By morning, we were already near the grand staircase of the city’s enormous church. Catherine posed as my prisoner, and with the help of the townspeople I obtained a priest’s tunic as a disguise. Unfortunately, due to their basic level of organization, all deacons and priests knew each other, so we needed a distraction to enter the building. With Garvin’s help, we managed to create one, and little by little we approached the entrance, heading toward the dungeon located several levels beneath the church.

  — These ropes are too tight. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? — Catherine grumbled.

  — Maybe I am. — I replied, playing along.

  We looked at each other for a moment and laughed quietly at the absurdity of it all. It was our last lighthearted moment — soon after, we stepped into the great hall.

  The morning mass was underway, and the air carried a natural, oppressive seriousness. The priest stood with his back to hundreds of faithful, chanting in a completely unfamiliar language. Noticing my confusion, Catherine whispered:

  “It’s Latin.”

  My unease only grew. The atmosphere felt heavy on my shoulders. A massive statue held a staff wrapped with a serpent; a gigantic red cross was painted across the dome, alongside an image of a three-headed woman being attacked by knights bearing the same cross. Every detail deepened the mystery and my discomfort with that place.

  We moved on and reached the first underground level. This floor held those infected by the Plague. It was a scene of sorrow — rows of people in agony laid out on stretchers, attended by healers who radiated a very different energy from anyone I had seen before. As we passed, I noticed they placed their hands on the sick, and little by little the patients’ pain seemed to ease. I was curious, but there was no time for questions. We kept descending as fast as possible.

  The next level marked the beginning of the dungeon. Here, people seemed imprisoned for psychological reasons. Many screamed that they were fine, slammed their heads against iron bars, rocked their bodies, paced in circles — and in the worst cases stood like Garvin’s son, catatonic, staring forward without reaction.

  The second phase of the plan began there. We found and stole the floor key.

  At the lowest level, two guards appeared to be asleep. I untied Catherine, and with one strike each we put them down for a few hours. We searched the cells — and in one of them, there he was: Finder. His metal plates were scratched and dented, and he lay chained to heavy iron weights that prevented any movement.

  When I opened the cell, his expressionless face looked straight at me — like two friends reunited after years apart. The usually white glow of his eyes shifted to yellow, as if he were happy to see me. I reached out my hand, and he said:

  — Seems not even prison can stop you from following me.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  — Let’s go, my friend. — I answered with a smile.

  While I removed Finder’s chains, Catherine advanced the next phase of the plan. She began opening every cell, calling for revolt. She handed the keys to someone who appeared to be a leader among the prisoners and told him to free the others along the escape route.

  With the uprising underway, chaos spread — the perfect moment to escape alongside the prisoners. We blended into the crowd and climbed level after level as the scene turned into open battle. Church members drew swords and batons to halt the advance. Fighting to survive, we reached the staircase again, where Garvin stood distributing swords to anyone willing to fight for freedom.

  He looked at us and smiled — for the first time since we met. For a brief moment, his sorrowful expression vanished, and the philosopher within him resurfaced.

  The square before the church had become a battlefield. While many faithful defended the Church, others fought for the first time to break their chains. In the midst of the chaos, however, an overwhelming aura descended upon the entire area. The pressure froze everyone in place. I could barely move.

  From among the crowd emerged a tall, heavily built man wearing a vast white robe marked with a red cross across the chest. The word Justice was inscribed on his mantle, and he carried a great Bible in one hand.

  — Oh sinners, you have brought death upon these poor innocents. I am the hammer of God — I will grant forgiveness to your souls. — declared the giant.

  He drew a small hammer from his belt. As he raised it, it began to grow, expanding as blinding light spread across the square. Those holding weapons against the Church watched as the light took the shape of hammers — and from the heavens they fell, crushing the rebels one by one.

  Everyone else collapsed unconscious under the force of the radiance. The bloodshed spread across the plaza. From a distance, I saw Garvin in his final moments, brutally crushed, and my heart ached at the sight.

  — What is Archbishop Preston doing here? Damn it — there’s no way we can escape. — Catherine said, her face tense with fear.

  Tears ran down the Archbishop’s face as he turned toward the three of us with stern disapproval. Lowering his hammer, he spoke:

  — So it is you who brought sin upon these men, Catherine? Your father would not wish to see you in a place like this. You are coming back with me.

  — I don’t know who you are, but I think you’ve noticed she’s not interested in going with you. — I answered, stepping between them with Finder.

  — Then you too have corrupted these poor souls. I shall grant you eternal rest as well. Only then will you be free of sin.

  His hammer manifested above our heads. At the moment of fatal impact, black flames erupted and began to burn it away. When I looked back, Catherine stood holding a staff wreathed in those same dark flames. Small black embers flickered from the tips of her hair.

  With a far more serious expression, Preston said:

  — Do you also wish to be punished, child?

  His hammer grew again until it matched his own size and moved toward us. With a slight sideways swing, he struck Finder and hurled him far away. In the next swing, Catherine blocked the blow with her staff, absorbing the impact. Her flames tried to consume the weapon, but the light radiating from it extinguished her fire. With her power suppressed, she was struck and thrown aside, falling instantly.

  In the midst of the clash, I realized how weak I truly was — how powerless before everyone there. Since awakening on that mysterious campus, others had saved me again and again, and all of them now seemed destined for misery because of it.

  Hatred swelled inside me as the Archbishop approached for the final blow. In those last seconds, something rose from within me. All my bitterness burst outward as raw energy.

  The last thing I remember was the hammer — and the Archbishop’s arm — disintegrating as I closed my eyes.