In the capital of the Nidas Theocracy, there stood a grand cathedral. Its towering spires reached for the sky, and in the shadowed heart of this majestic building, there was a special place—a shrine dedicated to the Star of Eternal Night. The sacred space was draped in deep blue tapestries, sparkling with silver stars. It wasn't just a regular place of worship; it was a sanctuary for something much more profound.
Each evening, as the sun set, the vast hall of the cathedral was lit only by flickering candles and the soft, magical glow of star-shaped stained glass windows. In this peaceful setting, the high priest stood alone at the altar. He wore flowing robes embroidered with symbols of the Star, and he stood still, eyes closed in deep concentration.
The silence was deep, broken only by the soft rustle of his robes and the occasional whisper of wind through the ancient arched windows. In this sacred moment, the priest began to speak, his voice a low murmur echoing through the darkened cathedral.
"O luminous Star, whose light guides us through the darkness, we seek your wisdom. Speak to us, and let us hear your voice."
As he chanted these words, a subtle tremor seemed to pass through the air. The candles flickered wildly, and shadows danced on the walls. The priest's expression changed to one of awe and reverence, as if he could feel a presence—unseen but deeply felt, the essence of the star itself.
In the eerie silence, the priest seemed to hear a voice—faint and distant, yet profoundly clear. At that moment, the world seemed to shift, and reality felt different under the weight of this presence.
He felt sensations so strange, like tasting colors—vivid reds and greens swirled in his mind, and there was a bitter metallic taste that lingered. The air was alive with sounds painting images in his thoughts: deep roars of distant nights, whispers of forgotten secrets, and the laughter of unseen beings.
His eyes watered, droplets of red falling onto the altar like an offering. His vision blurred, and he struggled to stay grounded, feeling both elevated and terrified. It was as if the star was whispering directly to his soul, a voice both ancient and timeless.
Then, silence filled the room. The priest's eyes opened slowly, his face pale from the weight of the divine message he received. He realized these words were more than a vision; they were a sacred truth revealed from the depths of the universe. The Star, with its eternal gaze, had indeed spoken, revealing the mysteries of the night.
"I will pass down the orders immediately, my Lord" the high priest mumbled with emotion as he left the sacred space and entered his private quarters. Once inside, he closed the door and collapsed into his luxurious chair, his hands trembling slightly.
"My mind still feels dizzy after receiving that message," he whispered, massaging his temples as shadows in the room seemed to sway with his thoughts.
He picked up a small phone from a nearby desk and dialed a number without hesitation. Within seconds, a deep voice answered on the other end. "Yes, high priest? How may we be of service?"
"Eliminate everyone in the slums of Gate city. Do not let a single soul escape," the priest commanded firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Understood, my lord."
The line clicked off, and the high priest sighed as he hung up the phone. He wasn't sure if what he had done was right, but he knew it was necessary.
"Complete extermination," he murmured to himself, "and the complete silence of the Seers... Could a mere Voidling cause such chaos?"
—-
746 kilometers away, the Director of DMC stood on a luxurious chair, much like the High Priest's, his hands trembling as he stared at the gruesome photos one of his journalists had brought him.
He wasn't easily scared, but the sheer brutality of the murders that had occurred in the city's poorer areas over the past two days sent a chill down his spine.
Though not a superstitious or particularly religious man, he couldn't deny the apprehension that gripped him as he looked at the photos. Unable to stop himself, he clasped his hands together in a silent prayer. "May the Stars protect us," he whispered.
He set the photos down on his desk and looked out the window of his office, trying to shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest. The city skyline stretched out before him, a labyrinth of concrete and steel under the fading light of day.
His mind raced with questions. What Incarnations could be behind such heinous acts? And why now? The director knew the answer would not be found in the comfort of his office, but he also knew that getting involved would be dangerous.
There were powerful people in this city-people who wouldn't take kindly to someone poking their nose where it didn't belong.
Yet, the Director felt a growing sense of responsibility. As the head of DMC, he had the power to inform the public, and to perhaps stop the bloodshed before it escalated further.
He reached for the phone, dialing the number of the only person he knew that could bring the truth to light.
"Miss Mia," he said as soon as she picked up, "I have something urgent for you. I need you to investigate the murders happening in the slums. These aren't ordinary crimes, and we need to find out who's behind them"
There was a pause on the other end of the line before the private detective replied, her voice filled with unnatural happiness that never failed to make his hair stand on end.
"On it" was his only response before the line went dead.
Having done his best, the Director leaned back in his chair, his mind still racing.
He glanced once more at the photos on his desk In the solitude of his office, he whispered another prayer, this time not just for the city but for Mia and all those brave enough to seek the truth.