Riley sat comfortably in the lavish chair, the velvet upholstery swallowing him in its embrace.
Across from him, Hector—his father—and the bishop and imam were seated with stiff postures, grim lines etched deep into their faces.
The contrast between the room's opulence—the gleaming mahogany, the ornate gilded frames, the heavy velvet drapes—and the tension that thickened the air was almost suffocating.
It felt as though the walls themselves were struggling to smother the gravity of what was about to be revealed.
Hector leaned forward, his voice carrying an unfamiliar tremor. "Ryan, do you recall anything about Case No. 87?"
Riley blinked, his brow furrowing as confusion danced across his features. "Case No. 87?" He repeated the words slowly, as though testing them for meaning, but they yielded nothing.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The elderly bishop, with eyes that appeared to hold countless secrets from ages past, interrupted the conversation with a weighty seriousness that seemed to weigh down the very atmosphere.
"There are relics, Ryan—ancient, perilous relics that defy both time and comprehension. The religious order has classified them according to the threat they pose—threats not just to life, but to the fabric of reality itself."
Curiosity gradually replaced Riley's confusion as he leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. "Go on. I'm listening."
The bishop's eyes glinted with cautious approval as he continued. "These relics are divided into four classifications—Cases, as we call them.
"There are historical relics— dangerous relics or artifact as some calls them" the bishop began, "The religious system categorized this artifacts into four Cases.
Case 0 represents extremely dangerous. They are of the highest importance and highest confidentiality. They are not to be inquired, disseminated, described or spied. They can only be sealed in the basement of a confidential place. The security clearance can only be given by the king, bishop and imam"described the bishop in details.
Riley's lips curled into a faint smirk, "If you are saying this to pique my curiosity" a dark intrigue fueling a spark in his eyes. "You've certainly succeeded" he admitted. "So what comes next?"
The bishop exchanged a glance with the imam, who gave a solemn nod before taking over.
"Case 1 is Highly Dangerous. They can be used in limited ways. Their security clearance is limited to bishops and imams— Ravenheart deacons included— and above. The central cathedral of Ravenheart headquarters like Emberglade can store one or two artifacts. The rest will be handed over to the holy citadel."
The imam's deep voice reverberated through the room, as if the walls themselves trembled at his words.
"Case 2 is Dangerous. They can be used with care and moderation. The security clearance requires one to be a bishop, imam or a Ravenheart usher and above. The central cathedrals in various cities can store three to five artifacts the rest would be handed over to the holy citadel or the Emberglade cathedral"
Riley's interest was now fully ignited, though unease crept into his tone. "I understand the classifications… but why tell me this now? Does this have something to do with Case No. 87?"
Hector stiffened, shadows clouding his eyes. "You need to grasp the hierarchy before we can reveal the real issue at hand.
"Case 3 is Considerable dangerous. They have to be carefully used. It can be applied for operations that requires three or more people. The security clearance requires one to be a formal member of the Emberglade church."
The bishop's voice dropped to a near whisper, as though he feared the very walls might hear and betray their secret.
Riley's patience was thinning, his confusion mounting with every word. "You've given me a meticulous rundown of the relic hierarchy, but none of this explains why you're bringing up Case No. 87. What does it have to do with me?"
A heavy silence followed before Hector finally spoke, his voice trembling as though it might shatter under the weight of what he was about to reveal. "Because, Ryan… Case No. 87 is directly tied to you."
The words hung in the air like a death knell. Riley's mind raced, but no memory, no image surfaced to explain the claim. "Tied to me? How? I don't recall anything like that."
The three men exchanged wary glances, a silent understanding passing between them. It was the imam who broke the silence, his voice deliberate, as though each word carried the weight of a burden too great to be shared. "The real document, Ryan, is classified as Case No. 0-87."
Riley's brow furrowed as a chill crept down his spine. "Case No. 0-87?" he repeated, the ominous number resonating in his bones.
Hector leaned in closer, his expression grim. "It means that the document is a Case 0 artifact—the deadliest—and it's the 87th of its kind."
Riley's pulse quickened as the significance struck him. He had just been told that Case 0 artifacts were considered catastrophic, sealed away from all but the most elite.
But what gnawed at him was the implication that he, somehow, was linked to such an abomination. His mind churned, grasping for answers that refused to align, while a nauseating realization began to take root.
"Why… why does any of this involve me?" Riley's voice wavered, suspicion sharpening his gaze. "You're hiding something. There's more to this, isn't there? Something you're not telling me."
The imam inhaled deeply, weariness darkening his eyes as he prepared to unveil the truth. "It's not just any document, Ryan.
Case No. 0-87 is an artifact, yes, but it's unlike anything else in existence. It contains knowledge—dark, forbidden knowledge—interwoven with powers that predate civilization itself.
It is not merely dangerous; it is corrosive. It corrupts everything it touches, infecting minds, twisting reality."
Hector's voice trembled with sorrow and fear.
"And you, Riley, are directly linked to it. You're not just some bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
You are 'bound' to this artifact in ways that even we struggle to comprehend."
Riley's chest tightened as a mix of dread and disbelief gripped him. "Bound? What do you mean 'bound'? This doesn't make sense! I don't remember any of this!"
The bishop, who had been silently observing every flicker of emotion on Riley's face, finally spoke, his tone clinical, each word measured like a surgeon wielding a scalpel.
"You don't remember because those memories were sealed away.
The rituals required to contain the knowledge within you were drastic, but necessary. The document, Case No. 0-87, is not just a physical relic—it is partially alive.
It latches onto a host, becoming both a parasite and a prison. It chose you."
Riley's voice shook with a mix of anger and fear. "And I was its chosen host?"
The imam's gaze was unwavering, his expression solemn as he met Riley's eyes. "Not just chosen, Ryan. You were the only one capable of surviving the bond.
The entity needed someone with an exceedingly rare spiritual constitution—someone who could endure its presence without succumbing to madness."
Riley felt the ground shift beneath him as fragments of buried memories clawed at his consciousness—dark rituals, cryptic symbols, whispers in forgotten tongues.
He could almost feel something foreign slumbering within him, something ancient, something malevolent.
"Why me?" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "Why did it have to be me?"
Hector's eyes glistened with regret. "Because we had no choice. You were born with a latent gift, a dormant ability that made you the only viable candidate. Binding you to the artifact was the only way to save you… and contain it."
The trio exchanged furtive glances, a flicker of something akin to satisfaction briefly passing through their eyes before they quickly masked it. They couldn't afford to betray themselves now, not when they were so close.
The bishop's voice turned cold, slicing through the tension like a blade.
"The seal is breaking, Ryan. The knowledge, the power—it's seeping into your mind. If we don't act soon, the entity will awaken fully, and when it does, it will use you to unleash nightmares beyond comprehension. it like a door that must be forced shut before it fully opens"
Riley's world spun as the weight of it all crushed down on him—the choices stolen from him, the truths kept hidden. His life, a series of manipulated events, all leading him to this moment. Rage boiled within him, his fists clenching as he rose from his seat.
"You've used me as a pawn! You turned me into a weapon, and now you expect me to accept it? To help you fix this mess?"
The imam's voice softened, though the steel in it remained. "Your anger is justified, Ryan. But sealing your memories was the only way to preserve your sanity. Without it, the entity would have consumed you long ago."
"All we need is for you to cooperate with us to extract your memories alongside the cursed knowledge. We then seal it. It like performing a gentle exorcism on you.
Riley sank back into the chair, crossing his legs with a calm that belied the storm brewing within him. A faint, unsettling smile tugged at his lips.
"Lies," he said, his voice flat, devoid of the turmoil raging beneath his icy exterior. "You think I can't see through your games? My acting is more sophisticated than yours."
'I should deliver a cool line here.' Riley thought.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed, bishop. So tell me—what happens when the door you've forced open refuses to stay shut?"