Hanza, the capital of the vast Empire, rose majestically along the shores of a great strait that nearly divided the continent in two. Its strategic position made it a center of commerce, culture, and power. Upon arriving in the city, the first thing that stood out was its imposing walls, tall and impenetrable, protecting every street and every house within its limits. For nearly a thousand years, these walls had never fallen.
Stone towers surrounded the walls, always guarded by vigilant sentries. The streets, paved with ancient stones, echoed the sound of hurried footsteps and the constant movement of carriages, bringing the vibrant scene to life.
In the heart of Hanza stood the grand cathedral, a monument of faith and power that dominated the skyline. With spires that pierced the heavens, the cathedral was a testament to the Empire's unwavering devotion. Its golden domes gleamed under the sun, reflecting light like a spiritual beacon. The sound of the bells echoed throughout the city, calling the faithful to prayer, their melody resonating through the streets and creating an atmosphere of reverence that contrasted with the daily chaos.
The cathedral's doors, enormous and adorned with intricate reliefs of divine scenes, were constantly open, allowing a continuous flow of people to enter. Pilgrims from distant lands, nobles of the Empire, and even soldiers returning from war came seeking the blessings of the gods. The cathedral was not just the largest temple in the city; it was the cradle of the entire imperial faith, the place where religion had taken its first steps.
The interior of the cathedral was even more impressive. Sunlight filtered through the massive stained-glass windows, casting colorful depictions of saints, gods, and legendary heroes onto the white marble walls. The floor was covered in detailed mosaics, each piece carefully placed to form scenes from the sacred scriptures. Tall columns supported the vaulted ceiling, decorated with frescoes portraying the gods of the imperial pantheon, each with their own holiness and power. The air carried the soft fragrance of incense, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.
However, it was not just the grandeur that defined that cathedral. There was also a mystery, a secret that few knew. Beyond the halls filled with altars and rooms for the faithful, there was a more secluded area, accessible only to the highest members of the religious hierarchy.
After passing through a series of chambers, offices, and corridors, there was a hidden room, guarded and locked, where no one but a chosen few could enter. This was the room of the Saint.
In the Empire's tradition, there was always a Saint — a figure born not by chance, but by the will of a god. These individuals were living channels of divine will, serving as their representatives on earth. Over the centuries, both men and women had held this role, each bearing the burden and glory of their connection to the divine, along with its responsibilities.
Among the many gods worshipped, the most prominent was the Goddess of Justice and Virtue, Astrea, and it was she who spoke through the current Saint.
Inside her isolated room, the Saint did not merely sleep; she dreamed. Her dreams, however, were not ordinary. They were visions sent by the Goddess, fragments of a spiritual reality that mortals could not fully comprehend.
At that very moment, the Saint experienced one of those dreams. She saw the image of a chained lion with a cruel gaze in its eyes. The fierce creature was bound by thick chains, with deep scars and fresh wounds covering its body. Every moment, something struck it, forcing it to roar in agony.
For many years, she had seen images of this dream without understanding what her goddess was trying to convey. All she could do was observe. The lion remained in that state of torment, its life reduced to suffering and pain. But recently, something changed. Its eyes, once hesitant, began to shine with a new vitality. The flame of hope rekindled in its gaze.
And then, the chains that held it shattered. They did not merely fall to the ground; they disintegrated into the air, as if they had never existed. The lion, now free, stood on the peak of a mountain, the wind blowing against its face.
In the distance, it saw an island. Without hesitation, the lion leapt into the ocean, facing the fierce waves that tried to divert it from its path. The water pushed it in all directions, disorienting it, but it did not stop. Even when it seemed the sea would overwhelm it, the lion persisted. Finally, upon reaching the shores of that distant island, the lion collapsed, exhausted, on the beach. The now calm waves gently bathed it as it regained its strength.
But as she approached, the beast's eyes abruptly opened, startling her and causing her to wake with a jolt. She had been forcibly awakened, a deep intuition alerting her that something important would happen if she hadn't. Sitting up in her bed, she murmured, trying to recall the dream.
"What kind of lion has blue eyes?" she asked herself, confused.
Her goddess seemed insistent on presenting her with strange dreams. Why not simply speak what she desired, instead of throwing her into this sea of mysteries? The "Saint" furrowed her brows, a slight irritation in her gaze. Previous dreams had been filled with disasters and long wars, but there were stories of how, in the past, saints received dreams that warned of a race called the "Æther." The idea had never crossed her mind until now, but the pope always reminded her that anything was possible.
Reflecting on the "Æther," her opinion was ambiguous. They were beings hunted relentlessly by the church, no matter where they hid. The reason behind this was obscure, but it was said this race originated from demons themselves, created to sow chaos in the world.
It's ironic to think that, despite her religion's aversion to this race, there were few records discussing their true nature, as if someone was determined to prevent people from knowing more about them.
"What should I do…?" the Saint murmured to herself, as strands of her white hair fell over her pale face.
She tried to recall details of the dream, such as the gorge where the lion was. For some reason, that place seemed strangely familiar, like a distant memory haunting her.
But then she remembered the lion's blue eyes. If she had focused a little more, anyone could see there was a hint of green in them. But that wasn't what caught her attention. "Did he see me?" For a moment, she felt as if it was the lion who had observed her.
"I guess I'll have to talk to Grandpa about this again…" The "Saint" muttered once more, as if on the verge of throwing a tantrum.