Orion crashed through the cathedral roof with Marie secured under his arm.

  For nearly a full minute, they descended in silence, engulfed by pitch-black waters. Only each other’s outlines remained visible in the dark.

  His expression was tense—far from relaxed—as his feet finally met the clean, blue carpet stretching in both directions beneath him.

  “…”

  Glaring down the corridor ahead, Orion gently set Marie on her feet.

  “Stay close. Don’t act rashly. Never stray too far,” he instructed, voice low and firm.

  “I know it’s not my place to say, Master,” Marie said, worry in her voice, “but… did something happen? The way we left was jarring, even for me. Wouldn’t it have been better to speak with Tetra before disappearing like that?”

  Orion turned to her, a shadow flickering in his eyes—something buried, restrained.

  “There was something. A vision is the only word I can use to describe it.”

  Marie listened attentively, nodding once.

  “It didn’t feel like a normal premonition,” he continued. “I've experienced those with Tetra. This… this felt like a warning. The moment I looked at that statue, something invaded my mind.”

  He grimaced slightly.

  “The images I saw were beyond disturbing. That’s why I need you to follow every order perfectly.”

  He gave a dry smile.

  “And as the perfect maid, I believe that’s within your expertise.”

  Marie bowed with theatrical grace, lifting her dress as if curtsying before royalty.

  “That is, in fact, on my resume. You are my Master. Your words are my command.”

  Orion allowed himself a small exhale and turned back toward the blackened hall ahead.

  “I’ll hold you to that. If I ever have to bring bad news to Olivia…”

  His voice trailed off, but the look on his face made Marie shiver at the thought.

  Just then, something unexpected echoed through the cathedral’s depth.

  A single, distant note rang out—an organ’s key pressed with solemn weight. It lingered, reverberating through the silent waters like a ripple in time.

  As the sound faded, the cathedral around them began to come alive.

  “…”

  Bioluminescent candles flickered to life, floating in the water like soft, drifting wisps. Their glow revealed black pillars stretching upward into endless darkness. The hole Orion had broken through was now swallowed by shadow.

  The red carpet beneath their feet extended forward, its velvet surface growing more visible with each passing flame.

  “I don’t like this,” Marie whispered. “Why do I feel… uneasy all of a sudden?”

  “You’re not alone.”

  Orion tilted his head upward, eyes narrowing. Deep within the corridor, something shifted.

  In the distance, two faint, luminous orbs blinked open—like eyes. They watched him for a heartbeat before vanishing into the dark.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

  The quote surfaced in his mind, a relic from one of Noah’s old writings. He closed his eyes for a moment.

  Then, another key was struck—louder this time, trembling the very water around them. The notes began to build into a slow, dissonant melody. Orion winced slightly.

  The cathedral bloomed with warped, melodic discord.

  A voice followed. Immaculate, beautiful—and disturbingly manipulative. It threaded through every molecule of water around them.

  “This… isn’t a normal song,” Marie muttered, clutching her head as a faint sting pricked her mind.

  Orion’s gaze hardened.

  “I’ll need to reinforce our defenses. This being won’t let us leave without dragging us into its madness.”

  The voice was feminine—lovely, even angelic—but the longer they listened, the more detached they became from reality.

  “We move now,” Orion said. “Stay close.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He led the way deeper into the cathedral, his steps careful but steady. Bubbles grazed his cheek as they passed floating candelabras, each lit with unnatural blue fire.

  As he examined their surroundings, unsettling details emerged.

  Empty pews. Human-sized furniture. But why?

  We haven’t seen a single human in this city. Who was this for?

  Before he could ponder further, Marie stopped beside him and pointed to the wall.

  “There.”

  “Stained glass?”

  Orion turned toward it. Focusing on the images helped push the music to the back of his mind, dulling its grip on him.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  He observed the first pane, then the next, following the story across the corridor. Marie remained close behind, silent but curious about his sudden intensity.

  After a few minutes, he let out a bitter sigh.

  “I wish I hadn’t looked.”

  “Why? What was depicted?” Marie asked, concerned.

  “It’s in bad taste. This thing we’re dealing with… it’s not something that can be reasoned with.”

  He began to recount what he had seen.

  In a distant, forgotten past, a splendid city once floated above the ocean. Its people had defied nature—weathering storms, surviving towering waves, thriving against all odds.

  But one day, a white light fell from the sky, devouring the clouds. The 'Madness Spread' began immediately. Chaos tore through the streets. The support systems failed. The city sank.

  The bringer of madness—an unknown entity—descended with it.

  Then came the desecration. It violated the laws of death, resurrecting the fallen in grotesque new forms. Its victims became worshippers—obedient, twisted. Its presence warped the dead into monstrosities who no longer recognized their own humanity.

  Hungry still, the being forced the city through a rift in reality—into another world, another realm. It invaded a peaceful city, leaving only ruin. Usurping the identity of one it devoured, it claimed victory and retreated.

  The portal closed. And the madness festered, waiting for new prey.

  “That’s the gist of it,” Orion finished. “It’s sickening.”

  Marie’s face twisted with revulsion.

  “Because it shows both intelligence and madness. It’s… planned. Calculated. Not just chaos for the sake of it.”

  “Exactly. A paradox made flesh. I don’t want to understand how its mind works.”

  “Me neither.”

  They finally reached a set of towering double doors at the end of the hall. Without a word, they glanced at each other—and nodded.

  Each one raised a foot and kicked in a door. The wood exploded inward.

  “Alright. Time’s up.”

  “This little game is over.”

  Through the broken entrance, Orion stepped into the final chamber.

  “La~ La~”

  The sweet, lilting voice reached a crescendo. Even now, it clawed at his sanity, but Orion poured magic into his mind and Marie’s, reinforcing their barriers.

  Marie, close at his back, peeked over his shoulder at the source of the voice.

  At the far end of the room stood a colossal organ—black, bone-veined, and curling upward in unnatural spirals. Its keys glowed with every touch, lighting up thin, pale branches like veins.

  And seated at its base was a woman. Radiant. Serene. Her voice sang as her fingers danced.

  Under the pale blue glow of her own creation, she smiled.

  “Welcome,” she said softly. “I rarely entertain guests, but I shall make an exception.”

  Her voice slid into Orion’s mind like oil.

  “Petty tricks,” he spat. “As expected from your kind.”

  His energy surged, oppressive and heavy.

  Without turning his head, he gave Marie a quiet order.

  “Do not engage. Don’t answer. Don’t speak to it.”

  She nodded, understanding his meaning. Obedience now could mean survival.

  The music stopped.

  “So you refuse to let my madness in,” the woman said.

  “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here,” she replied coldly. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  Orion narrowed his eyes.

  “A skin-stealer like you—wearing the form of a proud, powerful woman. I’d rather burn than tell you anything.”

  His words were calculated, baiting.

  “…”

  The woman’s shoulders twitched. Her hands slid off the keys.

  “You know more than you let on.”

  She rose slowly from the bench.

  And for the first time, Orion and Marie saw her face.

  The Devourer of Purity. Malamiris. Wearing the stolen shape of Valkyrie Carmillya.