The sun wasn't trying too hard, just glowing faint behind a white blur. On the grassy hill behind the Church of Hazaya, Henry sat under a crooked old tree with cracked bark and leaves like tired hands.
He wasn't thinking much. Just breathing. The wind pushed at the grass gently, like it was afraid to wake it up.
A flutter.
A pigeon dropped down from the sky, landing near his foot. It looked confused, as if unsure if it had the right person. Its little head tilted.
Henry leaned down.
Tied to its leg, a tiny note.
He untied it. The paper was wrinkled and smelled like ink and rain. He unfolded it with fingers that had been through too much lately.
It was from Officer Andrew.
" Henry,
The tentacles are spreading again near the edge of Prada.
Major Salis Phantos took a squad and went toward the Church ruins to reach the diary…
but something happened.
There was a mysterious fog around the stairs.
They say he walked into it like he saw someone he loved inside.
And then he was gone.
We haven't found him. Or the squad.
I thought you should know.
—Andrew Fritz."
Henry's jaw tensed. He folded the note slowly.
The pigeon cooed, hopped once, and flew away. It didn't care what was written.
The hill suddenly felt colder. The wind wasn't gentle now—it had teeth. The sky still looked the same, but now it was watching. Waiting.
Henry looked down at the grass. One of the leaves near his hand had turned black at the edges.
"Salis…" he whispered.
Inside the chapel,
Father Vain stood beside the altar, his expression smiling and sharp, as always.
Emilia sat in front of him, hands folded on her lap. For once, she looked calm.
"I've decided," she said, her voice soft. "I'll join your Church. Maybe not for faith… but to understand more. To understand myself."
Father gave a small nod, slow and knowing.
"That is how many begin," he said. "Faith follows understanding. Or perhaps, they meet halfway."
Outside, the sun leaned westward. Shadows stretched across the mossy stones around the Church of Hazaya.
Henry sat alone beneath the crooked old tree at the back of the chapel hill, staring out across the horizon where the sky met the scarred skyline of Prada.
He was muttering to himself.
"Azmoda Lunar E… what the hell does it mean?"
The phrase had been circling in his mind like a hungry insect. Whispers from books he hadn't read. Visions that weren't dreams. The Annular Solar Eclipse—Azmoda Lunar E, the name given in old folklore. A cosmic omen. A passage. A mouth.
He shut his eyes.
The wind was colder now. He crossed his legs and placed his palms on his knees, inhaling through his nose.
"I'm The Peer now," he said quietly. "But I don't feel anything. No trait or awakening. Nothing."
He focused but slowed his thoughts.
The world didn't vanish, it grew louder.
He heard the insects in the grass. The breath of distant fires. He could almost feel the weight of the sky pressing down. Something just out of reach.
But what was he missing?
The Route was waiting. But it wouldn't speak first. His body sat still, but inside his chest, something old stirred.
"Show me," he whispered. "I'm ready to see."
....
The ruins stretched wide, like broken memories of a city that once believed in mornings. Ken Chagol wandered through the cracked stone paths, kicking bits of shattered glass and bone out of the way as he hummed a tune to himself. Something jazzy. Off-key. His coat flapped lazily in the soft wind, and mud clung to the bottom of his boots like a needy pet.
He didn't mind.
Wandering was his specialty.
"Left or right?" he asked no one. "Let's try up today."
And just like that—his next blink was different.
He wasn't on the ground anymore.
He was standing sideways on the roof of a broken building. But the world hadn't flipped but he had. His boots touched the wall like it was the floor. Gravity? Apparently, it had taken a coffee break since he started wandering.
He looked across and saw the real roof across from him. His body was leaning toward it, but he wasn't falling. Just hanging on a slant like a cat too stubborn to acknowledge the laws of nature.
Ken blinked again. "Wait.... when did this happen?"
He took a slow step forward, still defying the pull of earth like it was a bad joke. He checked his balance. Still there.
He touched the side of his hat and adjusted it with one finger. "Detective Chagol reporting for rooftop nonsense."
The ruined city spread around him like a puzzle someone had given up on. From up here, he could see broken wagons, collapsed homes, and the long trails of tentacles in the streets. Shadows moved, slow and unsure, like they weren't done forming yet.
Ken crouched, pulled open the little latch on the side of his coat, and popped open the chamber of his revolver. Click. Click. He pushed in fresh rounds with a smile like he was feeding a favorite pet.
"Nothing like a full stomach to start the day, eh?"
He spun the chamber, let it click into place, and holstered the revolver with a flourish.
The wind shifted. A strange hum tickled his ear. Not a voice, not music.... just... a question he couldn't hear.
Ken grinned, stood tall on the tilted roof. For a second, he became a statue. The world around him froze. He was staring at nowhere, thinking something very deeply he never did before. Suddenly, one side of his skull explode and a insect came out within it. Bathing in fresh blue blood.
"Alright, weird city," he whispered. "You wanted me here?"
He pointed his revolver at the sky like it owed him a drink.
"Let's dance."