Inside an old church illuminated by the flames burning torches, there was a row of benches.
Some people sat, however, praying.
Others knelt before faceless angelic sculptures, praying to them.
The same angelic figures had their hands covering their faces.
The church inside was artistically detailed. Drawings on the walls:
Some drawings had inscriptions beside them in the language of the great ancient, Vornesca.
In front of the drawings stood a young man, a tall figure.
About 1.78 meters tall, he appeared to be 17 years old. He wore formal clothes with a cloak draped over his shoulders and a cane in his right hand. His medium dark brown hair covered one of his eyes, and his brown eyes were accompanied by a pointed chin, giving him an academic air.
He read the inscriptions in his mind:
He runs his eyes over the words carved into the stones, his voice a reverent whisper.
"Here it speaks of kings and conquests, of martyrs and prophecies. Here are the records of wars and ascensions, of falls and promises. Each line tells me something I've seen before, even though I've never lived it. Why is it like this? Why does time seem like a wheel, turning and turning, always returning to the same point, just with new names and faces?"
He pauses, observing a carved figure beside the words, depicting a man crowned with light, wearing a cloak, surrounded by followers. He then whispers,
"Elvorian."
He walks along the wall, where the inscriptions continue, describing past eras.
"These words... they speak of cycles. The first savior of all was sacrificed. The second had the same fate as the first. The third's whereabouts are unknown. The fourth met the same fate as the third. The fifth will still be born, until the end of the cycle of destiny;
Wars, famines, plagues, prejudice. History will repeat itself as it always has, yet the world will continue expanding.
Many humans await a savior, while others wish to remain submissive to their politicians, repeating, again and again, their mistakes.
We always choose to repeat the same errors, believing that someone or something external will free us from ourselves."
His fingers trace a particular phrase, engraved in a nearly forgotten language.
"'When the promised one walks among us, light and shadow will meet, and the world will be remade.' Light and shadow... order and chaos, creation and destruction."
He steps back from the wall, crossing his arms as he contemplates the altar in the center of the church.
He observes the statues and the drawings of flower spirals and hands on the ceiling.
"Perhaps the predestined one is not a man, nor a god. Perhaps the predestined one is the idea that we can be better. And perhaps, just perhaps, this idea must be born within each of us before we can truly live and write a new history."
Looking one last time at the ancient scriptures, he leaves.
The church was large enough to accommodate a considerable number of people; The young man walked to the gates of the church, the same white and visually striking gates.
He pushes them open with ease, and finally steps into the street.
He descends a few steps, and the city street becomes visible: the city of Altharion, the golden city.
"Well, unfortunately, only in name." the young man thinks.
Walking for a few seconds, he encounters a rather peculiar scene, not so much.
A man lying on the ground, about 25 years old, with black hair tipped with white strands, wearing a white yukata with blue patterns, and a black shirt underneath.
Finally, the young man wore black pants and boots, and he carried a belt holding a sword.
"Let me tell you; it's not truly pleasant to lie on the ground, it's harmful to human bones, do you have this knowledge?"
The young man says, smiling.
"Meditation is the strength of every human being, in any case, I've been waiting for you, Lucian."
Pausing and rising from the ground, he continues: "It's not really pleasant to stay here, you took too long."
Lucian genuinely thinks: 'And you waited here.' but keeps the thought to himself.
"Anyway, thanks, Kael. We got what we intended, we'll return."
Kaelion, the man in the yukata, stands up, and as they walk side by side, Kael asks:
"So, was there any relevant information or any clue?"
Pausing and thinking, Lucian responds: "Not exactly, just the history we already know. On the other hand, the sculptures I observed inside the church were indeed the same in the case."
Continuing, he says: "We can confirm that it's something religious or some fanatic. This is my thesis."
Kaelion simply absorbs the information, walking for some time, observing the city, and they reach the city center.
It could be said that this was the city's tourist point.
A large fountain in the city center, with some people selling their products in stalls – in short, commerce.
It wasn't an uncommon sight, in fact, it was natural in any world with a hierarchical and political system.
The fountain spraying crystal-clear water against the air; stalls, white asphalt streets, giving the idea of being divine.
A common sight on this side of the city.
Passing through the center of the city and ignoring constant offers and calls.
They reach a specific building; not too flashy, it wasn't an exaggeration to say it was simply there, but it was notable.
The building had three floors.
Black windows, but not so black as to prevent seeing what was happening inside.
There was a sign with something written on the building: "Investigation Agency."
Lucian and Kaelion enter the building, and Kaelion pushes open the door.