"That's quite an interesting view of religion," Aeron said, a smile appearing on his face. It was faint, but it softened him, eased the usual distance in his expression.
Veldra noticed and allowed himself a small smile in return, though the thought lingered: I might have to kill this man soon. What if Aeron is a good man? What if he is a bad one? Is he a blind servant of faith, or does he follow his own reasons, his own values, his own twisted sense of morality? Veldra pondered it carefully.
And then another thought pressed itself into his mind. Let it all come. Let fate weave its web, let the possibilities unfold. If I have to kill him, so be it. But if I do not… then I will leave fate a gift.
He let the thought go, letting the currents of destiny flow where they would.
"And what about you?" Veldra asked, leaning slightly closer with a subtle nudge. "What do you think about religion?"
"Religion… what is it but chains woven from promises no one will ever keep? I speak the prayers, bow in the halls, carry the symbols, and yet my god does not care. I do not care. And still, I move, still I follow, because that is what I am, what I must be. Faith is a parasite, and I am its host. I feed it obedience, but it will never nourish me. I wonder sometimes if my god smiles, or if it even notices at all, while I march, hollow, reciting words that rot on my tongue.
Do I serve, or does service serve me? Am I the vessel, or is the vessel only a joke? Perhaps one day my god will demand something from me I cannot give, and then I will laugh, quietly, softly, in a way that no one will hear. Perhaps that is the only truth in all this madness, the only pleasure. I will obey. I will not obey. I will exist, and the god will wait, waiting, waiting, as empty as I am." Aeron spoke.
"Maybe, and maybe not," Veldra said, his voice low, measured, but carrying an edge of something deeper, "but I know this: a man must have his morals, his values. Whatever god exists should praise him for that. A man of blind faith is the most dangerous creature in the world." His eyes gleamed with an understanding not often spoken, as if he had seen the fractures and shadows that lurked behind unquestioning devotion.
Aeron's golden eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched at his sides, trembling with a restrained intensity. "Indeed. That is true, and perhaps I am such a man, a man of blind faith and blind action. But who lifts me from this bondage? My family sold me to the streets. The humans I encountered, hearts pulsing with emotion, stepped on me as though I were nothing, their eyes reflecting sin, disgust, pity, and irredeemable immorality. I do not need warnings about the dangers of this world. I have felt them. I have lived them. I have been consumed by them."
A single, almost imperceptible tear brushed Lucien's cheek, catching the light like molten gold, but Aeron did not notice. He stared straight ahead, his voice tightening with a brittle edge. "In both worlds, I was condemned. So yes, perhaps I am a man of blind faith, a man of desperate hope clinging to a church, a god, as though they are the last anchors to a collapsing world. But perhaps… perhaps someone can help cleanse me of this misery. Perhaps… just perhaps."
He did not turn his eyes. He just stared towards his path, his path of misery and corruption. The unyielding thought of it all crowned itself on him with unbearable weight. All of it was the path of uncertainty.
Veldra felt it immediately. This man was not merely human. An outerworlder, no doubt, and a high-ranking figure within this church. The revelation should have steeled him, sharpened the edge of his intent. And yet… a small, strange quench filled his chest. A flicker of sorrow, or was it pity? Perhaps it did not matter. It was real, and it was insistent. If he were to end this man's life, he would end it swiftly, and perhaps mercifully, before fate, or the god within him, could continue to twist him further.
The question remained: what rank did he truly hold? Was this man indeed the target I have to destroy? And if so, may I give him death without delay, clean and quick.
They continued to walk, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken truths and unclaimed power. With every step, the air seemed to thin, the pressure of inevitability easing just slightly, allowing a fragile breath of calm to settle over them. Yet beneath it all, the hum of madness lingered, subtle, constant, like a pulse beneath the skin.
After some time, they came to a halt. Faint smiles tugged at their lips, masks of civility and observation, as they turned to face what lay before them.
A towering church rose before Veldra, white in splendour yet alive with green, as if nature itself had claimed it. Arched glass windows caught the sun and scattered light across its walls, illuminating every vine that clung to its form and every flower that had sprung from the ground around it. Silence draped the structure, but atop the roof, a pole bore a symbol: a man crowned, holding a seed in one hand and a mantle in the other. It was a symbol of growth, of decay, of cycles that would not end.
"This is the Church of Growth, Seeds, and Decay," Aeron said, his hand sweeping toward the massive edifice as though it were both a monument and a warning.
They pushed open the glass doors, etched with symbols and runes that seemed to hum faintly beneath Veldra's gaze. Inside, candles flickered along the sides, their light trembling over rows of chairs. A carpet ran down the centre, dividing the chamber into two. At the far end, an altar rose, stark and immovable, a podium resting upon it with a book that seemed almost alive in its stillness.
Aeron strode forward, past the worshippers seated in reverent silence. At his approach, they paused, their heads bowing as if pulled by some invisible thread, eyes fixed downward in perfect obedience. He moved with deliberate grace, each step carrying authority and unspoken menace, until he knelt at the altar.
"Lord of Decay, Growth, and Seed," he intoned, his voice low and steady, yet vibrating with an undercurrent that felt almost alive. "Bless us with your power and allow us to raise our county to its rightful state. Let no force overcome us. In Urfuros' name. Namen."
Veldra's lips tightened. Disgust coiled in his chest. Is this how deep his bondage goes? He thought, his eyes returning to that cold, indifferent void he carried like armour. A man could bend, break, and kneel in devotion, and yet remain a vessel of something terrible, and perhaps, unknowable.
Aeron's prayer ceased. He rose and turned slowly, golden eyes meeting Veldra's. There was a gleam in them now, sharp and wild, a trace of something unspoken, almost dangerous.
"Don't just stand there," he said, his smile faint, almost inviting, "come join us."