Part I — "Saints of Stone"
The Outer Ward was silent.
Not peaceful—
the silence was too thick, too heavy, too expectant.
The kind of silence that smothered sound before it could escape.
Evin stepped into the vast chamber, breath catching in his throat.
Rows of towering white figures lined each side.
Statues.
Hundreds.
No—thousands.
Lifelike.
Detailed.
Horrifying in their precision.
Stone faces frozen in expressions that weren't serene, as doctrine taught—
but strained, eyes wide, mouths half-open.
As if they had been calling out when the stone claimed them.
Evin swallowed hard.
His voice scraped out, hoarse:
"…What are these?"
The Bishop's soft footsteps echoed behind him.
She didn't hide her approach.
She didn't need to.
Her presence was enough to make the shadows retreat against Evin's will, trembling.
She stepped to his side without fear.
"Devotion," she said gently.
Evin stiffened.
The Bishop clasped her hands behind her back, her expression one of quiet sorrow.
"These are the faithful," she said. "Those who embraced purification."
Evin stared at her, incredulous. "Purification?"
She nodded serenely.
"A sacred rite. A blessing. A release from sorrow."
Evin shook his head. "They look terrified—"
"They looked terrified," the Bishop corrected softly. "In life. Before they accepted peace."
She walked slowly along the nearest row of statues, brushing her fingers along a stone cheek with something almost tender.
"When the soul is damaged," she continued, "it becomes dangerous. To the self. To others. To the Veil."
She looked back at Evin with calm, sympathetic eyes.
"You have seen what remnants become when left to fester."
Evin flinched.
The Bishop moved closer, voice dropping to a soft murmur.
"These people chose peace. They chose to let go of pain. They surrendered their grief, their fear, their memories to the cleansing."
She touched her chest delicately.
"And they found stillness."
Evin's stomach twisted. "Rell didn't turn to stone."
The Bishop's expression did not change—
but the faintest note of pity bled into her eyes.
"No, Evin."
She stepped closer.
"Rell resisted."
Evin felt the Veil inside him convulse violently.
The Bishop continued, voice lilting like a lullaby.
"He clung to his grief. He clung to you. And in doing so, he made himself vulnerable."
She lifted her hand, fingers hovering inches from Evin's shoulder.
"And so he was unmade."
A tremor ran through him.
The remnants inside him screamed.
The Bishop frowned gently.
"Do not blame yourself," she whispered. "Some souls cannot bear the weight of their own devotion. They collapse under the strain."
Evin's breath cracked. "He didn't choose that!"
"Didn't he?" the Bishop asked softly. "He followed you everywhere. Protected you. Worshipped you. Loved you to the point of death."
She leaned closer, her voice a cool breath in his ear.
"And love, Evin Veylan, is the most dangerous burden of all."
Evin's jaw clenched so hard pain shot up his teeth.
The Bishop stepped back, robes whispering as she gestured to the statues.
"These are the souls who chose the safer path. The wiser path. They embraced stillness. Peace."
She smiled—so soft, so gentle, it was almost maternal.
"Unlike Rell, they did not shatter."
Evin wanted to scream at her.
Strike her.
Collapse.
But his voice died in his throat.
Because suddenly—
the nearest statue turned its eyes.
Not much.
Not a full movement.
Just a shift.
A flicker.
Stone pupils tracking him.
Evin staggered backward, breath strangling.
"D-did you see that?!" he gasped.
The Bishop turned her head calmly.
"See what?"
The statue's head returned to its previous position—silent, still.
Evin's pulse thundered.
He stepped closer the statue, hands shaking.
He reached out and touched its cheek.
Cold.
Solid.
Lifeless.
The Bishop's voice curled behind him:
"They are gone, Evin. Do not give yourself false hope."
Evin stared at the stone face.
And the stone face—
blinked.
Just once.
Quick.
Subtle.
Wrong.
Evin stumbled backward so hard he hit the floor.
He didn't hear the Bishop step toward him.
He only felt her presence:
"I know grief makes the mind see ghosts where none exist."
She reached down with a calm, steady hand.
"Let me help you carry it."
Something snapped in Evin's mind.
A pressure burst behind his eyes.
And the world tilted.