Though it had been rebuilt, the building that used to be the Aeternum Nocturne Cathedral still bore the scars left by the Ashen Nights.

Valen could almost smell the alcohol-tinted smoke that filled the air as the eternal night sky burned orange.

The centuries old stone walls were charred black around the small windows where molotov cocktails had been thrown inside, one of the two cone tipped towers was missing its cone, and several flying buttresses were damaged or missing on the left side where the fire started.

But by some miracle of the gods or sheer dumb luck, the cathedral’s most distinctive feature, a gigantic stained glass window right above the front entrance, had survived the Ashen Nights more or less unscathed.

It depicted the Divine Mother’s white face looking down at the pious with mournful eyes crying bloody tears that filled the dark blue void around her with rivers of red.

A white sign significantly newer than everything else reading “Stillheart Hospice'' in bold red letters was the only indication that the place was no longer a cathedral.

“Valen, no offence,” said Enid, looking the Divine Mother straight in her empty black eyes, “but this place looks creepy as shit.”

“Yeah,” said Louise. “I’m going to have to agree with thunder tits on this one. I feel like she’s staring into my soul.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Valen. “You two should know that quite well.”

While the main cathedral had been converted into a hospice and was closed to anyone without an appointment, the sizable chapel attached to its side remained open to the public as a place of worship.

While Valen would’ve liked to see the hospice itself, the person who answered when he called the number on Vivian’s card told him that they weren’t available for tours yet and suggested attending a chapel service hosted by some of the staff members instead. Not ideal, but he thought seeing the people who’ll be taking care of his sister soon could help ease his worries a bit.

If nothing else, he also hoped listening to one of the sermons Vivian loved so much could help him find some peace with her inevitable death.

He made for the chapel with Enid and Louise at his sides. Enid had agreed to join him when he told her he wanted to stop there on his way out of the Nocturnal District. Louise asked to tag along, to which he agreed despite Enid's chagrin.

A wave of magical static engulfed Valen the moment he stepped through the arched chapel doors. It felt similar to when he stood beside Enid as she casted her spell, but in the same way in which a taser was similar to an electric chair. Less like pins and needles against his skin and more like a vibrating blanket of invisible energy wrapped around him.

Enid took a reflexive step back as soon as she entered. As a pure mage, her sensitivity to magic was far stronger than what Valen had. Whatever he felt, she must’ve felt a dozenfold.

“Ah, sorry about that,” said Valen. “I’d completely forgotten that this place was built on a ley node.”

“It’s fine,” Enid said, stepping back into the cathedral. “I just haven’t felt magic this strong in a while.”

Louise looked at both of them like they had four collective heads. “What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” said Enid with a dismissive wave.

Valen cleared his throat before Louise could respond with an insult.

“A ley node is a place of power,” he explained. “It’s where magical ley lines intersect to create areas with a high magical concentration. This cathedral was built on one.”

“Okay? What’s the point of it though?”

“Spells casted in ley nodes are more powerful,” Valen continued. “Back in the Age of Gods they built places of worship like this one on ley nodes so they could summon the gods or ask them for boons before battle.”

“Oh, I see.” Louise kept talking to him but looked at Enid as she did. “Thank you for answering my question, Valen. That was super easy to understand and didn’t sound hard to do at all!”

Enid glared down at the tiny white werewolf. “Being in a ley node also means I can fry your arse extra crispy if I wanted to too.”

“Guys.” Valen cast them both a disapproving frown. “I know you two aren’t very religious. I’m not either. But this is still holy ground that’s important to a lot of people and you both ought to show it some reverence.”

Enid turned her gaze to the ground. “Fine.”

Louise did the same. “I guess.”

“Lovely.” Valen flipped his frown into a soft smile. “Now let’s go find ourselves a seat.”

They walked along the aisle looking for a pew empty enough for all three of them to sit on.

Meanwhile half a dozen Stillheart Hospice staff scrambled about the pulpit in preparation for the high priest’s arrival. An enormous shrine to the Divine Mother wreathed in white linen and red velvet stood proud behind the podium, her crying face gazing down at the attendants with the same intensity she did from the stained glass window outside.

The service was scheduled to start soon, and most of the seats had already been taken up. Most of them were humans or nocturnal races like vampires and drows, but there were some unusual faces like high elves and dwarves mixed in there as well.

Several people had black vein marks crawling up their necks-early symptoms of the Divine Plague. Valen guessed they were like his sister, trying to find some spiritual comfort in the words of the gods before they’re forced to meet them.

“Oy, mate!” called a male voice from behind Valen. “Got some seats for yer and tah missuses right ‘ere.”

He turned around to see a drow bloke sitting on a pew with just enough space for two people and one Louise.

“Much obliged, sir.” Valen crab-walked sideways in the narrow gap between pews.

He sat down beside the drow and Enid seated herself beside him, pressing her shoulder tight against his to make room for Louise to plop herself on the very end of the pew with one furry leg sticking out the aisle.

“First time ‘ere mate?” the drow asked. He had greyish purple skin that was rare but not unheard of among drows, messy neck-length white hair, and piercing lilac eyes that shared the smile on his lips.

“No, but it’s my first time in a while.” Valen tilted his head towards Enid and Louise. “It’s their first time here, though.”

Louise raised one hand in a casual wave. “Heyo.”

“Hi,” said Enid.

“Ah, I see,” said the drow. “You lot usually attend chapel?”

“No, not really,” said Valen. “I’m a Sanguinist but non-practising and these two aren’t particularly religious.”

“I’m just here for the good vibes,” said Louise.

“And I’m here because he’s here,” said Enid, nudging Valen’s shoulder.

The drow nodded in approval.

“I get ya. ya don’t need tah be religious to enjoy tah culture.” The drow put his arm around the shoulder of a blonde human woman beside him, who didn’t shrink away from his touch. “I ain’t that religious meself. Me girlfriend ‘ere ain’t either. But there's still comfort to be found in a place like this durin’ tough times.”

“That’s a lovely way to look at it.” Valen smiled at the human girlfriend with lips closed to not show any teeth. “I do hope you enjoy your time here.”

“Thanks,” said the human woman, looking away from him the moment his red eyes met her baby blues. She adjusted the white scarf around her neck and slid as far away from him as she could on the crowded pew.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Even her boyfriend let out a nervous chuckle when he felt her edge away under his arm.

Valen was content to ignore it and Enid’s lips only twisted into a frown. Louise was the one to speak up.

“Oy, you got something to say mate?” said Louise.

Valen spoke up before the situation could escalate, as it often did with Louise around.

“It’s my fault. I must’ve looked at her for a bit too long. My apologies, she has very striking-” Valen racked his mind for some innocuous trait to compliment her on that instant. “-eyes.”

Louise rolled her eyes but thankfully decided to keep quiet. Enid looked at her with what appeared to be newfound respect in her eyes.

“That she does!” The drow boyfriend smiled, glad to move on from the awkward moment. He looked at Enid with admirable dedication to eye contact before averting his gaze back to Valen. “Yer missus’s quite tah catch too if ya don’t mind me say’in.”

“Thank you, but we’re just friends,” said Valen. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“What ‘bout the werewolf lass?”

“Also just friends,” said Valen. “I’ve known her for longer than almost anyone.”

The drow looked at Louise, then at Enid, and back at Valen again. He beckoned him closer with two fingers. Valen leaned towards him and allowed the drow to whisper in his ear.

“I’d shoot my shot with one of them if I were you mate,” he whispered.

Valen was about to respond when the sound of heavy wooden doors crashing open drew everyone to attention.

The arched wooden door connecting the chapel to the main cathedral closed off to anyone not part of the hospice had flung open. A hot savoury aroma wafted from it into the chapel, filling it with the same smell as an open steakhouse.

“Yo, something smells good!” said Louise, licking her lips.

Two priestesses in red and white habits holding an oversized tray of uncut roasted meat between them walked through the doors a second later.

“Roasted meat is a common offering in Sanguinism,” Valen explained. “Rare to medium rare meat is placed on a shrine for the Divine Mother to partake in the blood within while it’s cooling. Afterwards it’s sliced up and shared among the congregation in communion. It’s the Sanguinist way of connecting with the gods-by sharing a meal with them.”

Louise watched the giant slab of meat be placed upon the Divine Mother’s Shrine. “You know, if you told me about this when we were kids I’d have converted ages ago.”

“What kind of meat is it?” Enid asked.

“It should be beef,” said Valen, “I can’t speak for the taste or quality though. They’ve used leftover cuts from local butcheries before in desperate times.”

“Hells, I ain’t picky,” said Louise with a shrug. “When do we get to eat?”

“After the sermon. The cathedral’s high priest should be here soon.”

As soon as he said it, a man of the cloth entered the chapel from the main cathedral. His long scarlet robes obscured his feet and dragged along the stone floor as he moved, making it almost seem as if he was gliding through the hallowed ground. He wore black-eyed white mask not unlike the Divine Mother’s face with the bottom half cut out, revealing his chiselled jaw and pale complexion.

“What’s with the creepy mask?” Enid asked, her voice only slightly more hushed than usual.

“It’s part of the high priest’s uniform,” Valen explained. “They hide their faces during sermons so that their identity and race remains hidden. It’s supposed to symbolise how physical appearance and race doesn’t matter when worshipping the Divine Mother.”

“Shouldn’t he wear a full mask then?” asked Louise. “I mean, if the skin on his jaw’s green then I can be pretty damn sure that he’s an orc.”

“They used to wear full masks,” said Valen, “but had to cut out the bottom half because people had a hard time understanding what they were saying.”

The high priest floated up the pulpit stairs, his robes flowing up each ancient wooden step. When he stopped behind the podium, everyone save for a few irrelevant newcomers ceased their chattering to focus their attention on him.

A hundred eyes looked into the black eyes of his mask which stared back into their souls.

Valen felt a chill run down his spine that he couldn’t quite explain. Something about the high priest felt off.

Valen had been to services at Aeternum Nocturne Cathedral before, and though he could not remember much of it, he always remembered the high priest in charge to be a personable chap who walked in a casual, almost bumbling stride that endeared him to the congregation he often made smalltalk with before and after sermons.

Whoever the high priest in the chapel tonight was, it wasn’t the same one he remembered from his childhood.

The way he moved was far too precise. Almost mechanical in its grace. As if he’d practised his movements hundreds of times to perfect its unnatural elegance.

“My brothers and sisters,” the high priest spoke in a deep voice like rolling thunder. Loud and clear but not quite booming, with just enough presence to command the respect of the entire chapel. “My name is Brother Byron. I offer my deepest gratitude to you for coming here tonight as we bathe in the glory of our creator.”

He wandered away from the podium without his voice becoming any less powerful. Valen guessed he must’ve had a microphone tucked somewhere around his robe collar.

“Ten years ago, a rabble of thugs who had strayed from our creator’s grace almost burned this sacred sanctum to the ground out of mortal hatred without cause. And yet here we are to spread divine love sent by the highest among the gods. And here you are, to receive it.”

Many parishioners looked down at their laps. Their watery eyes told a story of survival and tragedy during the Ashen Nights that still haunted them long after the city forgot.

Valen felt his own buried memories claw their way back into his mind.

Angry voices within a sea of flames, drowned out by dying screams. The smell of blood and burnt flesh filling his nostrils. The sight of his mother’s burning body collapsing into ash when she hit the ground.

Enid placed her hand over his. Her touch brought him back to the present. Valen averted his gaze away from Brother Byron on the pulpit to look at her.

Though her eyes were icy blue, he felt a familiar warmth from them. She could never understand what it was like to be a street rat struggling to get by each night under a sunless sky, and Valen couldn’t imagine the kind of lonely life she must’ve led as an heiress trapped in a gilded cage. The best either of them could do was try to understand, but that alone meant the world to him.

Enid rested her head on his shoulder without saying a word. She didn’t have to. Her presence was comfort enough.

Brother Byron continued his sermon, pacing back and forth on the pulpit as he did to look every parishioner in the eye, though the black eye pits on his mask were lacking in warmth-or anything emotion to speak of for that matter.

“When the world was young, the Divine Mother and Father descended from the heavenly realms to walk the mortal plane. They wished to turn it into a utopia where they could raise their family in a world of absolute perfection. But even today after countless lifetimes, their glorious vision for this sad world of ours has yet to be realised.”

Valen had heard it all before. While most religions focused on worshipping one or more of the fourteen gods, Sanguinism emphasised the worship of the Divine Parents above all others. The Divine Mother’s tragic sacrifice in particular was given special emphasis.

The Divine Parents’ plans for utopia had shattered when the Divine Mother miscarried her first child in the mortal plane.

How or why it happened is a matter of debate. Not that it mattered. The result was all the same.

The blood of the Divine Mother, mixed with that of the Unborn God inside her, flowed into the oceans and became the primordial soup from which all life formed. In a futile attempt to save their child, the Divine Father imbued the blood with a fraction of his power in hopes that they would heal.

Instead he only caused some slightly advanced apes that later spawned from the primordial blood to be born a little smarter than the rest. Over time that tiny spark of divinity within their consciousness evolved into sapience that brought them closer to the gods than all the beasts that shared their world. And thus humans, the first of all races and the template from which all others are crafted, came to be.

Almost every other sapient race were humans once, before being chosen and shaped into different forms by one of the fourteen gods the Divine Mother later gave birth to.

Brother Byron recounted much of the same story to the congregation. Valen wanted to zone out of the sermon, but the subtle power in the high priest’s presence kept his mind from drifting off.

“Our world today is a faithless one,” Brother Byron continued, “and who can blame it? The fourteen gods whom they’d placed their faith in have left us to fend for ourselves in a world without mercy for the meek.”

He paused for dramatic effect. His empty black eyes scanned through the captivated crowd that could not read his gaze.

“But even in our abandonment, traces of the divine remain with us still.” He descended the pulpit stairs on soundless steps and drifted across the aisle, the empty eyes of his mask wandering through the crowd until settling on Valen’s row. “The miss in the white scarf, would you mind standing up for me?”

The human woman gave her drow boyfriend a hesitant look, only standing up when he gave her an encouraging nod.

“May I have your name, miss?” Brother Byron asked in a voice much softer and sweeter than the one he used up on the pulpit.

“Emily,” the human woman said. “Sorry, but I’m kind of new to places like this.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Emily. You’re among friends here.” He beckoned her out onto the aisle with his hand. “Can you please come over here for a moment?”

Emily walked sideways onto the aisle. Valen had to curl his legs out of the way for her.

“Tell me, Emily, what do you do for a living?” Brother Byron asked.

“I work for Flamel Corp,” she said with a hint of pride, “in the marketing department.”

“My my! You must be quite talented to have such a position. Tell me, is it hard working for such a prestigious company?”

Emily’s initial tension melted away and she smiled at his compliment.

“Sometimes, but I always try my best.”

“That’s all any of us can do, my dear.” Brother Byron put a hand on her back and turned to address the crowd. “My brothers and sisters, please take a good look at Emily. She seems like a fine young woman, does she not? Smart, beautiful, and with a very handsome partner it seems.”

He spared Emily’s boyfriend a playful smile. A wave of soft chuckles went through the crowd, and the drow smiled back at all of them.

“If all were right with the world, she’d be able to live a long and peaceful life and retire at an age where she can enjoy the fruits of her labour at Flamel Corp.” The smile faded from his face, and he removed his hand from her back. “But unfortunately, not all is right in this world.” He turned his attention back to Emily, whose smile had disappeared as well. “Emily. Can you please remove that scarf for us?”

The drow boyfriend suddenly stood up.

“Sorry, but I don’t think-”

Emily cut him off before he could finish.

“It’s fine, Oskar.” She pulled off her white scarf. “It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

A hundred dejected sighs filled the chapel. Valen felt his own heart sink at the sight as well.

Her scarf had hidden black vein marks that were already creeping up her neck. The Divine Plague had infected her too.

“I said before that traces of the divine remain in our world,” said Brother Byron. “Now please, allow me to prove it to you with a miracle given unto us in our abandonment by the gods.”

He glided back up the pulpit towards the shrine to the Divine Mother. When he reached the top, looking down upon the downhearted congregation before him, he beckoned for Emily with his hand once more.

She followed in silence without him having to say a word.

Brother Byron produced a long golden knife from the sleeve of his robe and cut into the offering of roasted meat that had been placed on the shrine. He carved out a paper-thin slice and skewered it on the tip of the knife’s blade.

“With the consumption of this flesh,” he handed Emily the knife with the sliced meat still on the tip, “you grow closer to what little divinity is left in our world.”

Emily gingerly took the knife from his hand.

“You want me to eat this?” she asked, sniffing the meat.

“It is our way of communion with the gods,” Brother Byron explained. “You can pick the meat out with your hand if you’re worried about the blade.”

Emily did just that and tucked the sliced flesh in her mouth. She gave it a quick chew and swallowed it.

“Tastes surprisingly good,” she said. “What is it-”

She doubled over before she could finish. Her face twisted in pain as her hands clutched her stomach.

Valen and many other members of the congregation shot up to their feet. He nearly fell when her boyfriend Oskar pushed past him to get to her.

“Emily!” Oskar yelled. He caught her just as she was about to fall off the pulpit. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Emily slowly rose to her feet. “I feel fine. Better than fine, actually.” Her hunched back straightened and she looked out into the crowd. Valen could’ve sword he saw a golden sheen in her eyes. “In fact, I feel amazing!”

A sign of relief spread across the chapel. People returned to their seats only to fall out of them when they saw what happened next. Valen’s eyes widened as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing.

Before the eyes of the entire congregation, the black vein marks caused by the Divine Plague on Emily’s neck turned faint before fading away completely, leaving only smooth pink skin where it once was.

Emily herself pulled out her collar and looked down at the spotless skin on her chest and shoulders in disbelief. Her baby blue eyes welled up in tears and she let them all out on Oskar’s shoulder as he cradled her in stunned silence, his own eyes turning watery in relief.

“Brothers and sisters,” Brother Byron said to the dumbfounded congregation. “I present to you a miracle of our God.”