The chapel filled with the uneasy shuffle of dozens of feet, the wooden benches creaking as the children and sisters gathered under the cold light of morning.
Sister Miriam stood near the altar, clutching the register to her chest. She could feel Sister Agnes's gaze burning into her. Sister Agnes's voice, though low, cut sharp."Why was I not informed, Sister Miriam? This is my charge, my responsibility. Father Bernard has no authority here without my word."
Miriam bowed her head, trying to find words, but before she could, Father Bernard's deep voice rolled through the chapel, silencing the whispers.
"Brothers, sisters, children of God—hear me." He raised his hand, the silver cross glinting against the morning light streaming through the stained glass. His tone carried the weight of command, honed by years of city pulpits and inquisitorial halls.
"These last months, evil has gnawed at our doorstep. And all trails, all whispers, lead here—to this holy orphanage.But do not despair. I was sent to cleanse this place of corruption. If the devil hides among us, today we shall tear away his mask."
The guards, grim-faced, shifted their halberds against the stone floor. A murmur rippled among the children; some wept quietly, others tried to look brave.
Father Bernard gestured. "Each of you will come forward. You will shed but a drop of blood. The Holy Cross will reveal the truth. But know that nothing will happen to you as god loves thee."
And so, one by one, the children stepped forward. A prick of the needle. A drop on the cross. The faint shimmer of holy light, the silence of relief, the shuffle back into place.
When Richard's turn came, the boy trembled so violently that Sister Agnes thought he might faint before reaching the altar. His eyes darted, his lips moved in silent prayer, or perhaps in fear. Father Bernard pricked his finger, pressed the drop of blood onto the cross, and raised it high.
The chapel was flooded with searing radiance. The cross blazed brighter than the sun, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. The stained-glass windows threw violent colors across the walls, reds and blues that danced like fire.
Children screamed. Sisters gasped. Even the guards staggered back in shock.
When the light dimmed, the air seemed charged, humming with a holy weight.
The children stared wide-eyed at Richard as he falls unconsciously in Father Bernard's arms.Sister Miriam stood frozen, her heart hammering. What had just happened?
But across the room,Father Bernard's lips curled into a satisfied smile. Beside him, Sister Agnes, though reluctant to show it,allowed the faintest trace of relief to soften her stern expression.
They both knew what the light meant. The prophecy has come true.
A hero was born today.
One of the mailed guards slipped into the chapel, bowing low before leaning to Father Bernard's ear.
"The boy has been subdued, Father. Elias is in our custody."
Bernard's eyes narrowed for a heartbeat, the faintest flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He gave a curt nod, then rose to his full height. His voice carried across the chapel, firm and commanding.
"Then it is settled. Do haste—arrange a carriage for Richard. The boy must be taken to the City at once. He has been chosen, and the Church will see him safely to his calling."
The announcement rippled through the gathered children, gasps and whispers breaking out.
Bernard rested a heavy hand on his back, speaking loud enough for all to hear:
"The Lord does not err. A hero is raised among us, and it is our solemn duty to send him forth. Ready yourselves, for this house shall be remembered as the place where destiny was kindled."
A few moments ago.
The guards spread through the woods beyond the orphanage walls.
"Here," one muttered, crouching over the torn ground. Morning light caught on something wet—blood, fresh and dark. Scattered nearby lay rabbits, ripped apart as if by giant claws, their entrails spilling across the soil.
The captain, a scarred veteran with eyes like flint, knelt and touched one carcass. His jaw tightened.
"Not foxes. Not wolves. Too brutal.Something ripped them open like parchment."
Before another man could speak, the sky split with a roar.
Primal.
The sound rolled through the trees like thunder, and every guard's breath caught in his throat.
Swords rasped free of leather.
"Form up!" the captain barked. "Stay tight. With me."
They charged through the undergrowth, branches snapping against their armor, until the trees thinned into a clearing.
Elias stood there.
The boy was hunched low, claws buried in the dirt, chest rising and falling with animal fury. His skin rippled, veins glowing faintly as though fire lived beneath.
His face had stretched into something grotesque—half-child, half-wolf. Fangs glistened red. His ears were long, pointed, twitching. And his eyes burned gold, feral and hungry.
For a heartbeat, silence.
"Kill him," the captain said flatly. "The Church will not be shamed for harboring a devil."
Elias raised his head. His lips peeled back into a snarl.
Elias moved first—a blur of muscle and claws. One guard was hurled aside with a single swipe, his armor screeching as he hit the ground. Another thrust his sword; sparks flew as steel glanced off Elias's arm. The monster caught him by the chest and flung him into a tree with a sickening crack.
Blades found flesh, but the wounds hissed and sealed before their eyes, steam rising from the gashes. Elias roared, a sound so deep it rattled in their bones.
"Saint preserve us—he won't die!" one guard cried, blood running down his brow.
The captain braced his sword against a strike that nearly split his arm in two. His teeth clenched. "We need Father Bernard's blessing—no steel will end him!"
Elias lunged. Claws tore furrows into the soil where the captain had stood an instant before.
Desperation burned in the captain's eyes. He tore the silver cross from his chest, its marble inset glowing faintly like a living heart. Murmuring a prayer through clenched teeth, he smashed it against the ground.
The marble shattered with a crack like breaking ice.
A burst of white radiance swallowed the clearing, searing through the trees. Holy power snapped in the air like lightning. Elias staggered, his howl twisting into a scream. His monstrous flesh burned and flickered, glowing veins searing white.
He collapsed, body twitching violently before going still. He returned to his human form.
The forest fell quiet. Only the guards' ragged breaths and the stench of blood lingered.
The captain straightened slowly, sweat and blood streaking his scarred face. His eyes lingered on the boy's limp body. A shadow of unease crossed his hardened features.
"Bind him," he said at last, his voice low. "Quickly. Father Bernard will decide the devil's fate."