Lyra furrowed her eyebrows, her expression a mixture of confusion and apprehension.
"I've never heard of a similar phenomenon. Why isn't its existence taught in the Luminous House if it's so dangerous? Moreover, if the influence of a hostile deity managed to pierce through the Theurgic Field protecting Priene... We need to warn the Pontiffs!"
"Calm down." Antenor's grounded response kept Lyra from storming out of the room. "The Ashen Gift is a folk tale—a belief held by Profaners to illustrate their view of divine justice. We have good reason to assume that it was perpetrated by humans and, in some cases, magi."
His piercing gaze scrutinized every bit of symbolism etched on Father Phineus' corpse. Following a brief pause, he approached the stakes pinning the victim against the wall. A whisper barely escaped his lips, "Motive..."
Antenor stepped back, inspecting the entire crime scene as if he was starting to grasp a bigger picture.
"Did you find something?" Lyra asked, still hesitating whether to consider this act as possibly done by a human.
"The symbol painted in blood seems to be the Gaze of Retribution. It matches the reports from Gangra about the Ashen Gift." He pinched his chin, deep in thought. "However, the victims were staked through the heart in most cases. Father Phineus, on the other hand, was also pierced through the genitals."
"We only have one other case of this happening," he recalled. "An overzealous lad, newly sent to the fortress. Profaners had killed his entire family in a previous raid, so in return, he made sport of toying with the corpses of their slain."
"One day, after repelling a particularly vicious assault, he reportedly complained of seeing silvery eyes gazing at him from the shadows, and a continuous hiss that resonated in his ears."
Antenor massaged his temples. "He was found staked that very night. Next to the Gaze of Retribution, a word was scribbled in awkward Heriperan, most likely a Profaner attempting to imitate our ancient language. It read vevileis."
"Vevileis..." Lyra echoed. "This closely resembles vevilotis. It roughly translates to defiler, or desecrator, in the Hallowed Tongue."
"Indeed." Antenor nodded. "A stake through the genitals is reserved for those who defile that which they consider sacred. While I'm not educated on the Profaners from the Central and Austral Continents, those in the Boreal Continent have been observed to handle their dead with care. They have elaborate funerary rites and hold the spirits of their deceased in great respect. But..."
Lyra widened her eyes, though her realization sank her into further confusion. "What did Father Phineus do that would be considered desecration for the Profaners? And more importantly, how did they reach the Inner Monastery unnoticed? It'd involve getting past the tight surveillance of the Luminous House, and not even regular magi are capable of that."
"Perhaps it's tied to the Mystery that names itself the Henosis Seekers?" Stolos finally awoke from his stupor, offering a hypothesis.
Antenor shook his head. "The Henosis Seekers are a Mystery from the Central Continent. The Ashen Gift has only been seen in the Boreal Continent."
"Any chance it's linked with Father Agathon's death?" Lyra inquired.
"There's a possibility, yes..." His voice trailed for a second. "I'll attempt divination. You two provide support."
Antenor's Mana flow suddenly spiked, spilling out of his body in golden strands. They gathered around his left arm, spiraling and coiling akin to a serpent.
Soon, they grew bright enough to appear as a single lump of aureate light, sculpted by the Bishop's mere thought.
"Aigokeros," he chanted in Heriperan—a summon directed at the bundle of Mana.
Colors spread from its core and chiseled its upper part into the shape of a black goat with bronze horns, while the lower part morphed into the tail of a fish with gray scales. A glint of sentience shone in its red eyes, and it snaked around its summoner's body, brimming with an ominous aura that no magus could mistake.
It was the miasma of the Reverse Boundary of the World.
Bishop Antenor was a Zodiac Priest, the 8th-class of the Astral Sorceries. He could call upon the offsprings of some of the Zodiacs, the twelve Astral Eidolons linked to his brand of magecraft.
They were one of the rare types of Eidolons not openly hostile to humans, mainly thanks to the Goddess of the Celestial Sphere's influence, though invoking their power often incurred a steep price.
Lyra recognized the Eidolon that he had just summoned. It was a Delusion-class offspring of Aigokeros—Capricorn in the Hallowed Tongue—that could enhance one's aptitude for divination and eliminate mystical interferences.
"Get ready," Antenor commanded.
Lyra and Stolos woke from their daze at the same time. They moved in unison, stepping on each side of Antenor while readying themselves for the upcoming spell.
Amber and green-colored wisps of light surrounded the Bishop, flickering into Heriperan numerals as they channeled information from the room's flow of Mana directly into his mind.
In the complex field of divination, observing the past was considered the most straightforward endeavor. Everything, from people's thoughts to the breath they took, affected the flow of Mana in one way or another.
These slight divergences, too insignificant to notice with perception magecraft, could be reverse-engineered with the proper knowledge to establish a view of a bygone event.
Of course, since the flow of Mana was ever-growing and forever evolving, the distant past was much more difficult to observe, and one would be lucky to glimpse at mere blurs of long-forgotten memories.
The recent past, however, was another matter entirely.
A magus that hadn't taken the proper measures to shroud his movements could be spied upon as easily as glancing through a window.
As an Astrologer, the 9th-class of the Astral Sorceries, Priestess Lyra could quantify the flow of Mana itself.
By converting its corruptive force into mathematical theorems—a fathomable concept for humans—it would lessen the burden on her mind and allow for more intricate and efficient use of magecraft.
One of its practical applications, Odigia, was a spell that allowed her to transfer the quantified, and thus pure, information from the flow of Mana directly to Bishop Antenor, exponentially augmenting the efficacity and precision of his divination.
Novice Stolos, as a 10th-class Stargazer of the Astral Sorceries, was capable of a similar feat, though to a weaker extent.
Bishop Antenor maintained his focused expression despite the massive influx of information in his mind. Now a turbid shade of gold, his gaze locked onto Father Phineus' corpse. He raised his hand, and the light coming from the window bent and curved above his palm, forming a canvas that would display the past he wished to see.
The Eidolon's embrace tightened around his limbs, draining his Mana like a siphon. He could feel the faint, painful pulses in the back of his head, heralding the agony he would soon suffer as payment for summoning Aigokeros' offspring. Still, it didn't matter to him, as his wits remained incorruptible so long as he remembered the blessed peace of his faith in the Hallowed Sovereign.
Images began to appear on the canvas of light. Blurs, silhouettes, flickers, and vague shapes moved under Antenor's sight.
For a moment, he saw Father Phineus sitting on his chair, lost in a lone, intimate act. The sound of erratic rustling was interrupted by the creaking of his office door, and he jumped in fright. A shadowed figure entered, and just when he was about to see its face...
A silvery eye appeared on the canvas. It met Antenor's gaze, staring at his very soul with the throbbing madness of an unfathomable entity.
BOOM!
The Eidolon exploded in golden, ethereal dust. An unknown force violently tore his link with the flow of Mana apart, destabilizing the foundation of his divination. The backlash made the entire room rumble, and the sudden instability caused his spell to implode from the inside, creating a shockwave that hurled him backward.
Filaments of incredibly dense Mana sprung out, crashing against the walls, ceiling, and furniture.
Stolos was knocked out from a hit in the head, while Lyra enhanced her body in time, minimizing the damage of the impact. The tendrils lashed out everywhere for a few seconds, causing a stir that resonated throughout the Inner Monastery before Antenor could regain control of his spell.
The Bishop fought against a splitting headache as he stabilized the mystical reaction, slowly stifling the strands of rogue Mana out of existence.
Dust and debris fell out amidst the ensuing silence, and the hardened magus had his eyes wide open from shock—a stark contrast with his usual stoic expression. Sweat slid down his temples, and he struggled to calm his erratic breathing.
"Impossible..." Antenor blurted out, unable to voice any other thought.