The tunnel exit was hidden behind a waterfall that cascaded down the mountain's face. Kael stepped through the icy curtain, the water parting around him like liquid glass. His bare feet sank into the mossy earth as he emerged into dawn's pale light, his golden-veined skin drinking in the morning sun after weeks in the underground darkness.
Lilith materialized beside him, her shadow stretching long across the dewy grass. "Look," she murmured, pointing down the slope.
Below them, White Spire City sprawled across the valley like a sleeping giant. The Silverrun River divided it into seven districts, each connected by arched bridges that glowed faintly in the rising sun. At the city's heart stood the Celestial Cathedral - its seven spires piercing the low-hanging clouds, their golden tips burning with reflected dawn light. Even from this distance, Kael could hear the faint echo of matins bells calling the faithful to morning prayer.
The golden child stepped forward, his brass-like skin shimmering in the light. Before their eyes, his form shifted - the metallic sheen faded to peach-pale flesh, his burning eyes dimmed to an ordinary brown. Only when he smiled did the illusion crack, revealing the needle-thin teeth beneath.
"Convincing enough?" he asked in a perfect imitation of a choirboy's sweet, innocent tones.
Kael flexed his hands, watching the golden light ripple beneath his translucent skin. A sparrow landed on a nearby branch, cocking its head at the strange figures. When its beady black eyes met Kael's, the bird stiffened mid-chirp and dropped like a stone to the forest floor.
Lilith produced three acolyte robes from the shadows that clung to her form. "The city gates open at dawn," she said, tossing one to Kael. "We enter as seminary students returning from pilgrimage in the northern provinces."
The scratchy wool chafed against Kael's newly sensitive skin as they dressed. The golden child swung a censer they'd taken from a murdered acolyte, the cloying sweet smoke helping to mask their unnatural scents.
The descent took nearly an hour. With each step downward, Kael's awareness expanded, his senses stretching like waking limbs:
He could smell the baker already kneading dough for the day's bread, the man's mind heavy with unpaid debts.
The rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer rang painfully clear, each strike accompanied by the scent of burning metal and the man's aching muscles.
Children's laughter from the city walls struck his ears like shattering glass, each giggle carrying its own unique emotional resonance.
At the main gate, two guards in silver-chased armor stood watch, their poleaxes gleaming in the morning light. The golden child bounded ahead, his censer swinging cheerfully.
"Blessings of the Sevenfold Divinity!" he called out in a bright, clear voice, flashing their stolen pendant. "We bring reports from the northern parishes!"
The older guard, his face scarred from some long-ago battle, frowned down at them. "Dawn's barely broken, lads. What's your hurry?"
"The righteous rise with the sun, brother," the boy replied with practiced piety, his lowered eyes hiding their molten gold glint.
As the heavy gates creaked open, Kael's hunger flared to life. The concentrated life energy of thousands pulsed from within those walls, calling to him. His golden veins burned brighter in response, the light nearly visible through the rough-spun robe.
Lilith's claws dug warningly into his arm. "Control yourself," she hissed under her breath. "The true feast awaits in the Cathedral's heart."
They moved through the awakening city streets:
Past market stalls where vendors arranged autumn squash and late-season apples in careful pyramids.
Through narrow alleys where beggars stirred in their makeshift shelters, their dreams still clinging to them like cobwebs.
Beneath arched bridges where washerwomen already beat laundry against smooth stones, their gossip carrying over the rushing water.
At the Cathedral's marble steps, two senior acolytes stood guard in their spotless white robes. The golden child bowed his head in perfect imitation of humility.
"Brothers, we bring urgent word from Elder Casmir," he announced, his voice trembling with just the right amount of youthful earnestness.
The taller guard, his face all sharp angles and suspicion, narrowed his eyes. "Elder Casmir resides at Eastcliff Monastery this month."
A heartbeat's pause. Then the boy looked up, his eyes flashing molten gold. "Does he?"
The guards' faces went slack, their pupils dilating unnaturally. Without another word, they stepped aside, the massive oak doors swinging open of their own accord.
Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of beeswax and old stone. Morning light streamed through stained glass windows, painting the nave in fractured patterns of ruby red and sapphire blue. Somewhere in the Cathedral's depths, a choir began their morning hymn - the pure tones of boy sopranos trembling through the vaulted ceilings.
Kael's hunger roared to life as his enhanced senses detected them all:
Dozens of pure, devout hearts beating in perfect rhythm during prayer.
Hundreds of years' worth of blind faith concentrated in hallowed halls.
And beneath it all, something vast and ancient stirring in the crypts below, its presence like a physical weight against Kael's consciousness.
The golden child's disguise melted away, his grin stretching far too wide for any human face. "Shall we begin?" he asked, his voice now layered with something deeper and far more terrible.
From the shadows of a nearby confessional, a figure emerged - High Inquisitor Vareth, his gilded mask cracked down the middle from their last encounter, the relic in his throat pulsing with ominous light.
"I've been expecting you," he rasped, drawing a sword that burst into holy flames with a sound like screaming angels.
Above them, the choir reached the crescendo of their hymn just as Kael stepped forward, golden light erupting from his hands to meet the Inquisitor's challenge.