Kirinworth awoke, not through sight, but through touch. His eyes, glued shut like unhealed scars, opened painfully. His face pressed against a cold surface, either a wall or the ground, his sense of space disoriented after prolonged darkness and unconsciousness. Moving slightly, a sharp pain shot through his ankle, confirming the presence of shackles, and that he hadn't lost a limb. He suspected rats had bitten him but couldn't identify where. Upon opening his eyes, he recognized the geometric shapes of the walls and floor and a small dish. Seeing it triggered a mix of nausea and hunger in him, though he never figured out what he ate from it.
He didn't want to die, nor did he want to pray. Lacking the strength and clarity for it, he had become part of the darkness and stench of the underground cell, no longer the cathedral physician Benedictus' caretaker, but a mere combination of flesh and bone rising from the earth. Witnessing the Archbishop's final breath had almost destroyed his faith, but now the pain he felt was of a different kind—an agony where the Light seemed to distance itself from his diseased body for its preservation.
He remembered how it all happened. His emotions, once stirred by these memories, had been reduced to nothing by the chaotic flow of time in the dark.
After the Archbishop's death, as the last person at his bedside, Kirinworth found himself under unprecedented scrutiny. People asked whether the Archbishop had any final words or if any miracles occurred. Kirinworth evaded these questions, angering many, but he didn't care. They were like gossipmongers, ignoring the sacredness of the situation, and most of them were clergymen, which enraged him further.
They suspected he hid the Archbishop's final words—a hypocritical and detestable thought, though not entirely unfounded. Kirinworth had indeed heard the Archbishop utter a candidate's name before dying but refused to spread it, knowing it would only fuel further speculation. The same people had caused enough confusion while the Archbishop was alive; he wouldn't give them a new chance for slander, even if it made him an outsider in the Church.
An outsider, so be it. None of the three candidates measured up to the Archbishop. Kirinworth had little hope for a righteous future for the Church of the Holy Light in this land. The fact that none of the senior clergy stayed by the Archbishop's side during that night, due to fear of the earthquake, was already an omen.
Kirinworth had a close friend, a dentist, who hadn't attended church in years. Kirinworth knew it wasn't due to a lack of faith but because they shared a belief that the Church no longer represented the Holy Light. He was the only person Kirinworth could confide in.
"I'm so sorry, Kirinworth," he said. "I can't fully understand the pain you're going through. The Archbishop dying before your eyes…on the night of the earthquake… It's heartbreaking. I wish I could help you."
"Help with what? No offense, but your concern is enough for me."
"There is a way. Maybe you're fighting alone in the Church, but that doesn't mean you're alone outside."
"What do you mean?"
"You've led a rather isolated life, and it's understandable, given your focus on the Archbishop's health. But there are others, both in Stormwind and beyond, who share our views. You're convinced the Church is on the wrong path, and these like-minded people prove you're not insane."
"I've never heard you mention this before."
"Because I felt it was time. The earthquake, the Archbishop's death, the disappointing candidates… The faith in this country is facing its greatest crisis, but it's also the best time to correct it. Those with true faith will stand up at this moment."
"Where can I meet these people?"
"Listen carefully, Kirinworth. What I'm about to say mustn't be revealed. The twisted faith manipulating the state machine would gladly target you, especially since you've already angered some of them."
"You know I'm trustworthy."
"Of course, I don't doubt you, but the matter is serious, and I must remind you. Let's put it this way: My collaborators and I are determined to unite all believers of the true faith, and we've already started doing so."
"You mean like a society?"
"You could say that. We don't have a formal organization yet; we just gather to discuss issues, like how to expose the evil forces within the Church and establish the faith this country truly needs. Our goal is to promote the right changes."
"I'm interested."
"That's great. To be honest, I planned to convince you to join us today. Your help is crucial for this endeavor, which could lead to great deeds. We need a witness, someone who represents authority and truth."
"If this is another scheme to make me reveal the Archbishop's final words, I'm not interested."
"No, of course not, but we do need you to provide some information. Your belief is that the Archbishop fell ill because he bore the sins of others. I need you to explain this at our gatherings, as the last witness to the Archbishop's life. No need to answer immediately—I know what worries you, Kirinworth. These talks are meant to strengthen our faith and won't be spread, as everyone knows the risks."
His friend's words hinted that he still valued his position in the Church, a Church that no longer represented the Holy Light. Kirinworth had to agree.
The first two meetings had fewer than twenty people. Although disappointed, Kirinworth felt excited and relieved because, for the first time, he could express his views without restraint, and people listened—eyes filled with devotion and focus.
Nehari indulges in slaughter and power struggles; Lindy insults the Light with his so-called medical research; Hylan has long secluded himself, showing no concern for the country's faith. The Archbishop fell ill because of their sins; this was the only reasonable explanation. The more the Archbishop suffered, the purer his faith became. Those foolish doctors could never save this great man because they lacked true faith. And I saw it all, with my own eyes!
Kirinworth shared everything he saw, heard, and felt. Of course, he withheld the Archbishop's final words, which he now doubted he even heard.
The audience grew in number. After five gatherings, Kirinworth had to follow his friend's arrangements to give speeches at secret locations across Stormwind, each with over a hundred participants. He saw hope, a future worth looking forward to, as long as these people stood up… Until he realized he was no longer the center of these gatherings. The dentist and his so-called collaborators took up most of the speaking time. Kirinworth's role shrank to showing his credentials, providing some facts, and then retreating to the background while the hosts analyzed or distorted his words.
"That's not what I meant, and you've always known that," Kirinworth told his dentist friend after one meeting. "The Church is straying from the Light's path, but the Archbishop was still its representative. He fell ill because he bore others' sins. He himself was entirely innocent."
"That's your personal view, not necessarily the truth. Perhaps you were too close to the Archbishop to see his flaws. Always remember to keep your faith strong, Kirinworth. Don't let emotions blind it. Besides, you only know part of the truth. I have friends who have proven the Archbishop engaged in corrupt practices…"
"That's slander. Utter nonsense… I can't listen to this. You tricked me. You said these people shared my beliefs…"
"Yes, we all believe in the Light. Doesn't that count as shared beliefs? You're too arrogant. You know part of the truth, but you'll never be the sole interpreter of the Holy Light. I have witnesses to the Archbishop's misdeeds—you can talk to them."
"No. Don't try to corrupt me. I see through you—you're worse than those in the Church… At least they don't deceive me. I'm done."
"Done? What do you mean?"
"I've been foolish. This is…cult behavior. Those eyes aren't seeking truth; they're merely worshipping madness. I have my reason. I'd rather place my hope in the candidates."
"Stop. You can't leave through that door."
"I won't see you again. For now, I'll keep this secret, but if you do anything to harm the state…"
On the first day of his captivity in the basement, Kirinworth's emotions swung between two extremes. On the one hand, he was proud of his integrity and determination; on the other, he was terrified by reality. At first, he planned to keep track of the days and distinguish between night and day…until the boundaries between sleep and wakefulness blurred. At one point, he thought he was going through the same experience as the Archbishop—suffering for others' sins. The thought didn't excite or sanctify him; it simply led his mind into a blank state of calm.
At that moment, Kirinworth heard a noise. He looked up. The trapdoor at the top of the basement stairs opened. At first, he thought it was his dentist friend, but then he saw a yellow light, and his eyes stung. The person was carrying an oil lamp. His former friend had never brought light into this place.
"Is anyone down there?" the person said. "Seems like there is. Damn, what's that thing beside you… I'll pretend I didn't see or smell it. If you're still alive down there, knock on the floor…never mind, I didn't expect you to climb up on your own."