"Here is the worship hall… and beyond that is the library. To the east, you'll find the prayer room," Ilyra explained, describing each place thoroughly as they walked through the halls.
Serena listened carefully, taking in every detail. Her gaze eventually settled on a row of statues standing in quiet reverence.
"Who are they?" she asked.
Ilyra followed her gaze. "They are the devoted followers of Goddess Eirene."
Serena studied the statues for a moment longer before continuing on.
By the time their tour came to an end, the sun had already begun to sink into the western horizon, casting golden light across the grand halls.
Serena gave a small nod. "Thank you, Ilyra."
With her usual bright smile, Ilyra replied, "I should be the one thanking you, Dowager Duchess."
Then she tilted her head slightly. "What about your prayer?"
Serena exhaled softly. "I am far too exhausted today. I will return tomorrow."
"Well then," she added, offering a faint smile, "let us part ways here."
Serena wrote a detailed letter to Lucas, informing him of her stay in Maryland and everything she had observed at the Church so far.
For the next few days, works at the villa kept her occupied, leaving her unable to return to the Church.
When she finally did, the weather had changed. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Dark clouds stretched across the sky, casting the entire place in a somber shade.
Even so, Serena stood before the Church once again.
"Dowager Duchess!" Antony called out as soon as he saw her. "Thank goodness you came. I wasn't able to give you a proper tour that day. How about I take you to the prayer room today?"
Serena gave a small nod. "Very well. Please lead the way."
As they walked through the corridors, Serena spoke casually. "I believe I saw a statue hidden beneath a cover the last time I visited. Who was it?"
Antony thought for a moment before answering. "Oh… that was Goddess Azalea."
"Azalea?"
"Yes. While Eirene is the Goddess of Peace, Azalea is the Goddess of Prosperity."
Serena frowned slightly. "Then why does the Church have the statue of another goddess?"
Antony glanced around before lowering his voice. "I heard High Priest Fenrir commissioned it as a tribute to Goddess Azalea."
"But doesn't he serve another goddess?" Serena asked, confusion clear in her tone.
Antony lowered his voice even further. "Yes… and no one truly knows the reason."
He hesitated before continuing. "Do you know about the Pope?"
"Yes. Pope Fredrick. He has been in a coma for over a year now."
Antony nodded. "That's right. He had a fierce argument with High Priest Fenrir over that statue. High Priest Fenrir claimed that if people pray to Goddess Eirene, then why should they not also pray to Goddess Azalea?"
Antony let out a quiet sigh. "After that day, they never spoke again. Soon after, the Pope fell into a coma while performing a sacred ritual."
He glanced toward the covered statue in the distance. "That is why High Priest Fenrir covered it… but he never intended to remove it."
"Is that so…" Serena replied quietly.
Antony stopped and gestured ahead. "Look, we are here. I shall leave you now. May the blessing of the Goddess be with you."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Serena stepped into the prayer room, her gaze moving carefully across the space. At first glance, everything seemed ordinary—candles, polished floors, sacred symbols. Yet something soon caught her attention.
A bookshelf stood against the wall.
A bookshelf in a prayer room was not unusual in itself, but there was something about it that felt… out of place.
She approached it and ran her fingers along the spines of the books. Then she noticed one book that looked different from the others.
The moment she touched it; a sharp click echoed through the room.
Serena froze as the bookshelf shifted aside, revealing a hidden doorway behind it.
A chill ran down her spine.
Still, gathering her courage, she stepped inside and carefully descended the dark staircase.
At the bottom, she found herself before a single door.
She pushed it open slowly—
And a sudden foul stench struck her so hard she nearly staggered back.
Serena's breath caught in her throat as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Bodies.
Dozens of children's bodies lay scattered across the floor.
Her hand flew to her mouth as horror gripped her entire being.
At the centre of the room stood an altar, stained with layers of dried, darkened blood.
Trembling, Serena knelt beside the nearest child and pressed trembling fingers to the neck.
Nothing.
No pulse.
Dead.
Every single one of them.
The suffocating stench came from their rotting bodies.