The entire next day passed without any news of the Pope. The silence was deafening, each hour stretching into an eternity. Lyall's men scoured potential hideouts and burial sites, but they found nothing—no clues, no whispers, no trace of his whereabouts.
The demon's words echoed in my mind: Three nights to seal the deal. It was a chilling timeline, filled with foreboding. I knew he wasn't one to follow rules or play fair, but kidnapping the Pope? This was a move even I hadn't anticipated.
I didn't like the direction this was heading.
As dusk approached, the golden light fading into a dim orange hue, I sat with Lyall in my chambers, reviewing yet another fruitless report. The frustration was palpable, simmering beneath the surface. Lyall's expression mirrored my own—grim, focused, and deeply unsettled.
The tense stillness shattered as a man burst through the door, his face pale and his breath coming in frantic gasps.
