CHAPTER 8: TESTAMENT
The city stretched in a chaotic sprawl—winding streets that glow like molten gold veins under a dark skin of slate roofs and soot-black chimneys. The air thick with a mingling of scents.
"What is this place?" Siah's face was pale with exhaustion.
"We are in Fervor City of House Ardour, welcome," Asha teased.
"Don't make me get on that thing ever again. I almost died." Siah clutched his chest.
"That was the Karman line a Stillness ability of space that creates routes for Vessels to travel through the vast ocean and by Airssels to fly through the Sky. It seems Theal's judgement was wrong; you didn't receive a blessing or bestowment from an evil spirit you are still a mortal."
Siah's brows furrowed. "Then why am I still with you?"
Asha chuckled as she pointed at an impossibly tall, needle-spined cathedral of black stone and shimmering crystal, its stained panes bleeding violet light into the night. The spires clawed at the clouds, each tipped with cold, star-colored fire.
"That's the Fervor City's Eidolon Pantheon. My brother is waiting for us there maybe he can help you get rid of the evil spirit bothering you before i send you to the Crew County military for your new job."
Siah looked at the cathedral in confusion.
"House Ardour has men?"
Asha walked up the stairs to the cathedral door.
"You are really just a village boy, huh? House Ardour do not throw all their sons away—we only keep the Sanctified, making the few Ardour men we have left unfathomably powerful, like my brother the second strongest graduate at the Academy behind Theal and my uncle, the Acme's right hand man Grand Marshall of the Eidolon Pantheon."
Siah sneered. "They can't be that great."
Asha opened the cathedral door, whispering to Siah. "Be respectful. My brother is very strict and impatient."
Siah snorted coldly, entering the cathedral with silent footsteps.
"So you are the other spawn of that vile heretic. "A commanding voice came from the altar. Next to it stood a man with tousled silver-gray hair, his skin pale and smooth, stretched over a lean yet muscular frame.
Siah scoffed at his words. "Reckless words for someone standing a safe distance away from—"
His feet dangled a few inches from the ground, his breath strangled in his throat.
"This is close enough, don't you think?" The man tightened his grip on Siah's neck, speaking in a mocking tone.
"Clouds, stop! Put him down."
Siah was thrown to the ground, sliding toward the door. "Damn it… my neck feels like it was gripped by steel i didn't even see him move how did she say Theal is stronger than him?"
Clouds looked down at Siah with disdain. "He reeks of the abyss, just like the other one. Was the Red Bane's womb so rotten?"
Siah seethed with anger, looking up at Clouds. "I will not forget this debt."
Clouds withdrew his gaze. "What you want me to do is impossible, discard your childish goal and report him to uncle."
He walked to the altar, kneeling in a praying position. "I quite like your new friend; he is not as crazy as the other one, so I don't mind finding help for him. But I will need his help in the future in return. Now leave—you have delayed my prayer."
Siah was stunned. "What does he mean, the other one? Is he talking about Theal? How can Theal be crazy?"
Asha looked at Siah with pity and a bit of regret. "Let's go."
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Gourmand City – the Cathedral of the Eidolon Pantheon
"It failed again." Sir Gael slammed his fist on the round table, glaring at Father Hiermon, who smiled gently at him.
"Sir Gael, have a seat. The Pantheon's methods are always accurate."
Sir Gael sat down, chugging a cup of water. "What does a bestowment failure imply?"
Father Hiermon poured himself a cup. "It implies this matter is not simple and must be treated with caution."
Sir Gael shot him a cold glare. "You better not be trying to use the Red Bane to deny my squire his opportunity."
"Sir Gael, I think sometimes it's better to restrain our urge to help and leave difficult matters in the hands of those above us."
Sir Gael stood up pushing the doors open, walking out with intense footsteps.
"This pain has no end." Theal rubbed his forehead with a pained expression. "Why does the bestowment keep failing?"
Theal rubbed his forehead even more intensely. "What did I do wrong? I never fail. I will never fail—i cannot be at fault."
Theal stood up, irritated. "How can this happen to me? Does the spirit not favor me? I am perfect. I am nothing like those things."
He walked toward the mirror, his blood-red eyes reflecting a deep frown.
"Luca, it must be your stillness of the Abstract Concept of Bias you bestowed on me that's interrupting the Eidolon Spirit's bestowment."