Night had deepened.
The church corridors were quiet—too quiet.
Seraphina walked alone, her steps slow, measured, echoing softly against the stone walls. The faint glow of candlelight stretched shadows along the corridor, distorting shapes into something almost alive.
She felt it before she saw it.
A presence.
Not close enough to touch—
But close enough to watch.
Her pace didn't change.
Her breathing remained steady.
Her expression calm.
But her mind?
Sharp.
Someone's following me.
She turned a corner casually, letting her fingers trail lightly along the wall as if lost in thought.
Behind her—
The shadow followed.
Closer now.
Good.
Seraphina's eyes flicked briefly toward a narrow passage ahead—a dead end, rarely used, dimly lit.
Perfect.
She walked into it without hesitation.
The footsteps behind her quickened—just slightly.
He thinks I don't know.
The moment she reached the end—
She stopped.
Silence.
A breath.
And then—
She moved.
Fast.
Spinning sharply, she lunged forward, grabbing the figure by the collar and slamming him hard against the wall.
The impact echoed.
Before he could react, she twisted his arm behind him and forced him down to the ground, her knee pressing firmly into his back.
A grunt escaped him.
"Don't move," she said coldly.
But he struggled.
Not wildly—
But with enough skill to tell her—
He wasn't ordinary.
He twisted sharply, attempting to break her hold—
Seraphina shifted instantly, locking him down again, this time harder, her grip precise and controlled.
"Who sent you?" she demanded.
No answer.
Her eyes narrowed.
Fine.
She reached for his sleeve—
And tore it back.
There it was.
The tattoo.
The face of a tiger.
Her grip tightened.
"Got you," she whispered.
But then—
The moonlight shifted.
Fell across his face.
And Seraphina froze.
"…You?"
It didn't make sense.
Pinned beneath her—
Was Brother Lucien.
The quiet one.
Soft-spoken.
Gentle.
The priest who helped children with their readings.
The one who smiled easily.
The one no one would ever suspect.
"…You're…" Seraphina's voice faltered slightly, "…one of them?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
His breathing was uneven—not from fear
But from being caught.
"…You're stronger than you look," he muttered.
Her knee pressed harder into his back.
"Answer me."
A pause.
Then—
"…Yes."
The word settled heavily between them.
Seraphina's grip didn't loosen.
"Where is it?" she asked coldly. "The item. You have it, don't you?"
Lucien let out a quiet breath.
"…Not on me."
"Then where?"
Silence.
Her patience snapped slightly—she grabbed his collar, pulling him up just enough to meet her gaze.
"Don't test me."
Their eyes locked.
And for a moment—
The kind, gentle priest disappeared.
Replaced by something colder.
"…It's hidden beneath the church," he said finally. "…In a place older than the current structure. A sealed chamber."
Seraphina's heart skipped.
Beneath.
She was right.
"Where exactly?" she pressed.
"…There's an entrance in the lower archives," he replied. "Behind a false shelf. You won't find it unless you know what to look for."
Her mind raced, piecing everything together.
Finally.
Progress.
But then—
She asked the question that mattered most.
"…Matteo Virelli," she said slowly. "Who is he?"
Lucien went still.
Completely still.
His expression shifted—
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something else.
Recognition.
And then—
Silence.
"…Answer me," Seraphina demanded.
But he didn't.
Didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just… stared.
Like the name itself carried weight.
Like it wasn't meant to be said aloud.
And then—
A gunshot echoed through the night.
Both of them froze.
Closer.
Lucien's head snapped toward the direction of the sound.
"…looks like i won," he muttered under his breath, with a smirk on his face.
Seraphina's grip tightened.
"What is it?" she demanded.
His voice came mocking now.
"…They've found him."
Her heart dropped.
"…Who?"
Lucien met her gaze.
"…Your priest."
Everything inside her stilled.
"…Adrian?"
Lucien nodded quickly, tension now visible in his expression.
"My men—they must have cornered him."
Seraphina's breath hitched.
And in that split second—
Emotion broke through her control.
Her grip loosened.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Lucien moved instantly.
Twisting out of her hold, shoving her back just enough to break free.
He staggered to his feet, already backing away.
"I can't stay," he said quickly. "If they kill him, everything changes."
"Wait—!" she stepped forward—
But he was already gone.
Vanishing into the shadows.
Leaving her alone.
Frozen.
Because the gunshots hadn't stopped echoing in her mind.
And for the first time—
Fear wasn't about her mission.
It wasn't about the war.
It wasn't about the church.
It was about him.