Kaelis climbed the silent steps with firm yet cautious strides. Each stair creaked beneath his weight, as if protesting his presence. Shadows swallowed everything around him, and the air grew heavy, charged with an invisible electricity. The sound of his breathing echoed off the stone walls, becoming more ragged as he neared the upper floor. Within minutes, he reached the hall — a vast, ancient space cloaked in sepulchral silence. The moment he crossed the threshold, darkness fell upon him like a living, crushing curtain.
He no longer thought — there was no room for thought. He simply moved forward, guided by a will that did not seem his own. The darkness, once oppressive, now felt like a silent companion. It no longer frightened him; it had become a mantle he wore with resignation.
Then came the burning.
Without warning, a searing heat spread across his wrists and neck, as though live embers had been pressed directly to his skin. Chains of light burst forth from the void, like living serpents forged of sacred flame, and coiled violently around his arms and throat. They were shackles, but not of metal — they were made of pure energy, divine intent.
He screamed.
But it was no ordinary scream. It was the sound of a soul being torn apart, the echo of an ancient torment. The pain was not physical — not something that time could heal. It was deeper. It was merciless. The light did not burn his flesh… it devoured what defined him within.
Kaelis felt himself unraveling. Every fiber of his spirit seemed to separate from his body, as if he were being stripped of his very essence. The pain was total. Absolute. Without beginning or end.
His skin tingled as though set aflame, yet no wound appeared. No drop of blood stained his body. Only suffering remained.
Pure agony.
His body was lifted, suspended like a puppet by the chains.
The Cathedral vanished around him, dissolving like mist on the wind. Now there was only the void — a dark, infinite, silent expanse. Here, time did not flow. Air did not stir. The world was suspended in unmoving eternity.
And the silence… the silence was heavier than any scream.
Then, she appeared.
From the depths of the abyss, a silhouette took form. Tall, slender, bearing a presence that was neither male nor female — only… ancient.
The figure wore ceremonial garments in tatters, like remnants of a sacred mantle eroded by centuries — relics of a forgotten faith. Its footsteps made no sound, but each movement radiated an inhuman authority.
Its face was hidden behind a mask of shattered mirrors, each shard reflecting grotesque distortions of Kaelis — images of himself crying, screaming, fleeing from something unseen yet familiar.
In its hand, it held a weapon.
A whip forged from words, letters, and shifting runes — ancient symbols, alive, swirling in chaotic spirals. The runes were sharp as blades, glowing with a spectral light. The whip moved on its own, pulsing with the rhythm of some forgotten ritual.
Without warning, the first strike landed.
It did not hit flesh — it passed through Kaelis's chest like a silent thunderclap, tearing into something that was not physical. A soundless pain, deafening in its intensity.
"Deep down… you feel ashamed to love."
A golden rune bloomed on his collarbone, radiating sharp pain — physical and emotional all at once. It was a torment that reached into layers of the soul Kaelis had never known existed.
Another strike.
"Even in the midst of pain, you believe you are unworthy of being the chosen one."
And another.
"You desire justice… but you hunger for vengeance with equal fervor."
And another.
"You dream of saving… but you also dream of punishing."
Each word was a blade. Each blade left a glowing scar upon his skin — incandescent runes that told a silent story made of truths never spoken.
And then, he saw.
He saw himself curled up, crying silently in his room so his parents wouldn't worry. He saw himself turning away from injustice, pretending not to notice — just to avoid confronting the bully. He saw himself frozen in front of another's suffering — not from indifference, but from fear. He saw the love he once felt for a girl — and the cowardly silence he chose instead of truth.
He saw himself completely.
And he hated what he saw.
Coward.
Hypocrite.
The runes carved into his skin allowed no lies. They were the confession of a naked soul.
The chains of light tightened one last time. But now, there was no pain. There was only acceptance.
When the final blow landed, Kaelis did not scream. He simply breathed — slow and deep, like someone returning to life after nearly drowning.
From his wounds, no blood poured. A golden glow flowed, surrounded by a black mist that dripped like living, pulsing ink.
It was not blood.
It was essence.
His body had changed. He was no longer the same. Each rune, a truth embraced. Each pain, a part of himself understood.
The masked figure stepped closer in silence and placed a hand upon his chest.
"True power is born from truth… and truth, from pain."
The mask crumbled into ash, carried away by a wind that did not blow.
And for an instant… Kaelis saw his own face.
The creature vanished, dissolved into shadows.
The chains fell with a final, dry clang.
The runes burned one last time, then fused into his skin like eternal tattoos — marks of rebirth.
The void began to dissolve.
The walls of the Cathedral rebuilt themselves around him, stone by stone, as though they had never crumbled.
Before him, an altar rose in silence — solemn and imposing.
Kaelis staggered — his muscles trembled, his body cried out for rest. But he did not fall.
Something inside him had awakened.
Something deeper than strength.
Vaster than memory.
Awareness.
Now, he knew his cracks — and because of that, he was beginning to understand what it meant to be human.
Even if, in that moment…
Kaelis had left a part of his humanity behind.