Current day…

  2 years after the events of the catastrophe of V?r….

  “Once, there was a vast emptiness,” the congregant master said as he opened his sacred scriptures. “Then, R?k shattered his divine soul, and matter exploded forth into the emptiness. Thus, the universe was created. This is a story we all know and love, fellow Korists.”

  Kamille shifted in the pew uncomfortably beside Ayela. It wasn’t because the seat was uncomfortable, nor was it anything they were wearing – they dressed quite casually, in fact. It was more because Kamille hated religion. She hated the thought of an organization controlling and manipulating people through the thin veil of spirituality.

  Ayela believed differently, though. She mostly adhered to the tenants of Korism. She believed in its statutes, that all reman should be treated as equals and that they should only immerse into Korism if their hearts don’t hold any conflict over it. Kamille didn’t come over religion, though, and Ayela didn’t force her to come; she got a lead from the mysterious leader of their illusive guild, the Darklings. There was a member of this congregation leadership that belonged to them… The Kult…

  It was personal for Ayela. Just two years ago, the love of her life was stolen from her because of the horrible goals of the deep-state order that named themselves the Kult of Salom’Sileyu. She shuddered as she remembered everything that happened. Any time she heard of a Kult member in any place of leadership, she made it a personal mission to take them down, albeit as inconspicuously as possible. Kamille understood that, and apparently, so did their hidden leader, Ruat.

  “And we all know what happens next… N’Adan and his wife, Kudoru – the first remans – sought the fruit of the Great Tree of Red for eternal life. Against the will of R?k, they took and ate, and were greeted by the Towl?l, who gave them the knowledge of sadness, wrath, and warpedness… Because of the actions of our first ancestors, we as a species, fell into darkness, and death was introduced. Our immortality was stripped from us, and our invincibility was erased. With a sorrowful heart, R?k threw them to Thaerv, and wrapped them in mortal flesh so that our immortal souls would experience the death of animals, and those Tormentors were given dominion over the universe they polluted,” the preacher preached, Kamille rolled her eyes and slouched a little more.

  “You actually believe this, Ayela?” She whispered.

  Ayela smirked. “If you’d read the Alldweii a little more intently, you might find that it makes more sense than you think.”

  Kamille rolled her eyes. “No thanks. I think I’ll pass. The idea of divine logicians is crazy enough for me. The fact that extra-dimensional beings exist is more than enough, with the Aethril attacks and all,” she retorted.

  Ayela hadn’t noticed the long pause the preacher gave, but before she could respond, he began to cough uncontrollably. Several congregants gasped, and the girls leapt from their seats as he doubled over. Panicked, Ayela ran over to him and caught him before he fell to the ground. Though she and Kamille had only been living in Ih’Dejj for half a year, she’d grown quite fond of the Congregation Master. He was the most accepting, understanding, and compassionate man she’d ever met. Even Kamille had grown to like him, which was hard for her considering her negative disposition to ivory elves.

  “Master Gillain?” Ayela panicked. “I’m here, Master Gillain. Keep breathing. Stay with me.”

  Kamille was trying to keep the peace with the other congregants, urging them to remain seated and calm while she and a few others got a hold of medical professionals. “Ayela,” Gillain wheezed.

  “I’m here,” she reassured through teary eyes.

  “You are a light in this world… You… You’re the most unique reman that has ever been born… R?k has whispoered to my inclining ear that you have a touch of destiny… And your path… Not even time… T-time… Can t-touch…” He said between coughs as he drew his final breath.

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  “NO!” Ayela shouted. Others began to wail at the loss of their beloved preacher. “Get up! Breath! You can’t give up!” She cried as she tried to jostle him back to consciousness. “GET UP!” She screamed.

  “Ayela,” Kamille cooed, slowly making her way over. “He’s dead, Ayela…”

  Then, Ayela noticed a particular smell, and watched in horror as a sage-colored ooze slowly flowed from his nostrils. She recognized it immediately from one of the documents she and Kamille leaked to the public: a government funded program that explored different kinds of biological weapons to use in assassination attempts.

  “Kamille,” she said in a hushed tone. Her heart started to burn with anger. “Do you see this?” She asked as she pointed to it. Kamille immediately knelt down and sniffed the air around the body.

  “It’s the Irffil Pathogen!” She exclaimed, standing to her feet.

  “He was assassinated?!” Someone from the congregation said in a worried tone.

  “It’s just like the darklings said in their online posts!”

  “The government is targeting religious leaders?!”

  Then, a tall, handsome ivory elf with slicked blonde hair and beady green eyes stood to his feet. “Ayela!” Kamille whispered in a panicked tone. “It’s him! It’s the cultist!”

  “Hear me, congregation!” He shouted, demanding their attention. “The empire has failed us! They seek to snuff out the light of Korism! This assassination on our beloved master is all the proof we need!”

  Ayela stood to her feet, tapping into her reservoirs of divine logic for use at any moment. “Don’t, Ayela. Not here. You know your abilities are illegal in this country,” Kamille whispered, urging her to back down. Ayela reluctantly obeyed. Her heart was distraught, angry, and confused simultaneously. Every instinct told her to attack – to incapacitate and turn him in. She knew, though, that he would suffer no harm. He would be let go. And then the news of her survival would be public, and the chaos of the empire knowing that divine logicians were still around would lead to too much death.

  “What are we going to do?!” One of the congregants panicked.

  The cultist cleared his throat. “We’re going to rise up! We’re going to fight back!”

  “No!” Ayela protested. “It’s not right. That’s exactly what they want.”

  “And what if we stay still and do nothing, blood elf? We’ll lay down and die? I say fight! There’s a government representative here, isn’t there?”

  With horror, she watched as the congregation turned to glare at the police officer that regularly attended with them. Kamille grabbed her hand; they could both feel what was about to happen. She didn’t want to believe it. She wished she could focus more on the cultist’s degenerate insult rather than the elevated primal instinct she could sense from the other elves in the chapel with them, but she knew it would have been a false hope. Something had overtaken them – something that both she and Kamille found themselves immune to.

  “Stop!” She pleaded. “Don’t do this! What’s gotten into all of you?! Mrs. Tellasta, remember telling me after congregation three weeks ago how you just couldn’t understand the wars going on!?” Her pleas were to no avail, though. A dark, twisted magic had fallen over them, exerted from the dark logic that the cultist influenced with. The Kult of Salom’Sileyu was planning something big, and she could see Tallie’s fingerprints all over it.

  Without saying a word, the rest of the congregants leapt at the officer and dragged him to the stage of the chapel while the cultist pulled out his phone to record. She and Kamille quickly dashed off the stage, eagerly escaping the phone’s camera, but Ayela saw a wicked grin creep across his face as he watched. He was pleased with their demented state of mind. He bore the same nasty energy that Tallie did.

  The officer screamed, and she watched in terror as some of the stronger, more brutish men pulled out knives and began to cut into his limbs. She clasped her hands over her mouth as the crimson blood and the stomach-churning gore splattered on the bloodthirsty congregants, and before Kamille dragged her out, she saw them rip his head off with their bare hands.

  Ayela shrieked, and she couldn’t hear anything else around her. It was something out of a nightmare, and she hoped deep in her gut that she would wake from it. Kamille’s persistence in their departure returned her to reality, and she saw the pedestrians that had stopped to gawk in confusion. She felt their gazes. It was as if she were standing there stark naked. The crimson-haired elf hadn’t noticed that she was crying as a tear fell from her cheek, and she quickly wiped her face as her dark elf friend led her away from the chapel.

  “Someone call the police!” Kamille ordered. “One of their own was murdered in that chapel!”

  Most stood there in disbelief, leaving only the gentle breeze of the sunny day and the quiet hum of some of the cars as they passed by fill the void of sound. “NOW!” She barked. It was obvious that they couldn’t call the cops: their involvement with the darklings and the incoming questioning of investigators put them at too much risk. They needed a friend. They needed Karinth.

  To her relief, one of the men made the call, and they took off running in the distance. They had a bigger case at hand than they previously anticipated, and a longer journey before finally finding rest. Ayela’s heart sank as they turned a corner and vanished out of sight. Why target the Korists? Why target such a peaceful people?

  …What was the Kult planning?