[The Second Day of Destruction, 00:25]
[Inside the Cathedral of Earth — The Nave]
Air inside the vaulted halls of the Earth Cathedral thickened into a suffocating miasma.
Burning frankincense previously offered a comforting reminder of the Supreme Six. That holy scent vanished completely. The stench of fresh blood overwhelmed the incense. Scorched flesh and terrified sweat polluted the sanctuary.
Architects designed the building to hold five thousand worshippers in quiet contemplation. Tonight, the cathedral functioned as a sprawling slaughterhouse. Desperate clerics had shoved polished oak pews aside to make room for hundreds of cots. The salvaged wood proved woefully insufficient. Wounded soldiers lay shoulder-to-shoulder across the stone floor.
High above the carnage, great murals of the Earth God looked down upon the misery. Artists had depicted the deity holding the world upon broad shoulders. Glancing upward, Lucina felt the painted stone eyes now stared at nothing.
"Hold him down! He is tearing the stitches!" a nearby voice barked.
"Water," an old woman moaned from the shadows. "Please. Just a drop."
Blind hands grasped uselessly at the smoke-filled air.
"My eyes! I cannot see the light! Where is the light?!"
A young soldier screamed while clawing at the bloody gauze wrapped around his face. Vitreous fluid slicked his frantic fingers.
Moving through this labyrinth of suffering, Lucina ignored the tacky feeling of half-dried blood coating her white vestments. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. She stood over a shattered guardsman. Pressing her palms firmly against his torn abdomen required forcing the final dregs of her magical reserves into a [Cure Light Wounds] spell.
The flesh of the man hissed. Muscle and skin knit together in an uneven rush to leave behind an angry scar. The soldier offered no thanks. He slumped immediately into the numb sleep of the deeply traumatized.
Lucina staggered backward. Her vision swam violently. Catching herself on the edge of a stone pillar, she gasped for air tasting only of ash.
"Pace yourself, Lucina," a voice murmured.
Turning toward the sound, she found Caelan. The junior priest resembled a walking ghost. Soot smeared his exhausted face. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes like physical bruises. He carried a wooden bucket of water alongside a stack of torn linen.
"I cannot do this, Caelan," Lucina whispered. Her voice trembled. "There are too many. The moment I close one wound, three more bleeding bodies are carried through the doors. My mana pool is entirely hollow."
"Drink this," Caelan instructed.
He handed her a small glass vial. It contained a single drop of blue liquid representing the diluted remains of a minor mana potion.
"High Priest Aris ordered us to thin the reserves. This is everything we have left."
Swallowing the bitter liquid, Lucina felt a pathetic spark of energy return to her core. She looked across the hall. High Priest Aris knelt beside a row of dying children. The hands of the old man shook visibly as he chanted the final rites. He lacked the mana to cast healing magic. He resorted to draining his own life force to ease their passing. He actively sacrificed his remaining years merely to keep the children quiet.
A wave of anxiety threatened to crush the chest of the young priestess. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clutched the silver pendant hanging around her neck.
Do not falter, she commanded herself.
Her knuckles turned white against the metal holy symbol. This cathedral represented her entire world. Born here in the capital to a field medic, she still remembered her father kissing her forehead before marching east to repel a beastman invasion. He never returned. Scavengers left his bones to bleach in a nameless wilderness.
The Earth Cathedral had taken the orphaned girl in. Older priests forged her grief into absolute faith. She refused to let them die. She refused to let her courage break.
Opening her eyes, she regained her focus. "Who is next?"
"Captain Thorne," Caelan said softly.
He gestured to a large man lying on a cot nearby. Survivors belonging to the rearguard had carried the veteran inside an hour ago. Thorne resembled a mountain of muscle, yet he looked incredibly small beneath the layers of soot. A concussive blast at the outer gates had reduced his right leg to a pulp of shattered bone.
Lucina moved to his side. Placing her hands over the ruined limb, she prepared to beg her deity to knit the flesh one final time.
Then the air pressure inside the cathedral vanished.
No sound accompanied the shift. A metaphysical shockwave bypassed the stone walls entirely. It struck the minds of every living soul within the room simultaneously. The [Eye of Vecna] had pulsed.
The chaotic din of the infirmary ceased. The screaming, the crying, and the frantic prayers were instantly silenced. A collective gasp replaced the noise.
"What is this?" High Priest Aris choked out.
Dropping his wooden staff, he gripped his head. His eyes widened in raw terror.
"Wards! Raise the mental wards! Cast [Protection from—]"
His voice cut off with an internal snap. The body of the old man stiffened rigidly.
The world tilted beneath the boots of the young priestess. A sub-harmonic vibration drilled directly into her skull. It felt as though massive hands reached into her brain. The invisible force forcefully rearranged her thoughts. It systematically began erasing her memories.
"Caelan!" Lucina cried out.
Caelan dropped his bucket. Wood shattered against the stone. He refused to look down. Standing up straight, his exhausted slouch vanished completely. The terror in his eyes dissolved. A milky sheen glazed over his pupils. He turned his back on Lucina without speaking a single word. He began walking toward the main doors.
"Caelan, stop! What are you doing?!"
The impossible unfolded across the sanctuary. The wounded rose from their cots in perfect unison. Men with open stomach wounds stood up. Women missing limbs pushed themselves upward. Soldiers blinded by fire marched forward.
Captain Thorne rose.
He ignored his wooden crutches. Assuming a face as expressionless as a funerary mask, the veteran stood upon a limb that should have collapsed instantly. Jagged bones ground together audibly. Sharp fragments tore through his remaining skin to scrape against the floorboards.
He did not scream. He ignored the girl who had sacrificed her life force to save him. The captain simply joined a queue of bodies forming in the center aisle.
"Captain? Thorne!"
Her voice formed a fragile thread in the vacuum. The psychic weight of the artifact intensified. It felt as though the sky descended to crush the earth.
Lucina fell to her knees. Her fingers clawed desperately at the silver pendant of her office. Sharp metal edges drew blood from her palms. Her mind became a fortress under siege. The walls of her faith crumbled under the bombardment of an alien malice.
Earth God, why is the ground silent?! Her thought became a desperate psychic scream. You promised us the mountains! You promised the foundations would never buckle! Please! The entity operating the artifact offered no rebuttal. It refused to mock her. It simply offered an end. It extended an invitation to a dark world where wounds no longer mattered. It promised a void where grief ceased to exist.
Vision tunneled as a dark fog crept into her mind. The haze snuffed out the image of her father smiling. It erased the holy teachings of Aris. It silenced her terror perfectly.
The silver chain snapped under her desperate grip. The holy symbol clattered against the stone floor. It slid through a puddle of blood to rest like a discarded trinket.
Warmth left her body entirely. Grief for the captain vanished. Love for her friends evaporated. The very concept of her deity faded into the void.
Lucina stood up. Her spine straightened with a series of rhythmic pops. Her eyes paled to the color of a dead moon. Refusing to cast a backward glance at the shattered symbol of her life, she stepped into line behind the bleeding captain.
She became a silent vessel for a master she could no longer refuse.