Smoke curled from the shattered altars of the Ardent Veil. Once a place of divine worship and ceremony, it now reeked of rot and scorched incense. The prayers carved into its pillars had melted into twisted runes.
Kaien stood before one of the altars, the Abyss within him pulsing as if in rejection.
"It's all a lie," he muttered. "These sanctuaries... they were built on obedience, not truth."
Iria knelt beside him, brushing ash from a cracked sigil. "People bowed here thinking they were serving light. But the light was already blind."
Solryn approached, a frozen shard in his hand, pulled from the blood-soaked pool that once held the Veil's ceremonial water. "I found this. It's a relic—meant only to be wielded by a Commandment."
Kaien took it and stared at its gleam. Even in his grasp, it felt... hollow.
"We know at least one Commandment is still faithful," Iria said softly. "But where are they? Why stay hidden while this spreads?"
"Fear," Solryn answered. "Or guilt. Maybe they've seen what happened to the others."
A gust of wind swept through the temple, scattering ash across Kaien's boots.
Then a voice—low, gravelly—spoke from the ruined archway.
"Because standing alone against corruption requires more than faith. It demands truth… and truth comes at a cost."
A figure emerged, cloaked in battle-worn white. His sigil glowed faintly: Mercy.
Kaien stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "You're one of them."
The figure nodded. "I am. And I am not your enemy."