Velvora's streets always pulsed with sin, but deep beneath them… something older breathes.
The rain had stopped, but Asher couldn't tell when. The surface of Nocturne faded behind him as he led the others down the cracked spiral stairwell hidden beneath Saint Draven's Square. Each step sank them deeper into the bowels of Velvora—closer to the thing that was trying to wake.
The old stone groaned underfoot, slick with mildew and something darker. The air was humid, pressing against their lungs like wet cloth. Moss clung to the curved walls like veins, and a faint sound pulsed through the stone—a slow throb, like a sleeping heart under their boots.
Asher's grip tightened on the hilt of his sidearm. He didn't expect it to do much down here, but holding it made the fear easier to manage.
Behind him, Rosa adjusted her gloves, her usual smug expression dulled to something more… wary."This place smells like sin and old regrets," she muttered. "Why's it warm down here? We're supposed to be underground, not in a sauna from Hell."
Lucien descended silently behind them. His twin blades, sheathed in faint silver glow, reflected the grim torchlight lining the corridor. He hadn't spoken since they entered. That in itself was worrying.
"Something about this place…" Lucien finally said. "It doesn't just reek of rot. It remembers."
At last, the spiral gave way to a cavernous hall.
They had arrived.
A forgotten cathedral stretched before them. Pillars, cracked and hunched, rose toward a ceiling hidden in darkness. Stained glass windows lined the walls—windows that should've led nowhere, yet pulsed faintly with light from some invisible sun. Colors shifted behind them like oil on water.
At the center of the cathedral stood the altar. Not elegant. Not divine. Cracked, bleeding a black fluid that oozed and shimmered like tar. It pooled beneath it, never spreading beyond its designated space. Contained. For now.
Lucien took a slow breath. "This is where it started."
Rosa frowned, her fingers hovering over her pistols. "Started what?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "The First Pact."
Before Asher could respond, the cathedral shuddered.
A chime. Not from metal, but something… vocal. Faint, childlike, and fractured.
Then—echoes.
A choir, singing in a language none of them recognized. The sound filled every inch of the air, like it had always been there, waiting for ears to return.
Shadows writhed between the columns. Masked faces—wooden, gold-leafed, or bone—hung from the cathedral walls like trophies. Some grinned, others wept. All stared.
Asher felt a ripple in the world.
---------------------------------
Flashback Echo
Reality hiccupped.
For a blink, the cathedral wasn't abandoned. It was full—brimming with robed figures, chanting in rhythmic unison. Torches blazed. The air reeked of incense and blood.
At the altar, a child was dragged forward. Pale skin. Crimson eyes.
She looked straight at Asher—as if through time.
The girl opened her mouth. No scream. Just silence.
Then—black wings burst from her back, and her flesh burned with runes.
The first succubus.The First Pact.
---------------------------------
Back to Present
Asher blinked, stumbling back as the vision faded.
"This city…" he whispered. "It's built on a goddamn blood pact."
Lucien nodded grimly. "Five cities were chosen. They became the Five Pillars. Each bound to something ancient. But Velvora was the first to fall into servitude."
Rosa swallowed hard, visibly shaken. "So all this—succubi, soul-deals, cults—it all started here?"
Lucien didn't answer.
The black fluid at the altar began to ripple.
Beneath the surface, something shifted. A grotesque form began to rise—flesh fused with broken gold masks, feathers stained with rot, limbs uneven and twitching.
A malformed choir angel.
It wept a song that wasn't sound, but emotion—pure guilt, weaponized regret.
Asher's voice cracked dryly.
"Perfect. A nightmare peacock with unresolved trauma. Just what I needed."
Rosa, recovering her sarcasm, flicked the safety off her pistols. "Think it takes song requests? I vote Whitney Houston."
Lucien rolled his eyes. "Focus, children."
The creature shrieked.The stained glass exploded inward—shards scattering like razors through the air.
The cathedral became a battlefield.
Asher summoned his shadow tendrils, wrapping around the creature's limbs, holding its wings down. But every strike brought images—visions. Flashbacks bleeding into reality. Scenes of cultists performing dark rites, feeding their daughters to the altar, trading innocence for power.
Rosa danced through the falling glass, twin pistols blazing, each bullet igniting the air in sparks of heat. She cursed as the creature's song invaded her mind—fragments of her own past clawing at her thoughts.
Lucien struck next—his blades moving in elegant arcs, slicing through corrupted flesh and shattering gold mask fragments. But every cut brought more voices. Pleas. Bargains. Old oaths made by long-dead nobles.
The creature bled memories.
"Nocturne isn't cursed," Lucien growled, eyes flashing. "It is the curse. Velvora was just the first vein."
"And we're the idiots doing heart surgery on it with swords and sass," Asher replied, grimacing as a wing broke free and slammed him into a pillar.
Asher rose, blood in his mouth. His tendrils surged again—not at the creature, but into the altar.
The pulsing stone cracked. A splintering cry ripped through the cathedral. The black fluid recoiled violently. With a deafening screech, the malformed angel began to unravel—flesh peeling away into wisps of shadow, gold masks shattering like glass under pressure.
Then—silence.
The choir stopped.
The light in the stained windows died.
The black pool stilled.
All that remained were the masks… watching.
-------------------------------
End Scene: Hints of Bigger Lore
Lucien stepped toward the crumbled altar. Brushing aside rubble, he uncovered something buried beneath: a tablet of cold obsidian, etched with five ancient symbols.
Asher knelt beside him.
"Five cities…" he muttered. "Five Pillars?"
Lucien nodded. "Velvora's collapse was just chapter one. The game board's global."
Rosa leaned against a broken pew, trying to calm her breath. "So what, we're going international with this horror show now?"
Asher ran his fingers across the sigils. One shimmered faintly. He didn't recognize it—but it felt familiar.
He looked up, jaw set."We finish Velvora first."
His voice dropped low.
"Then we take the fight to the rest."
[End of Chapter 100]
---------------------------------------
Next Chapter Preview
Chapter 101 – Masks in the WaterAs the squad surfaces back into Nocturne, they realize the damage is already spreading. Streets are warping. People are changing. And something ancient is beginning to wake… not below—but among them.