**Chapter 49 – Shadows of the Past**
**[SACRED CHAMBER OF ELLIS – CARDINAL COUNCIL CHAMBER – 169 DAYS REMAINING]**
Massive doors of black oak carved with sacred symbols in gold **opened** silently — not creaking despite a weight that would require five strong men to move, sliding on magical hinges that eliminated friction completely, revealing an interior that stole the breath even from veterans accustomed to the capital's luxury.
The **Cardinal Council Chamber** was not merely functional — it was a **declaration** of absolute power transmuted into architecture.
The ceiling rose **twenty meters** above — not flat but vaulted in a perfect dome, every centimeter covered by an elaborate fresco painted three centuries ago by a master artist whose name was now only a whisper in historical records, depicting the ascension of Goddess Nellis to the heavens in a spiral of angelic figures and golden light so vivid it seemed to **move** when observed from different angles, colors remaining vibrant through preservation magic woven directly into the paint during its original application.
The walls were not common marble — they were **translucent alabaster** five centimeters thick imported from mines a thousand kilometers away, polished until it shone like solidified moonlight, traversed by veins of sky-blue crystal that **glowed** softly with their own magical light activated at dusk, eliminating the need for torches or candles, creating illumination that was simultaneously functional and profoundly **reverent**.
The floor was a mosaic of absurd complexity — millions of tiny pieces of colored marble, jade, lapis lazuli, onyx, and amethyst forming a gigantic thirty-meter-diameter mandala representing the cosmos according to church theology: Goddess Nellis at the center surrounded by seven concentric circles symbolizing the seven cardinal virtues, each circle containing thousands of microscopic figures of saints and martyrs arranged in geometric patterns that inevitably drew the eye from the outer edge to the divine center.
And **dominating** the room — not decoration but a physical presence that commanded attention — were **three thrones** elevated on a two-meter-high white marble platform accessible only by a twenty-one-step staircase (the sacred number representing perfection multiplied by three), each throne carved from a single block of polished black obsidian interlaced with silver veins forming symbols of ecclesiastical authority, backrests rising three meters and terminating in gothic arches pointing toward the sky, seats cushioned with imperial purple velvet embroidered with real gold thread.
And **seated** upon these thrones — not ordinary men but living pillars of the power structure that governed the faith of an entire continent — the **Three Cardinals of the Central Council**.
---
**[THE THREE CARDINALS]**
To the **left** — **Cardinal Thaddeus Valerium**.
A seventy-two-year-old man who seemed to carry every one of those years etched deeply into a face marked by decades of responsibility, skin tanned like ancient parchment stretched over prominent bone structure, steel-gray eyes that had witnessed three generations of knights born and die in service to the Goddess, snow-white hair combed impeccably back revealing a high forehead marked by deep worry lines, long white beard meticulously trimmed descending to mid-chest and braided into three sections symbolizing the sacred trinity.
He wore a **cardinal's tunic** — not common fabric but black silk imported and dyed through a secret process that cost a small fortune per meter, embroidered with pure silver threads forming star patterns along the sleeves and hem, a medallion of office hanging over his chest: a fifteen-centimeter platinum disk engraved with his personal cardinal seal — scales and crossed sword representing **Justice** as his primary domain.
Gold-framed glasses rested on his aquiline nose — not merely for vision correction but magical lenses that allowed him to **read** unspoken truths in the micro-expressions of anyone speaking before him, making lies practically impossible to conceal, a tool he had used to unmask seventeen conspiracies throughout his career.
Personality: **Rigid**. Inflexible to the point of being considered cruel by subordinates. He believed absolutely in the letter of ecclesiastical law with no room for contextual interpretation. He saw the world in moral absolutes — right or wrong, faithful or heretic, redeemable or damned. But **just** within his own definition of justice — he applied the same impossible standards to himself, sleeping in a simple monastic cell despite being able to have a luxurious suite, fasting two days a week for forty years, never accepting a bribe or favor that could compromise his judgment.
---
In the **center** — **High Cardinal Hadrian Caelestis**.
A sixty-eight-year-old man who transcended age through monastic discipline practiced since youth, posture straight as a blade even after hours seated, skin surprisingly smooth for his age except for fine lines around amber-golden eyes that shone with razor-sharp intelligence constantly **evaluating** everything and everyone, white hair cut short in military style contrasting with a long, perfectly symmetrical white beard cascading in a single flow to his waist tied with a gold ribbon engraved with microscopic prayers.
He wore a cardinal's tunic identical in cut but **distinctly superior** — even finer silk, more elaborate embroidery with threads not just of silver but of **gold** and **platinum** interwoven forming scenes from the life of Goddess Nellis so detailed that each figure had a unique facial expression visible to the naked eye, over his chest hung not one medallion but **three** overlapping: scales (Justice), open book (Knowledge), flaming heart (Compassion) — representing dominion over **all** aspects of the faith.
His glasses were a masterpiece of magical craftsmanship — mithril frames so fine they seemed made of solidified air, lenses carved from rare prophetic crystal that occasionally **showed** fragments of possible futures when he focused intensely on a person or situation, a gift he kept secret except from his innermost circle.
Personality: **Political**. Absolute master of navigating the murky waters of ecclesiastical power. Where Thaddeus saw absolutes, Hadrian saw **nuances** — context, intention, long-term consequences. Capable of maintaining three simultaneous conversations at different levels: what he said verbally, what he communicated through body language, and what he **did not** say but allowed others to **infer**. But not a cruel manipulator — he genuinely believed in serving the greater good, willing to dirty his hands with morally ambiguous decisions if the final outcome saved more souls. He slept well at night because he absolutely trusted his own judgment about what constituted the greater good.
---
To the **right** — **Cardinal Ezekiel Lumaris**.
A seventy-five-year-old man — the oldest of the trio — but **vibrant** in a way that defied age, sky-blue eyes shining with almost childish enthusiasm for theology and philosophy even after fifty years of study, deeply wrinkled skin but perpetually gentle expression that softened the severity of the wrinkles, wild white hair refusing discipline of comb growing in all directions like a silver cloud around his head, equally undisciplined but clean beard descending to his stomach with occasional dark gray strands surviving from distant youth.
He wore a cardinal's tunic but **distinctly** less ornamented than the others — still black silk but simple silver embroidery without excessive elaboration, single medallion of office: a dove in flight representing **Mercy** and **Redemption** as primary domains, the chain of the medallion worn from decades of constant use never replaced because he considered it vanity to change something that still worked perfectly.
His glasses were simpler — dark polished wood frames, ordinary glass lenses without enchantments, used purely for vision correction because he refused to spend church resources on personal luxuries when the same funds could feed orphanages.
Personality: **Compassionate** to the point of worrying his colleagues. He believed deeply in the universal capacity for **redemption** — no soul was permanently lost, only temporarily wayward. He constantly advocated for second chances, third chances, infinite chances if there was a genuine spark of repentance. But **not** naive — he recognized evil when he saw it, simply refused to accept that evil was a **permanent** state of any being. He voraciously read theology from other religions seeking points of connection and mutual understanding, a controversial position that had nearly resulted in his expulsion from the council three times, saved only by Hadrian's intervention recognizing the value of having a dissenting voice to prevent ideological echo chambers.
---
Flanking the room in strategic positions — **eight** elite Golden Paladins, armor shining even under the soft light of wall crystals, motionless as metal statues except for eyes that followed every movement of the visitors with the attention of predators studying potential prey, hands resting casually on sword hilts that could **decapitate** in a fraction of a second if they detected a threat, their presence silently communicating: *The cardinals are untouchable. Test this at your own risk.*
---
**[JÚLIA, SAN & JÉSSICA ENTER]**
The trio crossed the **threshold** — boots making muffled sounds against the elaborate mosaic floor.
Júlia in front — perfect military posture but visible tension in her shoulders to a trained eye.
San behind to the right — eyes slightly **wide** taking in the impossible architecture of the room.
Jéssica behind to the left — neutral analytical expression mentally evaluating the cost of each decorative element.
They walked **twenty steps** in absolute silence — the sound of their own breathing echoing faintly in the perfect acoustics of the domed chamber.
They stopped exactly **ten meters** from the base of the platform where the thrones rose — the protocolar distance established centuries ago.
And **simultaneously** — rehearsed movement through months of training — they dropped to their **right** knees touching the floor, heads **lowered** forty-five degrees in reverence not to men but to the **offices** the men temporarily occupied.
---
Júlia's voice emerged — **firm** despite internal nervousness, projecting through the room:
— We bring the report of completion of our last assigned mission, Your Excellencies. — Protocolar pause of three heartbeats. — We await your permission to present full testimony.
Silence for **five seconds** that felt like five minutes.
---
High Cardinal **Hadrian** in the center tilted his head slightly — a minuscule gesture but carrying the weight of absolute authority:
— Permission **granted**. — Voice emerging surprisingly soft for a man in such elevated position, almost paternal tone. — Rise and report with clarity and absolute truth. The Goddess hears through us, and lying before Her is heresy punishable.
Not a threat.
**Fact**.
Simple statement of theological reality.
---
The trio **rose** — maintaining respectful posture.
Júlia took a deep breath — organizing thoughts, choosing words carefully:
— Report of the assigned mission to the village of **Falcus** located on the border between the kingdoms of Zordis and Kilvis. — Formal, military tone. — Primary objective: elimination of hostile monsters threatening civilian population. Secondary objective: establish the church's presence and spread faith in Goddess Nellis in a region not yet fully converted.
Pause to breathe:
— Both objectives were **fulfilled** with complete success, Your Excellencies. We eliminated seventeen class-C monsters identified as Shadow Wolves infesting the forest near the village. Local population protected. No civilian casualties recorded. No losses among our forces.
Voice gaining slightly more confidence:
— Additionally, we established a temporary chapel in the center of the village with enthusiastic consent from the local inhabitants who demonstrated deep gratitude for divine intervention through our hands. We left the area in **total security** under the continuous protection of the Goddess.
She concluded by bowing her head again:
— This is the complete report, Your Excellencies.
---
**Silence** weighed for three seconds as the cardinals processed.
Thaddeus to the left **narrowed** his eyes slightly — the magical lenses of his glasses **glowing** imperceptibly while analyzing Júlia's micro-expressions for signs of omission or falsehood.
Ezekiel to the right **smiled** gently — genuinely happy about the successful mission and lives saved.
Hadrian in the center maintained a **neutral** expression — already expecting success from a knight of Júlia's rank.
---
Hadrian spoke — maintaining his paternal tone:
— Very **well** executed, Knight Júlia. — Genuine but measured approval. — The Goddess surely smiles upon your dedicated and competent service.
He gestured vaguely upward:
— Now we leave everything in the hands of our Goddess Nellis and Her designated servant, the **Regional Nellicleste** Marcus Stellan, who will assume administrative management of all churches in that region including the chapel you established. Your part in the divine work is complete and recorded in the sacred annals.
Pause:
— You may **withdraw** for now. Return to this sacred house in exactly **half an hour**. There will be… additional discussion regarding next assignments.
Not a request.
**Dismissal**.
---
Júlia, San, and Jéssica bowed **deeply** — ninety degrees, holding the position for three respectful seconds.
Then straightened, turned **synchronously**, and walked toward the exit with measured steps.
The doors **opened** silently as they approached.
**Closed** equally silently after they passed.
Leaving only the **three cardinals** and **eight guards** in the room.
---
**[AFTER JÚLIA'S EXIT]**
Silence held for **ten full seconds**.
Then Thaddeus spoke — voice sharp as a blade:
— The girl is **lying**. Not about the mission facts. But about… something. The glasses caught micro-expressive hesitation three times during the report. She **omitted** something significant.
Ezekiel sighed:
— Thaddeus, please. She completed the mission successfully. Saved lives. Isn't that enough? Must there always be suspicion?
— There must always be **truth**. — Thaddeus retorted firmly. — Omission is the first cousin of lying.
Hadrian raised a hand — gesture silencing the debate before it could escalate:
— Noted and filed, Thaddeus. But without concrete evidence of bad faith, we will not act on suspicions. — Final tone, ending discussion.
He looked toward the massive door:
— There are more… **pressing** matters to discuss.
---
As if summoned by the words — the door **opened** again.
A **figure** entered — not walking casually but marching with absolute military precision.
**Knight Silvano Arcturus**.
A thirty-four-year-old man at the **peak** of physical condition, one meter ninety of compact muscles developed through a decade of constant combat, **white** hair — not from age but from a rare genetic condition affecting his family for generations — cut militarily short, **blue** eyes like glacial ice shining with cold tactical intelligence, face marked by a thin scar crossing the left eyebrow to the cheek from a fight against a cultist that nearly killed him five years ago, perpetually **serious** expression of someone who never developed the capacity or interest in smiling.
He wore Explorer Knight armor — sky-blue with silver details — but **distinctly** more ornamented than standard, indicating **superior** rank within his own subdivision, three platinum stars engraved on the right shoulder marking **Captain** status of an elite squad.
He crossed the room in **exactly twenty-one steps** — the sacred number — stopping at the same position the previous trio had occupied.
Kneeled — fluid movement of an experienced warrior.
Bowed his head:
— Your Excellencies. — Grave, controlled voice without emotional inflection. — Captain Silvano Arcturus reporting completion of investigative mission in the **Kingdom of Thornvale**, border of the Great Magical Forest of the Central Continent.
---
Hadrian leaned **slightly** forward — genuine interest igniting:
— Proceed, Captain. And be… **thorough**. Thornvale has been… problematic in accepting the church's appropriate authority.
Silvano nodded — rising but maintaining formal posture:
— Confirmed, Your Excellency. The kingdom maintains official religious neutrality, refusing to establish a central church of Nellis despite consistent diplomatic pressure. But that is not why I come here with urgency.
Pause organizing information:
— During the investigation, I intercepted conversations from **two distinct groups** of adventurers emerging from the Great Forest. The first group consisted of individuals identified as **Finn** — mid-rank knight — and **Fog** — elemental mage. Both traumatized by their experience inside the forest.
Thaddeus's eyes **narrowed** — total attention focused.
— According to their reports… — Silvano continued — …the Great Forest was **infiltrated** by an organization calling itself the **Cult of Death**. Modus operandi: deceiving adventurers entering in search of valuable natural resources, capturing them through magical traps, and **offering** them as living sacrifices to the entity they worship.
Ezekiel **shuddered** visibly — genuine horror crossing his gentle face.
— **How many**? — Hadrian asked simply.
— Estimate based on indirect evidence: **minimum** forty adventurers missing in the last six months. — Silvano answered without hesitation. — Maximum… incalculable. The forest is vast. Bodies were not found.
**Heavy** silence like lead.
---
Then Hadrian spoke — voice emerging **cold**:
— The entity they worship. Describe it.
Silvano nodded:
— Finn reported a glimpse during escape. Description: eyeless entity — empty black ocular cavities. Skin **completely white** like corpse wax. Approximate height three meters. Presence inducing paralyzing terror even in experienced warriors.
Pause:
— There was… a **second** entity present according to testimony. Radically different appearance: hair **white** like freshly fallen snow. Eyes also **white** with no visible pupils. Wearing a white robe or dress. But eyes… according to Finn, the eyes were **green**. Vibrant green contrasting with the white of the rest.
---
**CLANG**.
Thaddeus **dropped** the water goblet he was holding — glass exploding against marble, water spreading.
He rose abruptly — movement so sudden the nearest guards **tensed** instinctively:
— **Impossible**. — Voice emerging hoarse. — Those characteristics are unmistakable. The **Nessira** people. But they were… they were **exterminated** three centuries ago! None should remain alive! And certainly not in the Central Continent where they never originally inhabited!
Ezekiel also rose — more slowly, controlled, but equally shocked:
— Thaddeus is right. Historical records are **clear**. The Nessiras were eradicated during the Purification of the Third Century after being declared heretics by the Sacred Council. Unless…
He looked at Hadrian:
— …unless the records are **incomplete**.
---
Hadrian remained seated — but hands **gripping** the throne arms with enough force to make the wood **creak**:
— Captain Silvano. — Voice dangerously calm. — Is there… **more**?
— Yes, Your Excellency. — Silvano confirmed. — Finn mentioned that he escaped with the help of a **group** that was also imprisoned by the cultists.
— Yes, Your Excellency. — Silvano confirmed. — Finn mentioned that he escaped with the help of a group that was also imprisoned by the cultists. A group composed of four individuals.
Dramatic pause:
— Names provided: Keara, Jelim, Dagon, and… Steve.
He drew a small notebook from his belt:
— Partial physical descriptions based on testimony: Keara — woman, brown hair, apparently a healer. Jelim — woman, wears a mask she never removes, telekinetic magical abilities. Dagon — man, older, extremely skilled warrior. Steve — young, abilities… not clearly defined but Finn insisted that Steve was different in a way he couldn't articulate.
He closed the notebook:
— The group separated from Finn and Fog after the escape. Current whereabouts: unknown.
Hadrian finally rose — slow, deliberate movement:
— Captain Silvano. — Voice emerging with absolute authority that accepted no questioning. — You will receive an immediate priority mission. You will return to the Kingdom of Thornvale. You will thoroughly investigate these four individuals. You will locate their current whereabouts. You will obtain information about any possible connection to the Nessiras.
Thaddeus interrupted:
— Thornvale refuses the church's authority. They will obstruct the investigation.
Hadrian turned his head — golden eyes fixing on Thaddeus:
— Then the Captain will do whatever is necessary to circumvent obstructions. — Tone making it clear that "necessary" had a broad definition. — But he will not return without the requested information. This is a maximum-priority cardinal order.
He looked at Silvano:
— And furthermore: locate these four. Bring them to Ellis. Alive and cooperative if possible. Alive only if necessary. Dead only as an absolute last resort if they represent an imminent threat. Understood?
Silvano struck fist to chest — military salute:
— Perfectly understood, Your Excellency. I will depart at dawn.
Hadrian nodded:
— No. You will depart now. Tonight. Every hour of delay is an hour in which they can disappear deeper into territories we do not control.
Then he added — voice becoming slightly softer but no less serious:
— As for Thornvale refusing the church's influence… — small, cold smile — …it is only a matter of time. The kingdom is surrounded by a forest infested with monsters and cultists. When they become desperate enough, they will accept the protection we offer. Everyone accepts eventually.
Significant pause:
— The Central Continent belongs to Goddess Nellis. Some kingdoms simply have not yet recognized this fact. But they will. Through voluntary conversion… or through necessity created by circumstances.
Silvano bowed — ninety degrees:
— It will be done, Your Excellency.
He turned — marching toward the exit with measured steps.
The doors opened.
Closed.
Leaving only the three cardinals alone once again.
Silence for ten full seconds.
Then Ezekiel spoke — voice trembling slightly:
— If the Nessiras truly survived… if they are alive after three centuries… — he swallowed hard — …what does this mean? For the church? For the faith? For… everything we have taught about the Purification being just and necessary?
Thaddeus turned — eyes burning with fanatical intensity:
— It means we failed to complete the sacred work three centuries ago. And we must correct this error before their heresy spreads again like a plague.
Hadrian raised a hand — silencing both:
— It means… — voice emerging careful, measured — …that there is much we do not know. And ignorance is a more dangerous enemy than any heretic.
He looked up at the vaulted ceiling:
— For now… we await Silvano's report. And we pray that the Goddess guides us through the storm that may be forming on the horizon.
He sat again:
— And we pray that we are wrong about the Nessiras. Because if we are right…
He did not finish.
He did not need to.
All three knew:
If the Nessiras had truly survived and were active again…
…the very foundations of the church could be questioned.
And questions lead to doubts.
And doubts lead to heresies.
And heresies lead to wars.
[STEVE: SEARCHING FOR NESSIRAS, UNAWARE THAT THE CHURCH IS HUNTING HIM]
[JÚLIA: OBEDIENT, UNAWARE OF THE CONSPIRACY]
[SILVANO: HUNTING, DETERMINED]
[CONVERGENCE: INEVITABLE AND DANGEROUS]