"Heavenly Father, thank you for the gift of life and the honor of serving in your name. I am humbled by the opportunity to be a guiding light in this world of shadows. Yet, Father, I seek your guidance. I know I am invincible with you by my side, but lately, I feel adrift. My blessings seem to diminish, and I fear I may have strayed from your path. If I have sinned, I repent and pray for your forgiveness, just as I forgive those who trespass against me.
The weight of the months passed presses on me. Lord, is it the toll of time, the weariness that centuries might bring to a mortal soul? Grant me strength to thwart the impending evil or lead me to a worthy successor. I beseech you in the name of your son, amen."
Rising from my knees, I brushed the dust from my clergy robes and reverently kissed the cross hanging around my neck. While anointed as a paladin of the highest order, I remained, first and foremost, Mother Abbess. It was a duty I took seriously, setting an example for my sisters. Even Chief Paladin Eugenio Cruz valued my counsel. However, uncertainty lingered about my connection with God. It felt strained, as if on the verge of severance. Perhaps, in my mortality, I mirrored the questioning nature of our Lord Jesus, who, nearing death, asked why he felt forsaken. Yet, I was not sacrificing myself for the sins of others, so the comparison seemed imperfect. Could it be the inherent nature of humanity to question and seek reassurance even in the face of divine purpose?
I would not fathom the enigmas I sought by lingering in contemplation. At this juncture, my prayers must stand as a solitary beacon of solace in my pursuit of tangible answers.
"Brother Osei, any tidings regarding the Necros cult?" My inquiry resonated through the communication orb, each word reverberating with the weight of anticipation. The subsequent silence stretched time into an uneasy suspension, an unspoken desire lingering for the mechanical acknowledgment of my message.
"Sister Guan, updates on the Necros cult?" Once again, the void swallowed my words, offering no immediate response.
"Brother Vescaro, any news on the Necros cult or your team?" The air absorbed my words, leaving them unanswered. Perhaps they were engrossed in their tasks or grappling with the mournful aftermath of Martin's demise. A mere fortnight had elapsed, a fleeting moment, and while they were adept at confronting the malevolent forces in the shadows, facing a fiendish knight left few unscathed, save for the master inquisitors. The resilience of one's mental fortitude against such demonic encounters formed a precarious boundary.
Redirecting my steps toward the abbey, I aimed to rendezvous with young Elizabeth Vescaro. The Church had nurtured her for seven years, and her proficiency in miracles marked her as an exceptional devotee. Despite her youth restraining her from formal vows, Elizabeth fervently yearned to deepen her commitment to God. Immersed in prayer and scripture, she wielded the power to perform miracles of the first order, a remarkable testament to her dedication at the young age of eleven.
"Dame Ménard, how are you today?" Her words fluttered with a warm, elevating smile accentuated by a delicate red rose adorning her hair. The stark contrast between her disposition and Indo's stoic demeanor was a puzzle—one that cast her closer to Guan's likeness. Perhaps that was why she and Guan got along so well. This certainly played a role in deepening the relationship between the young couple.
"I am well, dear. Thank you for asking. Have you seen your brother today? Perhaps you know where he is?" I posed the question with a tinge of hope, seeking a link to Indo's current whereabouts.
"I actually saw him this morning. He wanted to spend some time with me before he went to speak with the Bishop. We had a nice little prayer and study session and went for a walk in the garden." Her voice carried a spirited excitement, a testament to her admiration for her brother and the precious moments they shared.
"The Bishop? Aubemont, I presume?" I sought clarification, a slight furrow creasing my brow.
"Yes, the gentleman who took us in after the incident with my father." Her recollection was veiled by the narrative woven by Aubemont, a tale fabricated to protect the bond between Indo and his sister. According to this version, her father succumbed to demonic possession and perished during an exorcism. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, the truth was far grimmer—Indo, in an act of desperate protection, ended his father's life to prevent a heinous act against the then four-year-old girl. The burdens of Indo's harsh past, marked by the malevolent touch of his father, had fueled this drastic measure.
I remained silent on the matter, recognizing the delicacy of the truth. To unravel the lie spun by the Bishop would serve no purpose, only to sow discord and anguish. Elizabeth's innocence, preserved by the Bishop's falsehood, became a fragile sanctuary that demanded protection.
"Yes, that's him. And do you know where they went?" Elizabeth pondered, a thoughtful pause punctuating her words. "No specifics. They mentioned seeking a private space, but it's been a few hours. I'm certain Indo will return for dinner."
"Thank you, dear. I may wait for their return, yet there must be some use of my time in the interim."
"Are you too occupied to guide me in deepening my connection with God and learning more gifts of the spirit?" Elizabeth inquired, a twinkle of eagerness in her eyes.
"There is always time to explore the ways of our Lord. Here's my proposal: engage in a study session with Sister Freydis. I will return this evening to address any questions you may have. Ensure you jot them down to avoid forgetting," I suggested.
"I can't wait!" She swiftly gathered her belongings, hastening to meet Sister Freydis. Informing the sister of Elizabeth's impending arrival wasn't necessary; it had become a routine, a core duty of ours—nurturing spiritual growth. While I would have gladly undertaken the task myself, my role as one of the Twelve demanded a broader responsibility, a commitment to defending the world against the Dark One and his malevolent forces. Conversing with the Chief Cardinals about my waning strength seemed an imminent necessity. If I can't uncover leads on Necros, I may use my time planning for a successor.
Entering a waygate, I traversed to the private conference room of the Twelve. The hall exuded an aura of sanctity, adorned with mosaics depicting biblical figures from our Earthly origin. It held a Godly Essence that connected all of us to one another as one body under God. It was a gift that held spiritual treasures more valuable than anything in the world, and right now I was going to use it to contact the appointed leaders of the Church.
I sank to one knee, a gesture of deference, and with head bowed, I began to invoke the names of the revered figures. "Father Scott, Father McElroy, Father Hernandez, Father Patel..." uttered in succession, each name summoned forth spirit projections of the esteemed Chief Cardinals. Twelve figures, emblematic of the twelve apostles, emerged. Their collective influence surpassed even that of the twelve Paladins, not in the realm of combat but in matters of spirituality and leadership. The one designated as the elected leader held the sway of two when pivotal decisions loomed. Yet, equality prevailed in the distribution of power.
"Yes, Christelle, how may we assist you?" Father Scott, a man of middle age with unremarkable features to an unfamiliar eye, inquired. His projection emanated a quiet authority, reflecting his esteemed position as a Chief Cardinal.
"Father, I seek clarity. My communion with the Holy Spirit appears to be fading, and I am uncertain whether this is indicative of my mortality or if sins obstruct the connection."
A Chief Cardinal raised his hand, signaling me to halt, while another gestured dismissively. "No, Christelle, it's unlikely to be you. Although those possibilities exist, other paladins haven't experienced such faltering as they neared the end of their lives. Moreover, you, the most compassionate of the twelve, steadfastly refuse to take life. While sin remains a plausible explanation, it seems improbable that you would withhold confession for any transgressions."
"What, then? Do you possess knowledge of this phenomenon? Are others grappling with the same issue?"
"All are affected, of that we are certain. However, the nature of this occurrence remains speculative, our understanding confined to theories lacking certainty," another affirmed. The conference room exuded a divine ambiance, adorned with intricate mosaics illustrating sacred scenes. The projections of the Cardinals, imbued with authority, filled the space with a profound presence. The air harbored the weight of reverence and disquiet, each uttered word carrying the sincerity of our shared dilemma.
"What do you mean? You sensed the weakening too? All of you?"
"Not only do we sense it, but our apprentices and holy men throughout, from deacons to priests, bishops, cardinals—every holy man and woman whose connection we know of has felt this," Father Gasper declared.
"Indeed. Some of those in training can't even wield Blessings of the first order because of it. You are not alone in this, Christelle, but we are uncertain whether you could help us rectify it or if rectification is even possible," Father Patel added.
"What is the prevailing theory among you? Do I, as a paladin, have the authority to know?" I inquired.
"Of course, you have the authority to know, but I am uncertain if it would be wise to disclose it if it might cause concern when we ourselves aren't certain if it's the case," Father Hernandez hesitated.
"If we can't share it with the champions of the Church, then with whom shall we share it? It's possible that the Twelve Paladins are our last hope," Father McElroy asserted.
Father Scott released a sigh. "We couldn't reach a consensus on what might be happening, but the theory with the most support suggests that the angels are gone. At least, those who granted us these gifts and saved us many centuries ago from Armageddon on Earth."
"How could that be?" I exclaimed.
"We know the Guardian Patriarch was vanquished during the Necros Wars, and we haven't heard from any other leaders since. We've had contact with a few lesser angels or officers of small squads, but even they have been absent for some time. With the increasing frequency of Hell Gates opening, we fear our protectors have been called elsewhere," Father Scott explained. The dim light in the room flickered, casting shadows that danced across the mosaic-adorned walls, emphasizing the weight of the revelation. The air grew heavy with uncertainty, and the collective concern etched on the faces of the spectral Chief Cardinals painted a somber picture.
"We believe this was intentional. That's why they bestowed upon us these gifts—the ability to perform miracles, the anointed, the training. All of this was to prepare us to defend humanity. We speculate that a sort of Armageddon will strike this world, just as it did Earth. Instead of relying on technology, which failed, we rely on the gifts of God," another Chief Cardinal elaborated.
So, this was the most likely scenario? Another Armageddon-like event? Although, I was too young to live through the previous one that happened over 821 years ago. I was sure everyone from that time had moved on to the next life. However, I knew that fiends from Hell numbered in the thousands and overwhelmed humanity. And our best chance was the Twelve Anointed Paladins? I would be lying if I said this wasn't worrisome.
"What's the best-case scenario?" I asked.
"It depends on for whom, but for the world, I guess that would be that we are all fallen away, abandoned by the Holy Spirit. However, that not only seems unlikely, but it doesn't explain the increase in Hell Gates making an appearance," Father Hernandez said.
"Actually, the best-case scenario would be that we're simply being tested by God," Father Patel added.
That would be the most convenient one. "So what would you have me do?" I asked.
"Have faith and be prepared for the worst. Arm yourselves for battle against Hell itself."
The room lingered in an oppressive silence, the weight of the revelation settling on each of us. The mosaic walls seemed to bear witness to our shared anxiety, their intricate patterns frozen in a sacred dance. As the seriousness of the situation sank in, I couldn't help but feel a profound responsibility as one of the Twelve Anointed Paladins.
The Chief Cardinals dispersed their spirit projections, leaving me alone in the consecrated chamber. The flickering light cast long shadows across the floor, a dance of uncertainty in the hallowed space. I rose from my kneeling position, feeling a sense of duty and apprehension. The path ahead was obscured, but my faith and the charge to defend humanity compelled me to face whatever lay beyond.
Closing my eyes, I began to pray for guidance, seeking strength from the Holy Spirit. As the echoes of my plea reverberated in the chamber, I exited, determined to confront the challenges that awaited