The month of Radiance arrived with the warmth of sunlight and golden banners rippling across the rooftops. Every street of Luminaris bloomed with laughter and color as if the city itself had been reborn.
"The Holy Festival always looks like this," Kael murmured beside Elara, eyes scanning the radiant streamers strung between temples. "Like a dream someone's trying too hard to believe in."
Elara adjusted the hood of her pale-blue cloak. The scent of roasted grains and incense clung to the air, thick enough to choke on. "Dreams are easier to believe in than truth," she said.
Around them, citizens danced in circles of white and gold. Children carried paper lanterns shaped like suns, their giggles rising with the flutes. Priests of the Luminaries Temple walked among the crowd, blessing each family with water from crystal chalices.
To the people, this day marked the Holy Lord's victory, a divine triumph over the ancient Evil that once threatened their world. To Elara, it was a lie sung to perfection.
"Hard to think three days ago we were knee-deep in a pit full of tortured souls," Kael whispered, his tone grim.
Elara's eyes flickered toward the Temple's tall spire gleaming in the distance. "And now they pray to the same gods who made that pit." She whispered softly.
They didn't need to say more. The two moved quietly through the crowd, pretending to be simple travelers. Beneath the laughter and celebration, the Order's shadows were working.
---
The morning's sunlight melted into noon. The crowd thickened near the Temple Square, where the central ritual was about to begin.
"Citizens of Luminaris!" cried a priestess from the marble steps. "Gather your hearts in light and prayer! Today, the Holy Lord renews His covenant with our blessed realm!"
The people cheered. Flowers rained from the balconies.
Elara leaned toward Kael, her eyes hinting at a certain corner. "There. See that group of refugees near the right column?"
He followed her gaze and saw thin figures in patched clothing kneeling separately from the others. Two priests, faces masked by ceremonial veils, stood behind them.
"They're taking them away," Kael said, his jaw tightening. "Doesn't look like a blessing to me."
"Indeed," Elara murmured, "it looks like a harvest to me."
---
Half a hour later, the two blended into the flow of worshippers. Flute music rose above the chanting. Elara pretended to pray, watching carefully as the refugees were quietly led into a smaller gate behind the temple.
Kael's hand brushed her sleeve, signaling a split. He would take the western route. She nodded once and turned toward the shaded alleys near the temple's eastern side.
As Elara walking sneakily, the deeper she went, the quieter the festival became. The laughter and drums faded behind her until only the soft crackle of torches remained.
Elara pressed herself against a wall, watching a Priest emerge from the back corridor carrying a satchel. She recognized him, Priest Aldric, the one who often stay by Mother Aveline's side.
His steps were deliberate, his robes spotless even in the grime of the alley. She followed him silently, matching her pace to his shadow.
The alley curved and suddenly dimmed.
The torches blinked out one by one, leaving only the thin shimmer of moonlight filtering from the cracks above.
Elara froze. Her instincts screamed.
"Who's there?"
Something shifted ahead — a breath that wasn't hers.
Then a masked figure appeared, half-veiled in mist, robes darker than the walls themselves. The voice that came wasn't entirely human.
"The pact was never broken."
Elara's pulse quickened. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head, voice smooth as running ink.
"You seek truths buried in holy lies. Yet the one you abandoned waits still, bound by the thread you share."
Elara stepped forward, hand on her dagger. "Lucian?" she whispered hesitantly before she could stop herself.
The masked figure didn't answer. It raised a gloved hand and dropped something onto the ground. A roll of parchment tied with crimson string.
"The answers you fear lie beneath the library of shadows. Follow the map, child of the abyss."
The air rippled and the figure vanished like smoke swallowed by the dark.
Elara stared at the parchment. For a long moment, she didn't move. Her chest felt tight, as though her heart itself had been branded.
Then she knelt, picked up the parchment, and tucked it under her robe. Her hands trembled slightly.
"Get a hold of yourself, Elara" she whispered. "It's just another trick."
But deep down, she knew it wasn't.
---
When she stepped out of the alley, the world burst into noise again bells, laughter, the crackle of festival torches. She blinked, disoriented.
Kael would be waiting somewhere near the stalls by the main venue. But the words 'the pact was never broken' kept echoing in her head.
She moved quickly through the crowd, keeping her head down. The parchment pressed against her ribs like a secret heartbeat.
Unbeknownst to her, across the street, a young inner priestess dressed in white and gold turned from a procession.
Her eyes narrowed. "Isn't that—?"
The priestess leaned closer, peering toward the alley Elara had just exited. A familiar face. The same girl they used to torment years ago in the Temple's lower halls.
"Ah! Elara," she breathed, lips curling into a smirk. "So you've crawled back, little shadow."
Another young priestess beside her looked up. "What is it, Sister Mira?"
Mira's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing. Priest Aldric went into that alley minutes ago, and someone just came out looking suspiciously like an old friend of ours."
The other priestess hesitated. "Should we report it?"
Mira watched Elara's fading figure blend into the crowd. "Not yet. Let's see what she's up to first."
---
Meanwhile, at the far end of the city, Kael crouched behind a row of prayer wagons. From his point, he could see refugees being lined up in a courtyard closed off from the public. The sound of chanting rose, sounding too solemn for celebration.
His eyes widened and mouth agape. "So it's true. They're using the festival as cover."
A priest lifted a crystalline staff and placed it over a kneeling refugee's head. Light flared then dimmed. The man's body slumped, motionless.
Kael swallowed hard, forcing himself not to move. If Elara saw this…
---
Back in the crowded streets, Elara reached the food stalls near the outer gate. She sat at a bench, trying to steady her breathing. The parchment's edges brushed her palm, a quiet reminder of the voice in the alley.
Kael found her minutes later, his face pale. "We have to go."
"What happened?" Elara asked, her brows furrowed in worries.
He hesitated, eyes darting to the crowd. "They're draining people, Elara. Faith rituals — no, it's worse. They're extracting life. I saw bodies."
Her lips parted in horror. "During the Holy festival?"
He nodded tightly. "Behind the western courtyard. The priests looked possessed. And no one noticed. The music, the noise, it covers everything."
Elara clenched her fists under the table. "And they call this devotion."
Kael leaned closer, lowering his voice. "We can't expose this yet. We need proof. If the Order realizes we've seen them—"
"I know." She forced her trembling hands to still. "I'll look into the map. Maybe it's connected."
"Map?"
Elara met his gaze. "A stranger gave it to me. He said something about-" she paused as she suddenly realized her friend didn't know her secret yet.
Kael frowned. "About what?"
Elara looked away. "It doesn't matter right now. We'll talk later."
Kael's tone softened. "You sure you're not getting dragged deeper into this mess?"
A wry smile ghosted across her lips. "Too late to ask that."
---
As the night deepened, fireworks blossomed across Luminaris. The city glowed like a crown of embers under the moon.
Far beyond, in the Demon Realm, Lucian's crimson eyes snapped open. The faint pulse of the soul pact shimmered against his consciousness — distant, weak, but undeniable.
He stood from his throne, the runes on his wrists flickering with dark light.
"So… she's alive," he murmured. "And meddling again."
A shadow detached itself from the wall — one of his subordinates kneeling.
"Your Grace?"
Lucian's gaze turned toward the endless storm outside. "Something stirs in the human realm. Send word there. I want to know what the Order is doing."
"As you command."
When the demon vanished, Lucian let out a low sigh, eyes burning with both anger and curiosity.
"The pact was never broken," he repeated quietly. The words trembling in the air like a promise.