Aiden and Thomas progressed slowly through the foggy streets, their steps muffled by the thick mist that seemed to absorb all sounds. Thomas walked slightly behind, his club in hand, scrutinizing each shadow with the vigilance of a man who had learned at his own expense that death could emerge from anywhere.
- "Where are we going?" he whispered after several minutes of silent walking.
Aiden consulted the crumpled map, trying to orient himself in this labyrinth of identical streets.
- "The old chapel," he replied in a low voice. "According to your map, it's marked as an important place. And Corvus mentioned in his journal that he was looking for... sacred places for his experiments."
Thomas grimaced.
- "The chapel... It's been abandoned for years. Since the priest left, no one goes there anymore. If Corvus is using it for his horrors..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but Aiden understood. A place that had once been consecrated to good, transformed into a laboratory of evil - there was something particularly repugnant about this idea.
They continued their progression, carefully avoiding the puppet patrols that Aiden's experience now allowed him to detect thanks to his perception of magical auras. Thomas looked at him with a mixture of admiration and perplexity each time he guided them to circumvent an invisible danger.
- "How do you do that?" he finally asked. "You sense their presence before we even see them."
Aiden hesitated. He couldn't speak about his magical abilities, but perhaps he could find a plausible explanation.
- "I have... I think I've developed a sort of instinct. After my first escape, I learned to recognize the signs. The way the fog moves, the little sounds..."
It wasn't completely false, even if it wasn't the whole truth. Thomas nodded, seeming to accept this explanation.
After an hour of cautious walking, they arrived before a building more imposing than the others. Even in the darkness of the fog, Aiden could distinguish the characteristic silhouette of a chapel - the pointed roof topped with a twisted cross, the tall Gothic windows with broken glass, the massive wooden portal half-open like a gaping mouth.
But something emanated from the edifice that chilled Aiden's blood. His perception of magical auras revealed to him a concentration of dark energy so intense that it made him nauseous. This place had been deeply corrupted.
- "My God..." murmured Thomas upon seeing the state of the chapel. "What has he done to it?"
The stone walls were covered with carved symbols, similar to those Aiden had seen in the inn but much more numerous and complex. They seemed to pulse with a reddish glow in the darkness, creating a hypnotic and unhealthy pattern.
- "Maybe we should turn back," whispered Thomas, his voice betraying a fear he was trying to hide.
But Aiden knew they had to enter. He felt that this place contained crucial answers, pieces of the puzzle he absolutely had to discover.
- "No," he said firmly. "This is where we're going to understand what's really happening."
He gently pushed the portal, which opened with a sinister creak. The interior of the chapel was plunged in almost total darkness, barely pierced by the unhealthy glow of the symbols carved on the walls.
What they discovered took their breath away.
The old nave had been transformed into an immense workshop. The wooden benches had been torn out and replaced by work tables on which disturbing tools were aligned - saws, chisels, oversized needles, vials of unknown substances. But the most troubling were the dozens of partially assembled mannequins that littered the space.
Puppet bodies in the process of being manufactured, some possessing only a torso and a head, others almost complete, missing only the final details. All had that mechanical and cold perfection that characterized Corvus's creations.
- "He makes them here," whispered Aiden, horrified. "This is his main workshop."
Thomas approached one of the tables and examined the tools.
- "Look at this," he said, pointing to a particularly sinister instrument. "It looks like... it looks like he sculpts directly in human bone."
Aiden preferred not to look too closely. He headed toward the choir of the old chapel, where the altar once stood. What he discovered there made him recoil in horror.
The stone altar had been transformed into a sort of operating table. Leather straps were fixed to its surface, and all around, channels carved in the stone allowed liquids to flow toward metal basins. But the most terrifying were the dark stains that spotted the stone - stains that Aiden preferred not to identify.
- "Thomas," he called in a strangled voice. "You need to see this."
The old man approached and turned pale upon discovering the profaned altar.
- "My God... this is where he transforms them. This is where he steals their souls."
Aiden nodded, fighting against the nausea rising within him. But he had to continue searching, understanding. He went around the altar and discovered something that chilled his blood.
On the wall behind the altar, where once there was probably a statue of a saint or a crucifix, Corvus had hung something quite different. A portrait painted with obsessive care - that of a little girl with innocent eyes and curly hair, holding in her arms a doll that resembled her.
Elara. His dead daughter.
But that wasn't all. Around the portrait, arranged like offerings in a demonic sanctuary, dozens of miniature dolls were aligned. Each represented one of the transformed villagers, reproduced with troubling precision down to the smallest details.
- "He collects them," murmured Aiden. "Not just their souls. He makes miniature replicas of each of his victims."
Thomas approached the macabre wall, his face deformed by disgust and rage.
- "Look," he said in a white voice. "There, that's Jeanne the baker. And there... my God, that's my wife."
He was pointing to a doll with fine features and gray hair, dressed in a little blue dress identical to the one worn by Martha... no, not Martha. His wife, the one who had become a puppet.
- "Some are missing," Aiden suddenly noticed. "Look, there are empty spaces. Prepared spots for other dolls."
Thomas counted quickly.
- "Seven spaces. Exactly the number of survivors in our hideout."
A shiver ran through Aiden. Corvus had already prepared the placements for their "statues." He was so sure of his victory that he had already organized his little museum of horrors.
[MAJOR CLUE DISCOVERED: THE COLLECTION SANCTUARY]
[PROGRESSION: 75%]
[REWARD UNLOCKED: STRENGTH +2]
[VITAL FLAME - AWAKENING 40%]
The sensation was more intense than ever. Aiden felt his muscles firm up, his posture straighten. He was no longer the fragile kid who had arrived in this village - something within him was growing, strengthening with each discovery.
But with this strength also came a deeper understanding of the horror they were facing. Corvus wasn't just a monster - he was a deranged artist who saw his crimes as works of art. Each transformation was carefully planned, each victim had their place in his morbid collection.
- "We need to get out of here," whispered Thomas. "If he ever arrives..."
But Aiden was no longer listening. Something had just caught his attention - a detail he had almost missed in the horror of the spectacle. On the altar, beside the straps and basins, there was a small object he hadn't noticed at first glance.
A vial. But not like those he had seen in the forge. This one was different - larger, more complex, with delicate engravings on the glass and a cork adorned with mysterious symbols.
And it was empty.
- "Thomas," he called softly. "This vial... what do you think it's for?"
The old man approached and examined it.
- "It's more elaborate than the others. Maybe it's for... special victims?"
Aiden felt a shiver run down his spine. A special vial, prepared in advance, placed on the altar as if waiting...
For me, he realized. This vial, it's for my Vital Flame. He prepared it specially.
Corvus wasn't content with just planning the transformation of the last survivors. He had prepared something particular for Aiden, something that required a special container.
- "We're leaving," he said abruptly. "Now."
But as they headed toward the exit, a sound froze them in place. Footsteps. Slow, measured, approaching the chapel.
Corvus was returning.