They spent the rest of the day buried in the books.
Rafael offered to continue reading on his own, but Vivian remained beside him, saying there was little else to do—no one ever came to the church in the middle of the week. It was then he learned her name. Vivian.
The books were old, their pages yellowed and fragile, written in an ancient tongue long abandoned by most of the world. Whenever Rafael hesitated over unfamiliar terms, Vivian gently leaned closer, guiding him through the meaning as if she had memorised the words long ago. The texts spoke endlessly of heaven and hell—of judgment, balance, and divine order—but never once did they explain how one might reach hell.
Time slipped through their fingers without warning.
Between chapters, Rafael asked her questions. Some she answered freely, others she avoided with practised grace. When she told him she was only twenty-four, he stared at her in disbelief.
"You're in charge of this whole church?" he asked. She nodded. "I think that's pretty cool," he said honestly. She smiled—small, but genuine. When he asked if she was always alone here, she hesitated before admitting she had grown used to the solitude.
"I'll come here every day," Rafael said suddenly. "Keep you company." She tried to wave it off, telling him there was nothing interesting about an old church. Rafael only laughed, saying it would be fun as long as a pretty girl like her was there. When he called her pretty, her cheeks flushed red, and she quickly turned away, pretending to focus on the page.
By the time they looked up again, darkness pressed against the stained-glass windows.
Vivian offered to keep the books safe, explaining that she lived beneath the church, in a small room where she cooked her meals alone over a simple stove. The thought tightened something in Rafael's chest—pity, mixed with something warmer.
As a thanks, he invited her to dinner. She refused at first, worried she might impose, but his insistence eventually wore her down.
When they reached the house, the door burst open before Rafael could knock.
Sara rushed out and wrapped him in a tight embrace, her shoulders trembling. Her eyes were red—she had been crying. "Where were you?" she asked shakily. "Do you know how worried I was?" Rafael apologised, explaining he had gone to the church.
Only then did Sara notice the young woman standing quietly behind him, her hands folded nervously in front of her.
Introductions were exchanged, and without the slightest hesitation, Sara stepped aside and welcomed Vivian into their home as though she had always belonged there.
Dinner soon followed—warm, lively, and filled with sound. Plates clinked, voices overlapped, and laughter echoed through the room in a way that made the walls themselves feel alive.
Rafael spoke of his visit to the church, of old books and long hours of study—careful to leave out any mention of the Key to Hell. Malrek and Draven immediately seized the opportunity to tease him, grinning as they accused him of only studying so diligently because a beautiful girl had been teaching him.
Vivian's face flushed crimson.
Sara only watched, smiling knowingly.
Later, when the laughter softened and the conversation slowed, Sara gently asked Vivian about her family.
"They brought me to the church when I was very young," Vivian said quietly. "I haven't seen them since."
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then Sara stood, crossed the space between them, and wrapped Vivian in a warm embrace.
"You can think of me as your mother," she said softly.
Vivian stiffened in surprise—then her composure cracked. Her eyes shimmered, and she nodded, holding onto Sara as though afraid the moment might disappear.
The night drifted on, filled with shared stories, soft laughter, and moments so tender they felt fragile. Watching them from across the table, Rafael felt something settle deep within his chest.
In his previous life, he had never known warmth like this. And deep down, he prayed, silently and selfishly, that it would last
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Night settled quietly over the new house.
Vivian shared a room with Sara, while the boys crowded into another one, exhaustion finally claiming them after days of emotion and change. Yet while the others slept, Rafael lay awake, staring at the ceiling as shadows danced along the wooden beams.
Sleep refused to come.
His thoughts drifted inevitably to the Clavis Inferni—the Key to Hell. Where it lay. What guarded it. What price he would have to pay to claim it. Then his mind shifted to something closer… darker.
The ring.
And the power it had awakened within him.
Rafael slowly sat up, the blanket sliding from his shoulders. He removed the ring from his finger and held it up before his eyes, the faint glow reflecting in his blue irises.
"If you act as a link," he murmured, "then I should be able to talk to you… right?"
His fingers curled tightly around the ring.
Closing his eyes, Rafael began to meditate—focusing not on his breath, but on the ring itself. On the presence bound to it. On Veleina.
The world lurched.
When he opened his eyes again, he stood within familiar darkness.
Iron bars surrounded him. Lanterns flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the cage floor. The air felt heavy—still.
He was back.
"The same place…" Rafael muttered.
Then—
A voice spoke behind him.
"So you finally learned how to visit on your own."
Rafael turned sharply.
A woman stood there.
She was beautiful—unnervingly so. Draped in black silk, her long dark hair flowing freely, lips painted a deep obsidian. Her eyes shimmered with quiet amusement.
Rafael stared. "Who are you?" She smiled. "It's me," she said lightly. "Your wife." The illusion shattered.
Dark energy rippled outward as the spell unravelled, and her form twisted—bones replacing flesh, smoke pouring from hollow eyes, death itself standing before him. "Veleina," Rafael gasped. "Woah—how did you do that?"
"A simple illusion," she replied. "I thought it might make this conversation easier for you." Shadows swirled again—and she returned to the beautiful woman. Rafael blinked. "…Okay, that's cool. Can you teach me that?"
She chuckled. "Everything you need is already in the ring." He looked down at it in his palm. "Then tell me everything about it." Veleina studied him, amused. "I'm surprised you managed to tap into its power this quickly."
"By the way," Rafael added, glancing around, "what is this place?" "Our shared consciousness," she answered. "You could say we're inside the ring itself." He nodded slowly. "Alright. Then tell me about the new magic."
"Shadow Magic," Veleina said. "It allows you to manipulate shadows as extensions of your will. You can shape them into weapons, store objects within them, conceal yourself, even heal." Rafael's eyes widened.
"Yes. Think of shadows as another limb. Another sense. Your only limit is your creativity." "That's insane…" he breathed. "Is there anything I can't do with it?" She tilted her head. "Its power is nearly limitless. It draws energy directly from me. The ring exists as our link."
"I see…" he said. She waved a hand dismissively. "Now go. You're running low on aether."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply being here drains you. Leave before it becomes dangerous." Rafael nodded. "Alright. We'll talk soon… my wife." And just like that— He vanished.
Back in the real world, Rafael jolted awake in his bed, breath steady. He slipped the ring back onto his finger and allowed sleep to finally claim him.
Morning came quickly.
After breakfast, Rafael wasted no time. He and Vivian left together for the church, fruits in hand to sustain them through another long day of study. Sunlight streamed through the stone windows as Vivian brought out the old books once more.
They read. And read. Until—
Rafael froze.
One of the pages bore an image that made his blood run cold. A skeletal figure draped in black. Smoke curling endlessly from its form.
Veleina.
The text beneath read: The Goddess of Death holds all secrets, all stories. She speaks only to those who seek death.
Rafael swallowed. He showed the page to Vivian. "Could you read this?" She frowned, studying it carefully. "I don't fully understand the meaning… but that image—this is a depiction of the statue of the Goddess of Death."
"Statue?" Rafael echoed. "She has one?" "Yes. Some people worship her," Vivian said softly. "It's located in the main province."
"I need to go there," Rafael said immediately. "I think the next clue to the Clavis Inferni is hidden at her statue." Vivian's expression darkened with worry. She hesitated, then asked quietly, "Why do you seek the Key to Hell?"
Rafael closed the book. "I can't tell you," he said gently. "I don't know what would happen if I do, so for now you'll just have to trust me." Vivian hesitated. "…Okay."
"Thank you," Rafael said sincerely. He stood and moved toward the door—then stopped. "You should come with me, Vivian. If you want the truth." She looked away. "I can't leave the church." "You mean this church," Rafael said softly. "The one you never wanted to be in. This lonely place."
He turned to face her fully. "I'm offering you a life of discovery. Of adventure." Vivian stared at him, sunlight glimmering around his silhouette. She didn't answer. "I'll be leaving in three weeks," Rafael said. "I need time to prepare. Decide by then."
And with that, he walked away. Leaving behind a church filled with silence… and a woman whose heart had begun to stir.