"You've conveyed this information admirably, my boy," Aubemont remarked, his hand resting reassuringly on my shoulder as we conversed in the sacred prayer sanctum.

  Curiosity brimming, I probed further, seeking insights into the ominous ritual performed by the necromancers. "Have you encountered anything similar before?"

  Aubemont, with an air of mystery, began to trace his fingers around his salt-and-pepper goatee. "Indeed, and I fear this might surpass the capabilities of your team, even Osei," he cautioned, his tone serious.

  Perplexed, I pressed for clarity. "What do you mean? What is it?"

  "Tell me, my son, what do you know about the origin of the Archlich Z'albor?" Aubemont's countenance took on a more enigmatic quality.

  Admitting my limited knowledge, I replied, "Only what you've shared with me."

  As if unraveling a long-held secret, Aubemont continued. "Z'albor, an officer in the Sardonian military six centuries past, achieved victories not through martial prowess but with strategic brilliance. He led men to great victories with the strength of his mind and tactics, gaining victory after victory through his cunning but ruthless battle tactics. He was tasked to capture an elven barbarian king, Vatarshish. Vatarshish ambushed him and his men and the battle was lost. He was forced to retreat, though a sandstorm separated him from most of his men."

  Aubemont paused, sipping wine, the play of shadows enhancing the gravity of his words. Impatient, I sought the relevance. "What's the point of this?"

  "Z'albor returned. Only Z'albor, out of the thousand men that were there, and he returned with magic. The rest of the story is inconsequential, but he obtained power after his defeat. This wasn't the only time. Z'albor a few years later was seen enter a ruin of an elven sorceress with his comrade in arms, General Khalid. He returned alone, more powerful than before and his wife and children fell sick and died while he was gone."

  "A mere coincidence," I proclaimed, failing to see the association.

  "They showed no signs of ailment beforehand. What's more, he was no longer human. He could bear no heir; decades later, his flesh peeled off his bones. He became a Corpselord."" Aubemont explained. "These sorcerers employ a corrupted version of our Paladin anointment ritual. By sacrificing others, they gain power. The necromancers you vanquished were linked, and in their demise, the surviving cult members absorb their Essence. The Necros cult may not aim to resurrect Necros; instead, they could create a new one. Each death strengthens the remaining cultists."

  "You believe Z'albor is behind this again? Linking all the necromancers to him so he could grow more powerful when they die?"

  Aubemont dismissed it with his hands. "What I believe does not matter, though I honestly do not believe that to be the case. It is absolutely possible, but I believe it to be a rivalry between two dark wizards, and one of them is taking advantage of us, using our experts to aid them in hunting and defeating his enemy. A ruse, disguising the Necros cult as a greater threat. What we need is to find the truth in all this, and for that to happen, I need you to rise to the rank of Master as quickly as possible. That's why I put in your recommendation to lead your own team."

  "But you said Osei himself would lack the experience," I challenged, my brows furrowed in skepticism.

  Bishop Aubemont regarded me with an unwavering gaze. "Yes, but he is past his prime and lacks the raw talent you possess. You have far more potential than him, surpassing his prowess in combat at the young age of twenty-three. True, you need work on your stealth, infiltration skills and tactics, but in just seven years, you've proven to be one of the fastest learners and greatest warriors. The youngest Master inquisitor was Travis Keringer, at twenty-seven. You may surpass him. Or not fall far behind. Just trust me, boy, and stop talking back to your leaders."

  An annoyed sigh escaped my lips. "Yes, Petrus. I'll see what I can do."

  "Philippians 4:13, you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you."

  "I know, Father," I replied, rolling my eyes, a subtle act of defiance that was quickly extinguished as I remembered his words.

  "Very good. Run along now, I'm sure you have matters to attend to." Aubemont's embrace conveyed both encouragement and dismissal, and I turned to leave the room.

  "Liz, where are you?" I inquired through my orb.

  "I'm still at the Covent, but I'll meet you at home so you don't make the sisters struggle."

  A chuckle escaped me as I traversed the corridors back to our dwelling, a sanctuary provided by the Church after the tragic incident at home. The memories clung to the corners of my mind, a relentless haunting as I pondered how I could have altered the course of that fateful day. Gratitude mingled with regret, for the Church's kindness was a distinction to the dark shadows of my past that continued to cast their pall over my present. If Jesus could forgive a man who murdered his own father, surely redemption was possible for one who had committed such unspeakable acts to his children. I, however, could not. The inner turmoil I faced as my heavenly father demanded I forgive my earthly one, the same one who beat and groped me. Worse, the same man who tried to do the same to Elizabeth.

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  Once inside, I hung my coat and hat on the hooks, symbols of an external semblance of order in a life filled with internal chaos. The lavish provisions of the Church awaited me – the finest herbs and soaps, a stark divergence from the modest origins of my upbringing. Yet, no matter how prosperous the surroundings, every encounter with my reflection was a jarring reminder of my father's blood staining my face and my hands, perpetually trembling beneath the weight of unspoken guilt.

  Activating the aquamarine runestone, I surrendered to the warm water cascade as it enveloped me. Dropping to my knees, I allowed the streams to soak into my hair and strike my back, an attempt to cleanse not only my body but also the indelible marks etched onto my soul. Aloud, I wept – a ritualized release for a soul burdened by the unyielding persistence of the past. No matter how fervently I scrubbed, the stains of blood persisted, a dreadful tableau of sins imprinted on my very being. I screamed, smashing my fists into the floor as my tears merged with the droplets that continued to strike my body.

  In the solitude of my anguish, I grappled with a paradox – the Lord deemed me worthy, yet self-worth remained elusive. Forgiveness, a divine grace extended freely, was an ethereal concept that eluded my grasp. My father, far from virtuous, was still my father. The echoes of his malevolence reverberated within me, casting a shadow over my identity. It felt like a curse, a cruel twist of fate that deemed the only purpose I served was the art of killing, a skill honed in the crucible of a tormented past.

  The door to the house creaked open, "Indy, I'm home! I'll wait here till you finish up!"

  "I'll be out in a minute!" I responded, swiftly rinsing off the oils and draping myself in a bathrobe. Opening the door, I found Elizabeth on the floor, swinging her legs, her back turned to me.

  "How did your day go?" I inquired, expecting casual banter.

  Her words struck like unforeseen daggers. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning on proposing?" she blurted.

  I stammered, "Wha… How did…"

  "I found your ring," she interrupted matter-of-factly.

  "But it was hidden," I protested, bewildered. Tucked away behind toolboxes, obscured in the closet's shadows.

  "Not well, apparently. When are you going to ask?" she prodded.

  "That's none of your concern," I retorted, my face flushing. "And give that back. It's expensive."

  She held the box out of my reach nonchalantly. "I'm not going to lose it. I actually want you two to get married. I think you should give it today."

  "It's too late now," I insisted.

  "No, it's not. What would you do if she were outside right now?" she teased, a mischievous grin extending across her innocent face.

  Before I could respond, a knocking interrupted. "Lizzy, Indy, it's me," came my beloved's sweet, melodic voice.

  "Elizabeth, you... I'm half naked! Why would you..."

  "Shut up, you'll thank me later," she declared, tossing me the box and heading to the door.

  "Don't you dare," I warned the audacious child. Her smile broadened as she swung open the door. There stood Guan, in uniform, radiant as ever. Her almond eyes pierced my soul as the light cast a glow on her face.

  "Why are you in a bathrobe?" she giggled, her teeth glistening like stars in the night.

  "Why are you here?" I asked.

  "Didn't you have something important to tell me?"

  "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. It's not appropriate for you to be here this late," I scolded, desperate to keep the impending surprise intact.

  "Indy, you never follow the rules," Elizabeth spat defiantly.

  "She speaks true. And we aren't even alone. There's no way you would act immoral in front of your sister," Guan reasoned with a playful glint in her eyes.

  "Jezebels, the both of you. I'm not even dressed."

  "If you're dressed enough for your sister, surely you're dressed enough for me," she mocked. Then, she bit her lip, crossed her right leg over her left, and clenched her hands together. "So, you want to tell me what's in the box?"

  "Not right now," I stated firmly.

  "Why not?" she asked.

  "It's not the right time. Go home and get some sleep."

  She walked up to me, placing her finger on my lips. I felt my heart palpitate as she leaned in. Then, I felt the box in my hand move. I tightened my grip, pulling back and guarding it as best as possible.

  "Oh, come on. I know what's in there." She reached for the box, but I playfully maneuvered it, teasingly keeping it just out of her grasp.

  "You think you know," I corrected.

  "Why do you have to be so complicated? I'll say yes anyway."

  "Say yes to what?" I bluffed, now cracking a genuine smile.

  "Lord, please help them," Elizabeth mumbled under her breath.

  Guan and I shared a chuckle. I gently pulled her in by the waist, running my fingers through her hair as she rested her head on my chest.

  "I want to wake up every day beside you and sleep every night with you in my arms. You're my light in this dark world, my best friend. You make me better, and your smiles always encourage me. I want to raise a family and grow old with you." Kneeling down, I slowly opened the box. "My love, will you marry me?"

  As the box revealed its secret, the air shimmered with an unspoken promise. The soft glow of the room intensified, casting a warm and intimate aura around us. Guan's eyes widened, her hand covering her mouth in delight. Caught between exasperation and amusement, Elizabeth rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the affectionate smile tugging at her lips.

  Time seemed to slow as anticipation hung in the air, making the simple act of opening the box feel like the beginning of a beautiful journey.