Chapter 7: His Stained Hands

The hallway was silent, but in Raziel’s head a bell was ringing in his skull while his steps echoed against the cold stone of the cloister.

Clac, clac, clac.

He walked with the fake calm of a monk going to pray, although inside he was screaming.

’Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.’

He looked at his hands and saw the black ink was still there, staining his fingertips as if it were the necrosis of a corpse. It had been too efficient, too perfect, and now he had Father Marius’s attention, which usually ended in an interrogation cell with rusty tools.

[MENTAL STATE: Mild Anxiety][PROBABILITY CALCULATION: 45% of being marked as Suspected of Heresy]

“Great,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

He needed a plan to divert attention or find something bigger than his own mistakes, so he turned the corner towards the dorms and bumped straight into a wall of meat and arrogance.

“Where to in such a hurry, “prodigy”?”

Lucian. Of course.

The redhead blocked the way with crossed arms and that smile Raziel had seen at his companions’ funerals in the future, while next to him, his two gorillas, Gideon and Mark, laughed like hyenas.

“Excuse me, Lucian,” Raziel said with a flat voice, no time for games.

“Excuse you?” Lucian let out a dry laugh and invaded his personal space. “I don’t think you have permission for anything. Who did you bribe? Or who did you steal the answers from?”

“The test was sight translation, Lucian. There are no answers to steal, either you know how to read, or you don’t.”

The noble’s smile wavered and a nervous tic jumped in his left eye.

“Don’t talk to me like that, orphan. My father donates more gold to this church in a month than your life will ever be worth. Father Marius is confused now, but when he realizes you cheated…”

Lucian reached out a hand to push him, but it was a mistake.

Before the hand touched his robe, Raziel deflected the noble’s wrist and took a side step, letting Lucian stumble with his own momentum and almost fall in front of his henchmen.

“Damn you…!” Lucian bellowed, turning around with a red face.

Raziel didn’t back down, but took a step towards him and let his eyes darken, allowing the mask to fall for a second.

“Father Marius said he would be watching me,” he whispered, low enough so only Lucian would hear him. “He said he would look for corruption. If you hit me now, in front of everyone… who do you think will look like the corrupt one, Lucian?”

Lucian froze, opening his mouth without anything coming out, because Raziel’s “killing intent” was enough to freeze his blood.

“That’s what I thought.”

Raziel walked past him, bumping his shoulder, while Gideon and Mark moved aside instinctively as if he had a contagious disease.

Only when he was far away did he feel the tremor in his hands return, if Lucian had attacked for real, he would have ended up in the infirmary.

’I need power. Now. I can’t survive on words alone.’

The Library of St. Celeste was a labyrinth of shadows and dust, so Raziel headed straight to the Ecclesiastical History section.

He needed to confirm if the exam text, The Martyr’s Curse, was a coincidence or if someone in the upper echelon knew the end of the world was coming. He pulled out a heavy tome titled Compendium of Minor Heresies and started turning pages frantically.

“You are looking in the wrong section.”

The voice was soft, like silk brushing against a dagger.

Raziel slammed the book shut and turned to see Seraphina sitting at a nearby table, partially hidden by a column. Her eyes, of an unnatural violet, were locked on him.

“Sister Seraphina,” he said, bowing his head. “I didn’t see you.”

“Of course not, you were too busy chasing ghosts.” She closed her own book delicately, revealing the title shining in the candlelight: Dead Dialects of Zhalyrian.

Raziel’s heart skipped a beat.

“I heard the rumors,” she continued, standing up with that predatory elegance. “A boy from the slums who translates forbidden texts better than the Cardinals. Father Marius is… restless.”

“It was luck. Divine inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” Seraphina stopped a few feet from him, smelling of lavender and ozone, like the air before a storm. “The word you used for “Heaven”… Aetherius. It’s a beautiful word, but it has a very specific context, Raziel. In the Golden Age, Aetherius didn’t mean the Paradise where good souls go. It meant the Void where monsters come from.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and a cold sweat ran down his back.

“You are interesting, Novice Raziel,” she murmured, leaning in until her violet eyes seemed to glow in the gloom. “Most boys your age dream of magic swords and being heroes, but you… you have the look of someone calculating escape routes.”

Raziel took a step back, bumping into the bookshelf.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sister. I just want to serve the Church.”

Seraphina let out a soft, almost musical giggle.

“You lie very poorly for someone so smart.” She turned around, making her long black hair swing like a cape. “Be careful, Raziel. Marius thinks you are possessed and Lucian thinks you are a cheater, but I… I think you are the only one here who actually knows how to read the warning signs.”

“Signs?”

Seraphina nodded towards the book Raziel had left on the table.

“The Invasion won’t start with fire, Raziel. It will start with talented children who know things they shouldn’t.”

She disappeared into the shadows of the shelves and, almost instantly, the System flickered in his retina breaking his paralysis.

[NEW EVENT UNLOCKED: The Raven’s Gaze][You have caught the attention of a key character: Seraphina Blackwood][WARNING: Seraphina’s Threat Level: ???]

Raziel wiped his hand over his face and let out a shaky sigh.

He was supposed to go unnoticed but fate had a twisted sense of humor and now he had to survive the Church, the nobles, and a girl with eyes that saw too much.

Raziel clenched his fist, feeling the ink on his fingers weighing heavier than ever and opened the book of Minor Heresies. Not to study history, but to look for weapons.

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