case we get sent there.”

      “I’ve always wanted to take a trip to Raki’ah, heard it’s got nice places to settle down.”

“Yeah and how’s that working out for you?”
     A quick, loud pounding sound filled the nearby surroundings before Serafim clutched his shoulder and gritted his teeth, wincing as a burst of throbbing pain spread all over his shoulder. “They say those who speak the truth are the ones who’re silenced, guess that’s true huh?”

    “Hmph,” Saewynn said, crossing her arms and tilting her head away from him. A little smile formed at the corners of her mouth before she placed a hand over her mouth and stifled a laugh. “I can’t believe people think you’re some bloodthirsty maniac, I’m glad I got to know the other side of the Red-Eyed Reaper.” 

   Serafim couldn’t help but smile, the pain that lacerated his shoulder had begun to seize. She was crying almost the entire night, I’m glad to see she’s kind of getting well, it’s never easy in the aftermath of a Klipah attack.

   The two of them stopped in front of the cathedral’s imposing mahogany doors, two maroon-cloaked individuals stood in front of the gate.

    Strange rune-like symbols that looked like a bizarre combination of hieroglyphs and Arabic script, were embroidered around their cloaks, constantly slithering and coiling around them as they let out a faint bronze glow. It’s almost as if-

  “It’s like veins bulging underneath living skin.” Serafim heard Saewynn mutter underneath her breath, noticing his observation as well.

     They nodded at Serafim and Saewynn before greeting them. “Fear the ones born of the old blood, blessed child of the All-Mother. Go in peace.”

     Serafim and Saewynn bowed before strolling into the cathedral as the two gates opened vertically, one sliding up and the other down. It was almost as if he was being fed into the very jaws of hell themselves, just waiting to swallow him whole.

   Navigating through the narrow network of corridors and passageways was complicated enough but taking peeks at rooms where people were tied up on stone slabs with hooded priests around them, knives in hand or Lihaa stretching, twisting, and rearranging their flesh into a wide assortment of uncanny shapes. As well as multiple, open black coffins with horrific runes on the sides with grey cadaveric shriveled-up corpses lying cross-armed inside.

   Why do they look like they’re made out of rotting flesh? Serafim wondered, almost gagging as he curled his upper lip and took a few steps back.

      The ever-watchful gaze of the silver statues of their eldritch gods only made Serafim shudder, he assumed Saewynn felt the same from her tugging her cloak closer to her body, her shoulders slumped.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Saewynn said, clutching her cloak closer to her body, her hands were fidgety as she fiddled with her fingers. Serafim noticed her taking glances at them and slight gagging. “Looks like he was part of the priesthood.”

    Serafim raised his fingers to his left eye, there was no prickling sensation. I felt Wilhelm’s spiritual presence come from here when I entered the city but all of a sudden it’s gone, that doesn’t make any sense, if he’s become a Klipah then it would be almost impossible to hide it.

    Serafim’s right eye widened, and recognition dawned on him as he supported his chin with his fingers. Unless he’s using… no he can’t be using leha’alim to hide his spiritual presence, he was contracted to a Bestia, that’s not possible.

      They paced down the hallways and edged closer to the end of the main hall, this area was more secluded than the other hall, the room lit by a faint, glowing light work of burning torches mounted on bronze metal sconces against the walls.

     A few priests were adorned in layers of hooded blood red robes with golden embroidery that resembled a cloistered nun’s habit with a scarlet wimple underneath the hood which was held up by a silver brooch.

     Others wore orange half robes, and multiple ominous hooded figures stood at the end of the wall, dressed in black shadowy cloaks with a bronze half mask with a ghoulish over-extended nose that curved downwards resembling a Plague Doctor mask.

   Saewynn leaned close to him and whispered into his ear. “Is that them?”

      Serafim tried to steal a glance at them, their stern gaze could be felt through those eyes, as if they were staring into his soul, unraveling every dark secret of his life and just praying for the go-ahead to torture him. All Serafim could do was a nod back, swallowing audibly.

    Serafim dawdled towards a free priest, a tall and lanky fair-skinned man in a half robe, his hip-length white beard was secured by a black vein-like band, twisting and coiling around it like a vein on the verge of spluttering out blood. He was good out of earshot range from the Punishment Clerics and he looked like the man whose details he was given by the Old Order. That must be him.

     The man gave a slight bow, which Serafim returned, his focus now anchored on the crimson tattoo of a well-designed, circular sigil with a group of snakeheads, each with the fangs exposed. Saewynn’s freaked-out expression almost made him laugh, her pressed-together lips and narrowed gaze was a sign she noticed this.

    “Greetings, High Marked.” Serafim greeted with a crinkled smile. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

        “Come forth child of Yhan.” The priest called out with his hand raised as Serafim kneeled before him, his sideways glance fell onto the boy beside him. “What is thy name, and from which lands of the fallen kingdom do you hail from?”
     “My name is Peta Faustus, of the Faustus Household,” Serafim said, hands clasped together in prayer with semi-closed eyes, noticing the Lihaa priests' widened eyes even if only for a second. “I’ve come from eastern Rak’iah.”

      “So you’re the one he-“

“High Marked I’d appreciate it if you lowered your tone,” Serafim said, not even losing a bit of composure, noticing concerned stares from other people and the Punishment Clerics shuffle around a bit, one of the whisperings to the other. Stupid idiots gonna get us killed.

    “My apologies, let us meet for the becoming ceremony when the moon turns hollow so that you may bear witness to the beauty of our God Mother and become one in her flesh.” The priest announced, clasping both of Serafim’s cheeks in his palms. Serafim could feel the veins wriggle underneath his skin, tickling his flesh, it almost felt like they were trying to dig into it. “In the eyes of his Righteousness’, he was always fond of the House Faustus. We shall convene at His Righteousness’ throne room on the east room of the top floor of his castle, I believe he’d want to perform it on you himself.”

     “I’ll forever be in your debt High Marked, thank you for this chance to transcend the old flesh and become one with our God Mother. May the Hollowed Moon forever be with you.” Serafim said, sniffling his nose as small trickles of tears streamed down his throat.

     “You have no obligation to be of service to me child, you will soon be with our God Mother in the very flesh.” The priest said, making some odd gesture with his figure as he raised it over Serafim’s head. “Go forth and enjoy the desires of the old flesh but forget not the ideals that High Kraslucist Kehanoth imparted on us upon his becoming.”

   “Thank you, High Marked,” Serafim said with a bow, as he stood up and turned to Saewynn. “Come sister, let us depart from here.”

    And soon, Serafim and Saewynn were on their way out of the main hall but he couldn’t shake the familiar spiritual presence emanating from the place. It could be the Lihaa spiritual presence coming from this church but that isn’t it, there’s something eerily familiar about this.

     Serafim reached up to touch his left eye, there was no prickle or tingling sensation. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing the cloaked figure stand up to his feet, most of his face was shadowed out but he could still make out that unsettling grin.

     Serafim’s eye widened, her breaths shallow and quick as he was engulfed in an ocean of alien, mortifying spiritual presence. His hand reached to his heart on instinct, he felt an arm reach for his back and lead him out of the cathedral, Saewynn’s voice was audible. “C’mon we need to get out of here.”

    Multiple questions raced within his mind and crashed into each other, piling on top of each other as if to form some sort of unsettling pile-up of possibilities, each equally disturbing as the last. Why is he here? Did they send more of them? What kind of Klipah have we been sent to handle, it can’t be a Parvulus or Bestia yet most of us can’t keep up with an Archon. What is the Order thinking?

The final possibility was the one that scared him the most, sweat trickled down his forehead as he cupped it with a palm. He had heard of stories from other exorcists of the Old Order sending out exorcists to their grave here in Edenia, it has a Klipah that even other Klipah feared, this beast was in Edenia and gave Edenia the reputation amongst exorcists as The Graveyard of Priests for obvious reasons.

   Only a single idea swirled within Serafim’s mind, and the possibility couldn’t even be considered, he still hadn’t fixed his mistake and saved his brother from eternal suffering. Yet he couldn’t be sure if he’d join the thousands that fell here before him. Am I gonna join my comrades within this mass grave of a city?

   

 

 

    

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