Leonard sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the small, twisted pendant that now lay on the table in front of him. The dark sigil—so familiar, so haunting. It was the same one that had appeared in his dreams, the one that had been carved into the stone altar, and now it was in front of him, its cold presence seeming to grow heavier with each passing second.
Rogan watched him closely, his sharp gaze not leaving Leonard's face. The flickering oil lamp beside them cast long, grotesque shadows against the stone walls, as though the very room itself was holding its breath.
"You know this symbol, don't you, Mr. Leonard?" Rogan's voice was low, almost predatory.
The air in the room thickened. Leonard's heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel the cold sweat trickling down his spine. His fingers curled into fists on the table, the raw tension in his body palpable. How could he lie? The symbol had been haunting him, a constant presence in his dreams, taunting him with its meaning. It wasn't something he could easily dismiss. But if he told the truth—if he revealed even the smallest part of it—he feared it would all come crashing down.
"I don't," Leonard said, his voice wavering just slightly. "I've never seen it before."
Rogan studied him for a long moment, his silence almost suffocating. The older man seemed to be evaluating every word, every slight movement in Leonard's posture. Finally, Rogan spoke, his tone flat and disinterested.
"Well, I suppose we'll see soon enough."
The words hung in the air like a dark omen. Leonard's stomach twisted into knots, the pressure of the situation weighing him down as if the walls themselves were closing in. He could feel the eyes of the officer on him, could sense the suspicion radiating from every corner of the room.
Before he could form another thought, the door to the chamber creaked open. Leonard's head snapped toward the sound, and a tall figure stepped into the room. The light from the oil lamps flickered across her polished armor, casting her in an almost ethereal glow.
Maria Saintword.
She was younger than Leonard had expected, but there was an undeniable authority in the way she carried herself. A knight of the Saint Order, one of the Empire's most revered institutions. The sun-embossed crest on her chest gleamed in the dim light, and she wore a rapier at her side, its hilt adorned with intricate designs. Her revolver was holstered, but it was still within easy reach. Her presence was commanding, cold, yet strangely captivating.
Her gaze swept over the room before settling on Leonard. There was no warmth in her eyes, only a calculated intensity.
"Mr. Leonard Astreus," she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority. "I'm Maria Saintword, Knight of the Saint Order, and I have questions regarding your involvement with the cult, the bodies at the altar, and your… survival."
Leonard froze. The sight of her—the coolness in her demeanor—sent a shiver down his spine. Her gaze lingered on him, studying him as if he were a puzzle she intended to solve.
The cold sweat on his brow intensified. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. The presence of this Saintess was oppressive, filling the room with a palpable tension that made it hard to breathe.
"You've been questioned about the ritual," she continued, her tone unwavering. "We found evidence of your involvement, and yet, you are still alive. How do you explain that?"
Leonard's mind raced. His thoughts swirled in a vortex of confusion and fear. The voice inside his head—the Abyss Walker—was growing louder, reminding him of the consequences of revealing the truth. You must remain silent. They will never understand.
His chest tightened, and he could feel the pressure building in his skull. No one can know. The words echoed in his mind, reverberating through his body like a warning bell.
"I don't know how I survived," Leonard said quickly, his voice hoarse. "I… I was just caught in the middle of something I don't understand. I woke up, and everything was already… happening."
Maria stepped closer, her expression unchanging. Her eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if searching for any trace of deception.
"You don't understand?" Her voice was colder now, her tone cutting. "Then explain why you were found in a room full of corpses. Explain why your name is linked to a ritual that could have brought about the return of an ancient god."
Leonard's stomach churned. He wanted to shout, to scream that he had nothing to do with it, but the words felt lodged in his throat. He could feel the oppressive weight of his new identity crushing him, the secret of the Abyss Walker too dangerous to speak aloud.
"I… I don't know," he said again, his voice trembling. "I… was just… in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Maria studied him carefully, her gaze unwavering. She seemed to weigh his words, her expression unreadable.
"I believe you," she said after a long pause, her tone softer but no less stern. "But the truth has a way of unraveling. And when it does, we'll be watching."
Leonard's heart skipped a beat. What does she mean by that?
Before he could respond, Maria turned to Rogan. "We need to take further action. The evidence is clear, but we still need more information. We'll need to investigate the pendant and see where it leads us. Perhaps it's time we visit the altar."
Rogan nodded curtly. "Understood."
Leonard's mind reeled. The pendant—his connection to the cult—was only the beginning. If they went to the altar, if they uncovered the truth behind it, there was no telling what might happen.
As Maria and Rogan exited the room, the door creaking shut behind them, Leonard was left alone again, his heart racing. The silence was deafening. The walls seemed to close in on him, the shadows dancing like whispers.
The words of the Abyss Walker echoed once again, cold and final.
Do not tell them. You are not like them. You must protect the secret.
Leonard clutched his hands into fists. The weight of the burden was unbearable, and yet, there was no turning back now. Something darker had awoken within him. Something ancient.
And he would have to face it alone.