Inside an empty convent, after the induction ceremony for Cardinal Afon, a woman in her mid-twenties, Afon Coeden, and a wizened old man gathered. The light within the room was tinted red due to the stained-glass window depicting the deaths of the dragons from the creation story.

“Greetings, Princess Creirwy, Cardinal Purity. How can I serve you?” Afon Coeden asked. He had been invited by Cardinal Purity to meet him after his induction.

“There’s no need to be so formal, Cardinal Afon. We are all equals here, aren’t Creirwy?” Cardinal Purity chuckled, rubbing his grey beard. Despite his jovial attitude, his blue eyes were incredibly sharp, with a hint of coldness.

“Of course. We invited you here because we have some questions to ask of you, Afon. You must have heard by now the debate that has been simmering within the city for a while… Silly me, sorry you do know it. Everyone does. After all, the Pontiff himself gave his stand in it. What is your position: to summon God or not to summon God?” Former Princess Creirwy Helygen asked, her sapphire blue eyes glinting in the red light.

“To summon God. Pontiff Innocent is the apostle of God after all, far greater than we could ever be. It would be unwise to ignore his commands if we consider ourselves as disciples of God.” Afon responded without hesitation.

“Wonderful!” Cardinal Purity replied. “We had to ask you this question as, well, you have been quite noncommittal in the past as Arch-Bishop of Port.”

“I wait for the orders of the Pontiff to illuminate the way.” Afon Coeden bowed his head in prayer.

“Due to your stance on summoning God, have you considered joining the Scholars of Theurgy? Our interests surely align with yours, right?” Creirwy asked.

“What other goals do the Scholars of Theurgy have? I can’t decide to join you without knowing more of your objectives. Of course, other than summoning God that is.” Afon responded with a question of his own.

“We are an umbrella party, meaning we have many members with many ideas. Some of our main objectives are to implement freedom of religion; to break the stranglehold of Cymorth’s traditional power structure by implementing a meritocracy; religious reform; and finally, to summon God.” Creirwy answered honestly.

“They are some quite revolutionary ideas, almost radical.” Afon responded. ‘Lucien was wise to place a spy within the Church’s higher ups. These ideas are incredibly dangerous!’

“We have to be radical if society is to improve! We have stagnated for years now, and the source of the problem is those immovable, self-seeking, self-interested aristocrats. They have too much power and have sat on it, stifling our development.” Cardinal Purity spoke irately.

“Just look at Citadel! They have developed to extraordinary levels that can now threaten our nation with destruction. Part of the reason we have to summon God is to protect ourselves. We’ve become too weak and require God as a deterrent.” Creirwy interrupted.

“But what about Praeteritum? Why is Citadel a greater threat than them?” Afon asked, confused.

“Praeteritum is strong, yes. After all, they have the greatest Malevolency user, Khan Hardrada, in the world. However, Citadel have been developing a new kind of Malevolency that is just too evil. It is far more powerful than anything anyone has ever developed in history. Fortunately, they haven’t had enough time to develop it to a point where we wouldn’t be able to stop them.” Creirwy responded.

“I see…” Afon Coeden rubbed his chin. “I will join the Scholars of Theurgy. It seems to be absolutely necessary for our state security.”

“Fantastic. I’m glad that you have made the right decision. For country and religion.” Cardinal Purity applauded with pride.

“You will need to complete a ceremony for you to be inducted into the Scholars of Theurgy. Please stand underneath the painted ceiling. It is a mural to God. The ceremony will begin from there.” Creirwy pointed to where she wanted Afon to stand.

Afon stood under the painted ceiling, and he looked up at the mural. It depicted a man dressed in a black suite with a white shirt sitting on a simple wooden chair before a warrior in golden armour. The warrior held a cruel battle axe with a belt that contained the severed heads of innumerable foes.

They were inside an opulent room; the walls were made of oak wood and the floor was lined with a wine-coloured carpet. A silver curtain gently ballooned next to an open window, letting in the celestial radiance of the moonlight.

Afon Coeden’s vision blurred, the painting before him melted into a waxy, oil painting, losing its vividness. A short moment later, his vision restored to pristine condition, though he was no longer in the convent with Cardinal Purity and Creirwy.

He looked around the setting before him and saw movement in the corner of his eye. The man in a black suit had stood from his seat and was walking towards him. He had a jovial smile plastered on his face while his arms were crossed behind his back.

Afon looked to see if the golden plated warrior was moving like the man in the suit. However, he was frozen in position exactly like how he was in the painting. It created a bizarre, yet tense atmosphere as Afon couldn’t understand why he was in the painting’s world.

“Welcome, Afon Coeden! Congratulations on being chosen as our latest Cardinal. I am so happy that you are willing to join us as a member of the Scholars of Theurgy!” The man in the suit said.

“Who… Who are you?” Afon asked hesitantly. He had never seen Malevolency such as this before. He didn’t even think it was possible.

The man in suit tutted in response. “You haven’t been formally inducted into our organisation yet. You won’t find out until you are. I suppose to temporarily satiate your curiosity, you can call me ‘M’.”

“How did I get here? This isn’t the real world, right? This is a painting!” Afon demanded.

“I personally invited you here. This is one of my powers. I can inhabit paintings and sometimes I can invite others within. I required your presence here, and you accepted my invitation. That is how you got here.” M replied.

“How do I get back?”

“Obviously when I let you,” M deflected. “Anyways, this is beside the point and time is running short. Stay there for a moment, please.”

Roots burst through the room’s floor and snaked around Afon Coeden’s legs. Afon began to struggle, but it was no use. He was constrained in position.

“Let go of me!” Afon screamed.

M walked over to Afon and placed his hands onto his face. As his hands connected to Afon’s head, M’s illusion broke, and his true appearance was displayed.

His face was a shadowy gas that escaped from his collar. Various dark branches extended upwards from within the intangible gas, and two white orbs hung off two offshoots.

M’s right hand was similarly a withered branch, though it was closer to a bough, that extended from the suit’s sleeve. The left hand was covered by a white glove. It was solid, and whatever was inside was tangible.

Afon shrieked a harrowing scream. The horror that was in front of him was hideous. Something that should not exist in this world. Particularly not before God who was in the painting with him. It was a cruel irony.

M’s right hand grew. The branches extended towards Afon’s forehead, whereupon a dark liquid dripped onto his glabella. The liquid expanded to cover the whole of Afon’s face, as if it were a mask from a masquerade.

He gasped and air escaped from his lungs causing bubbles to rise on the liquid mask’s surface. M began to silently chant an incantation in response and a vivid scene began to play out in front of Afon’s eyes.

He stood alone within a field that had wilted. The grass wasn’t green, but a mixture of grey and brown due to disease that had scourged the land. In the distance, Afon Coeden saw the silhouette of a forest. He walked towards it.

The trees were stripped of their bark and leaves, their brittle insides torn to sawdust. Insects plagued the exposed wood. They crawled in and out of it, building colonies to protect their Queens who were reproducing.

Afon picked one up. It was an abnormally long centipede that was coal black in colour. It writhed within his fingers, until he dropped it to the ground as one of its unnatural antennae drew his blood in desperation.

As he walked through the forest, the wind carried voices to him from the distance. They were initially as light as whispers, just barely audible.

“Horyd… Caught… Treason on him… Afon, I need you…” The voice howled through the trees.

But as Afon walked deeper into the forest, they grew louder until he could hear what the voice said.

“Horyd has been caught, finally. He slipped up, and we can now pin treason on him. He admitted to several counts of heresy, which we have evidence for as well. Afon, I need you to prepare and compile all of the information ready for the trial. The King will not be happy if it is not airtight.” Afon recognised the voice, it was Lucien’s.

‘This conversation happened on the day of Horyd’s capture… Why can I hear it here?’ Afon wondered. His mind was not as sharp as it usually was. It seemed lethargic, but he couldn’t work out why.

“Cardinal Peace was assassinated last night. I am going to speak to King Brenin about nominating you as Peace’s replacement as the next Cardinal. Fortunately, it is the King’s turn to elect the next Cardinal, and it is high time for us to infiltrate the upper echelons of the Church. I would like you to feedback any important information you receive while going about your duties as the new Cardinal.” Lucien’s voice continued. The wind had transformed into a gale. It battered against the trees, threatening to tear them from the ground.

“It would be an honour, Master Lucien. Your servant is willing to complete any of your requests. Though this unworthy creature worries that it will not be up to your satisfaction.” A voice responded. It was Afon's own. He jumped in fright at this, he was certain he hadn’t spoken.

He whipped his head around towards the sound of an explosion. His pupils dilated in fear, yet he was unable to do more than stare dumbly. His mind had slowed to a stop. Lethargy had infiltrated and sabotaged his mental agility.

The trees surrounding Afon Coeden were torn from the ground, their roots ripping the soil to form seismic fractures. The gale had mutated, forming a cyclone that raged against the landscape.

From beneath the roots emerged something utterly harrowing. A beast of a tremendous magnitude forced its way to the surface. The soil fell from its body like a feral landslide. The wind howled in jubilation at its presence.

Rotting moss covered its flesh and keratin horns, curved like sabres, armed it. Mephitic vapours were puffed out from the apertures within its body forming clouds of green miasma.

Innumerable mouths formed from its grotesque body. Teeth and tentacles covered its abyssal maws. Fifteen shark eyes twitched uncontrollably, watching the world vacantly through pure instinct.

Afon shrieked a wretched cry. His vocal cords grated against each other, becoming hoarse to the point of physical damage. The initial lethargy began to transform into something more vile, more dangerous.

A mania began to seep its toxic roots throughout his mind, attacking his consciousness. Afon felt as if his perception of self was beginning to fade. He no longer identified with his personal experiences. He was losing autonomy over his own being.

“Stop.” The world shattered and the black mask popped into black ink. It dripped slowly down Afon’s face, onto the floor.

“I will not allow you to lose all of your sentience. We need you to be at least functional without too much of my intervention. You are too special for us to allow you to be succumbed to madness.” M smiled at Afon Coeden.

“We can’t waste your relationships with Lucien or King Brenin, either. That would be a tragedy. We will put you to work immediately.” The withered branch dripped another drop of that black liquid onto Afon’s forehead. It slowly dissipated into skin, leaving no trace.

Afon slumped to the floor, a crumpled puppet, as M withdrew his hands from his face. A shadow door appeared in space next to him, into the real world. It formed next to Cardinal Purity and Creirwy.

“Afon Coeden is staying with me for now. He was a spy sent by Lucien and is under my control.” M’s voice was received through the shadow door. Creirwy and Cardinal Purity nodded in response.

“It’s a shame that he couldn’t join our momentous enterprise voluntarily. But, he is now part of it anyway.” Cardinal Purity lamented.

“The same goes for Cymorth. They will be dragged kicking and screaming into the future whether they like it or not.” Creirwy responded.

“With Horyd Coeden’s death, all conversations of a civil war have been quelled. They have given us the upper hand, the ability to proceed without opposition or scrutiny. After all, Horyd’s execution is the greatest deterrent against attacks on Church’s power. The aristocracy’s attention has moved away from us from fear of reprisal."

"They’re more suspicious of conflict with Praeteritum now. King Brenin and Lucien think they can check our power with their spy; however, this will be the cause of their downfall. We will first destroy the Intelligence Service from within, then destroy Cymorth’s stability through a succession crisis. Our plans now line up with our prophecies. It is time to initiate them.” M spoke heavily.

Fireworks of excitement crackled within Creirwy’s eyes, while pride consumed Cardinal Purity.

“Your will shall be done, Mephistopheles.” They chanted in unison.