The footsteps drew inexorably closer to the chapel, accompanied by other sounds that chilled Aiden's blood - muffled groans, cries of distress, the rhythmic clacking of several pairs of wooden feet on the cobblestones.
- "Shit," Thomas whispered, gripping his club so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "We need to hide!"
Aiden looked frantically around them. The chapel didn't offer many options - the pews had been torn out, the confessionals destroyed. But he spotted a dark alcove on the side, where once stood a saint's statue, now reduced to dust.
- "There!" he breathed, pulling Thomas by the arm.
They slipped into the recess just as the chapel door opened completely. Aiden pressed his hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing, his heart beating so loudly he was sure it could be heard throughout the entire building.
What he saw froze him with horror.
Corvus entered first, and Aiden could finally see the Puppetmaster Scourge in all his terrible splendor. The man was tall, dressed in a long black coat that dragged on the ground, but what struck most was his mask, a dark leather raven's beak, adorned with engraved symbols, giving him the appearance of a plague doctor straight out of medieval nightmares. His eyes, visible through the slits in the mask, gleamed with an unhealthy light in the darkness.
But what followed was even worse.
Four puppets entered after him, and they were carrying something... or rather someone. Martha, Harold, and two other survivors Aiden recognized from the cellar. They were bound, gagged, their eyes wide with terror as they struggled weakly against their bonds.
No... Aiden felt his stomach turn. They found them. They found the hideout.
Beside him, Thomas stifled a groan of despair upon seeing his friends and neighbors thus captured. His fists clenched convulsively around his club.
Corvus advanced slowly into the nave, inspecting his workshop with the satisfaction of an artisan contemplating his work. Then, suddenly, he raised his head and spoke in a clear voice that echoed strangely in the desecrated sacred space:
- "In my dream, he was supposed to have already arrived... the boy with green eyes."
Aiden felt an icy shiver run down his spine. Corvus knew. Somehow, he knew Aiden was supposed to be there.
[ENCOUNTER WITH MAIN ANTAGONIST]
[PROGRESSION: 95%]
[VITAL FLAME - AWAKENING 75%]
This time, the sensation was so intense that Aiden almost cried out. His Vital Flame literally exploded in his chest, spreading burning heat throughout his entire body. He felt his senses sharpen to an almost painful level - he could hear the terrified heartbeats of the prisoners, smell the metallic scent of fear seeping from their pores, perceive magical auras with surgical precision.
And above all, he could see Corvus. Really see him.
The man hadn't been human for a long time. His aura was a maelstrom of stolen energies, a chaotic patchwork of dozens of different Vital Flames swirling around him like imprisoned ghosts. Aiden could distinguish each victim - their emotions, their memories, their personalities mixed into a terrifying psychic mush that should have driven anyone mad.
But Corvus held on, sustained by his sick obsession and absolute conviction that he was doing good.
Thomas, beside him, trembled with contained rage. His eyes were fixed on Martha, who was gagged and tied to one of the work tables. The elderly woman looked around with absolute terror, perfectly understanding what awaited her.
He's going to go, Aiden realized. He's going to leave our hiding place to try to save them.
And indeed, Thomas was already beginning to move, his muscles tensing to leap toward the prisoners. Aiden had only a fraction of a second to react.
He threw himself at Thomas, pressing all his weight against the old man to prevent him from leaving the alcove. They struggled silently, Thomas trying to break free, Aiden clinging to him with all his strength.
No! he mouthed silently. Not now!
Thomas looked at him with fury mixed with despair. In his eyes, Aiden could read a stinging reproach: It's your fault. It's because you convinced me to leave that they were captured.
And he wasn't wrong. If Aiden hadn't left, if Thomas had stayed in the cellar to protect the others, maybe...
No, Aiden told himself firmly. Think. The puppets were already watching them. They would have found them eventually anyway. At least now, we're free to act.
He brought his lips to Thomas's ear and whispered so low it was barely audible:
- "We need a plan. For now, let's observe and find the opportunity."
Thomas looked at him for a long time, his fists still clenched, his jaw tight with anger. But finally, he nodded imperceptibly. He understood that rushing now would be equivalent to suicide.
Corvus, meanwhile, had approached his prisoners. He examined them one by one with the attention of a connoisseur evaluating works of art.
- "My dear friends," he said in a surprisingly soft voice, almost paternal. "I know you're afraid. That's normal. All those I've helped before you were afraid at first."
He gently caressed Martha's forehead, who struggled weakly against her bonds.
-"But you'll see, my dear lady. In a few moments, all your suffering will disappear. Never again will you have back pain. Never again will you cry over the loss of a loved one. Never again will you know hunger, thirst, illness, old age..."
His voice took on an exalted, almost religious intonation.
- "You will become perfect. Eternal. And you will thank me for this gift."
He moved toward the desecrated altar and took the special vial Aiden had noticed earlier.
- "But first," he continued, addressing the void, "I'm waiting for someone. A very special young man who will give me what I need to bring my work to its completion."
He raised the vial toward the chapel's vault, like a priest brandishing a chalice.
- "Élara, my darling, daddy will soon be able to bring you back. This time, forever."
Aiden felt his throat tighten. Corvus wasn't just mad - he was beyond any possible redemption. His father's pain had metastasized into something so perverted, so monstrous, that even pity became impossible.
And yet, he had to be stopped. For Martha, for Harold, for all the villagers already transformed, and for all those who could be his next victims.
But how? Aiden looked around, evaluating their options. Corvus was surrounded by four puppets, and he possessed the Vital Flames of dozens of people. Thomas and he were only two men with pathetic weapons.
I need to think, he told himself. There has to be a way. In all stories, there's always a way.
That's when an idea came to him. Dangerous, crazy, but perhaps their only chance.
He leaned toward Thomas again and whispered:
- "I have a plan. But you're not going to like it."