In the heart of the Holy Empire of Aeloria, the continent of Philan's beacon of faith, the city of Lumora gleamed under the midday sun.
Its spires of white marble, etched with golden runes, pierced the azure sky, each one crowned with a statue of Goddess Aeloria, her arms outstretched, radiating light.
The Grand Basilica, the empire's spiritual core, dominated the city's central plaza, its dome shimmering like a pearl, its stained-glass windows casting rainbows across the cobblestone streets.
Pilgrims thronged the plaza, their robes of white and gold rustling as they knelt before the basilica's steps, murmuring prayers to the Goddess of Light, whose grace was said to flow through every stone of Lumora.
The air hummed with divine energy, a faint warmth that soothed the soul, but within the basilica's hallowed halls, a storm was brewing.
The Holy Empire of Aeloria was the center of Philan's devotion, a realm where faith in Aeloria governed every aspect of life.
The empire was a tapestry of provinces, each overseen by a complex hierarchy under the Pope, the highest figure, whose word was divine law.
Beneath him were the Cardinals, akin to dukes, each ruling a province with the weight of sacred authority.
Under them, Exarchs managed multiple archdioceses and territories, their stern gazes ensuring orthodoxy.
Archbishops governed individual archdioceses, while Bishops handled local administration, their cathedrals dotting the land.
Priors and Abbots led monasteries, sanctuaries of prayer and study, while High Priests and Priestesses oversaw cathedrals and city territories.
Below them, Clerics, Priests, and Deacons staffed the empire's spiritual machinery, with Initiates—eager trainees—forming the lowest rung, their eyes bright with dreams of serving Aeloria.
The military arm of the empire was equally structured, a bulwark against darkness. Beneath the Pope stood the Grand Inquisitor, a figure of dread and reverence, commanding the empire's crusades.
Under the Grand Inquisitor were the Crusader Marshals, each leading legions of Templar Commanders—elite knights like Caelan Herdos—who led orders such as the Lion Hearts.
At the base were the Holy Knights and Paladins, warriors blessed with divine power, their swords sworn to Aeloria's light.
This hierarchy, both spiritual and martial, was the empire's strength, a machine of faith that had stood for centuries, but today, it trembled with news that shook its foundations.
In the Holy Council Chamber, a vast hall within the Grand Basilica, the Pope and Cardinals gathered around a circular table of polished alabaster, its surface inlaid with golden sigils of Aeloria's crest—a radiant sun encircled by stars.
The chamber's walls were draped with tapestries depicting the Goddess's triumphs, her light banishing demons into shadow.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their prisms scattering light like divine sparks, and incense burned in silver censers, filling the air with a sweet, smoky haze.
The Pope, an elderly man with a flowing white beard and eyes sharp as a hawk's, sat at the table's head, his golden mitre glinting, his robes embroidered with threads that shimmered like liquid light.
The Cardinals, twelve in number, flanked him, their crimson robes a stark contrast to the chamber's pale glow, their faces a mix of wrinkles and wisdom.
The chamber buzzed with excitement, the Cardinals' voices overlapping as a High Priest, a wiry man with nervous hands, delivered the news that had reached Lumora by courier hawk at dawn.
"Your Holiness, Eminences," he said, bowing so low his forehead nearly grazed the floor, "the Spark of Aeloria, Saint Elshua, has been found alive! The Lion Hearts Knight Order, led by Templar Commander Caelan Herdos, discovered him in Eldenreach, hale and whole!"
The Pope's eyes widened, his gnarled hands gripping his staff, its crystal tip flaring with a soft glow.
"By Aeloria's grace!" he exclaimed, his voice quavering with joy.
"The Spark, lost these three years, returned to us? Oh, my old bones can dance again!"
He chuckled, a wheezy sound, and the Cardinals erupted in laughter, their stern facades cracking.
Cardinal Varnus, a portly man with a bulbous nose, slapped the table, his jowls quivering.
"Dance, Your Holiness? You'd topple the basilica with those creaky knees!" he teased, earning a playful glare from the Pope.
"Mind your tongue, Varnus, or I'll have you polishing Aeloria's statues for a month," the Pope retorted, wagging a finger.
"But truly, this is a miracle. The Spark, our divine conduit, lives! Tell us more, priest."
The High Priest, still bowed, stammered, "The Lion Hearts report he's safe, though… he claims amnesia, Your Holiness. He remembers little of his past, but his divine energy is unmistakable. The knights are protecting him in Eldenreach, preparing to escort him to Lumora."
Cardinal Lysara, a sharp-eyed woman with silver hair, leaned forward, her rings clinking against the table.
"Amnesia? Poor lamb, lost for three years, and now his memories are gone? Aeloria's light will guide him back, no doubt."
She sighed, then smirked at Varnus. "Unlike some, whose memories are lost to last night's wine."
Varnus spluttered, his face reddening. "I'll have you know, Lysara, that was sacramental wine, blessed by Aeloria herself!"
The Cardinals laughed again, the chamber's tension easing, their joy infectious. Even the Pope's lips twitched, though he raised a hand for silence.
"Enough, my friends," he said, his voice warm but firm.
"This is a day of rejoicing. The Spark's return will restore faith across Philan, especially after the monastery's fall. We must prepare a grand welcome—feasts, hymns, and a procession through Lumora. The people need to see their saint."
Cardinal Theron, a gaunt man with a perpetually sour expression, nodded slowly.
"Indeed, Your Holiness. The Holy See's retreat after Elshua's loss weakened our influence. His return could rally the provinces, even the northern heretics."
He paused, then added dryly, "Though I doubt Varnus's wine will help with that."
The chamber roared with laughter, Varnus throwing up his hands in mock despair.
"I'm surrounded by heathens!" he groaned, but his eyes twinkled.
The High Priest, still hovering, looked bewildered by the Cardinals' levity, but he dared not interrupt as they planned, their voices rising with ideas for Elshua's return.
The mirth died abruptly when the chamber's heavy oak doors swung open, admitting a second courier, a young Initiate with dust-streaked robes and wide eyes.
He knelt, clutching a sealed scroll, his breath ragged.
"Your Holiness, Eminences," he gasped, "urgent news from Eldenreach. A high demon has appeared, attacking the village outskirts. The Lion Hearts are engaged in battle and cannot escort the Spark to Lumora until the threat is neutralized."
The chamber fell silent, the incense's sweetness suddenly cloying. The Pope's face hardened, his staff's crystal dimming.
"A high demon?" he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "Now, when the Spark has returned? This is no coincidence."
Cardinal Lysara's rings clinked as she gripped the table, her silver hair catching the light.
"The demons have hunted the Spark before," she said, her voice tight. "The monastery's fall was their doing. They sense his light, even now."
Varnus's jowls sagged, his humor gone.
"The Lion Hearts are elite, but a high demon? That's beyond a single order, even one led by young Herdos. We can't risk the Spark again."
He glanced at the Pope, his eyes pleading. "Your Holiness, we must act."
Cardinal Theron's sour expression deepened, his fingers drumming the table.
"The Lion Hearts are newly formed, untested against such a foe. If they fail, the Spark…"
He trailed off, the unspoken loss hanging heavy. The Cardinals murmured, their earlier joy replaced by fear, their faith tested by the shadow of darkness.
The Pope stood, his robes rustling, his staff tapping the floor with a sharp crack.
"We will not lose the Spark again," he declared, his voice resonating with divine authority.
"Summon the Grand Inquisitor at once. This council will not sit idle while demons threaten Aeloria's light."
The High Priest scurried to obey, and within minutes, the Grand Inquisitor entered, a towering figure in black and gold armor, his face hidden behind a visored helm etched with Aeloria's sun.
His presence was a chill wind, his sword—a massive blade blessed by the Goddess—strapped across his back, its hilt glowing faintly.
The Cardinals straightened, even Varnus falling silent, as the Grand Inquisitor knelt before the Pope, his voice a deep rumble.
"Your Holiness, I am yours to command."
The Pope's eyes narrowed, his beard quivering with resolve.
"Grand Inquisitor Valdor, a high demon threatens the Spark of Aeloria in Eldenreach. The Lion Hearts, led by Templar Commander Herdos, are engaged, but they cannot prevail alone. This council demands action. What say you?"
Valdor rose, his helm's visor glinting as he surveyed the room.
"A high demon is a grave threat, Your Holiness. The Lion Hearts are valiant, but their numbers and experience are limited. I propose deploying multiple Inquisitors—seasoned warriors trained to slay such creatures. They will reinforce the Lion Hearts, secure the Spark, and purge the demon from Philan."
Cardinal Lysara nodded, her sharp eyes approving.
"Inquisitors are Aeloria's blades against darkness. How many can you spare, Valdor, and how soon can they reach Eldenreach?"
Valdor's voice was steady, precise.
"I can muster three Inquisitors—Cassian, Elara, and Gideon—each with a retinue of Holy Knights. They can depart by dusk, reaching Eldenreach in two days if they ride without rest. The demon will not escape their wrath."
Varnus rubbed his chin, his humor returning faintly.
"Two days? Let's hope young Herdos keeps that demon busy, or we'll be planning a funeral instead of a feast."
He winced as Lysara elbowed him, but his point lingered, the urgency pressing on the council.
Cardinal Theron's fingers stilled, his voice cold.
"And if the demon claims the Spark before they arrive? We cannot rely on hope alone. What of the Templar Commanders in nearby provinces? Can they reinforce the Lion Hearts?"
Valdor shook his head, his helm creaking.
"The nearest orders are days away, Eminence. The Inquisitors are our swiftest response. I will lead them myself to ensure success."
The chamber gasped, the Grand Inquisitor's personal involvement a rare and weighty commitment.
The Pope raised a hand, silencing the murmurs.
"So be it," he said, his voice resolute.
"Grand Inquisitor Valdor, you will lead Inquisitors Cassian, Elara, and Gideon to Eldenreach. Secure the Spark, destroy the demon, and bring Saint Elshua to Lumora. Aeloria's light must not falter."
He paused, his eyes softening.
"And tell young Herdos this old man expects him to keep the Spark safe until you arrive. He's a good lad, that one."
Valdor bowed, his armor clanking.
"It will be done, Your Holiness."
He turned, his cape swirling, and strode from the chamber, his presence leaving a chill in its wake.
The Cardinals exhaled, the tension easing slightly, but their faces remained grave, the specter of the demon looming over their plans.
The Pope sank back into his chair, his staff leaning against the table, its crystal dim.
"We have done what we can," he said, his voice weary.
"Now, we pray. Aeloria's light will guide the Spark, and our blades will guard him."
He glanced at Varnus, a faint smile breaking through.
"And you, Varnus, will save some of that wine for the Spark's welcome. He'll need it after this."
Varnus chuckled, the sound strained but genuine.
"For the Spark, I'll open the best cask, Your Holiness. Assuming Lysara doesn't drink it first."
Lysara rolled her eyes, and the chamber stirred with quiet laughter, a fragile defiance against the darkness.
Outside, Lumora's bells tolled, calling the faithful to midday prayer, their peals echoing across the city.
The Holy Empire of Aeloria, center of Philan's faith, stood ready to protect its saint, but the high demon's shadow stretched long, and the Spark's light would need to burn brighter than ever to survive.