Chapter 14: The Supreme Pontiff

The tower's dim light flickered as Alastor reached out, his fingers grazing the surface of the black feather.

The moment his skin made contact, a pulse of dark energy rippled through the chamber.

The glass case shattered.

A low hum filled the air, thick with unseen power.

Then, a voice—soft yet ancient—slipped into Alastor's mind.

"At last… you are here."

His breath caught in his throat. The words didn't just echo in his ears—they resonated through his very soul, weaving into something deep and unshakable.

A sudden chill gripped him, though the room remained still.

Beside him, Duke Von stiffened, his face betraying nothing.

The merchant stumbled backward, staring at the broken case. "Impossible… That artifact has been dormant for centuries! And yet, it reacted—to you?"

Alastor didn't answer. His fingers curled around the feather, its presence thrumming against his palm like a second heartbeat.

It felt right. Familiar.

But why?

Duke Von placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "We're taking it." His voice left no room for argument.

The merchant hesitated, eyes flickering between them and the shattered display. There was fear in his gaze, but also curiosity. "Very well… But be careful. That feather does not belong to this world."

Alastor barely heard him.

The voice… that presence… it was still lingering, watching.

Then, as if sensing the weight of his thoughts, a sudden shift in the air drew their attention.

A paladin stood at the entrance of the tower, clad in gold and white, the sigil of the Holy Church gleaming across his chest. His stance was rigid with authority, and his voice was steady when he spoke.

"Alastor Von. Duke Von." His gaze fell upon them. "The Supreme Pontiff requests an audience. Immediately."

Duke Von's eyes narrowed. "Now?"

The paladin simply nodded.

They knew.

The sun hung low in the sky as the grand cathedral loomed before them, its towering spires piercing the heavens like divine spears. Alastor stepped out of the carriage, his father following closely behind. The scent of burning incense thickened the air, and whispers of their arrival spread like wildfire through the Holy City.

Silver-clad guards stood in disciplined rows, their expressions unreadable. Without a word, they ushered them forward through the golden gates.

Beyond them lay the Holy Chamber—a place where only the most sacred of discussions took place. The grand doors groaned open, revealing a vast hall bathed in ethereal golden light.

At its heart sat the Supreme Pontiff.

Her silver eyes gleamed with an otherworldly wisdom, and the pristine white robes draped over her form carried an aura of divinity. Yet, despite her composed expression, there was an unmistakable weight behind her gaze as she watched them enter.

Duke Von immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Alastor followed suit, though every instinct in him screamed to stay on guard.

"Rise, Duke Von. And you, Alastor," the Supreme Pontiff commanded, her voice soft yet absolute.

They obeyed.

"You have caused quite the stir, young one," she said, her gaze locked onto Alastor. "Your failed awakening… is unlike anything we have ever seen."

Alastor met her gaze unflinchingly. "I seek answers, Your Eminence."

A faint smile—one of amusement, or perhaps intrigue—graced her lips. "Do you now?" She stepped forward, her presence impossibly vast despite her small frame. "Tell me… Have you felt anything… unnatural?"

Alastor hesitated.

The feather pulsed against his chest, unseen beneath his robes.

"Yes," he admitted.

A flicker of something crossed her expression—recognition, perhaps.

She lifted a hand, fingers glowing with divine light. "Then allow me to see for myself."

The moment her fingertips brushed against his forehead, a surge of energy flooded his mind.

Flashes. Fragments of something he couldn't fully grasp.

The black void that swallowed him during his awakening.

A presence, vast and unfathomable, lurking just beyond his reach.

The whispers that called to him from the abyss.

The Supreme Pontiff's eyes widened.

She withdrew sharply, as if burned.

Gasps erupted from the clergy surrounding them. Some made gestures of warding, while others murmured prayers under their breath.

Duke Von tensed. "What did you see?"

The Supreme Pontiff inhaled slowly, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully measured.

"His soul…" she said, "is not ordinary."

The weight of her words settled over the room like a storm cloud.

Alastor clenched his fists. "What does that mean?"

"It means," she said slowly, "that what resides within you is not simply a failure of awakening. It is something ancient. Something that should not exist within this world."

His breath hitched.

"The black feather," he murmured.

The Supreme Pontiff's silver eyes darkened. "Yes. It is not a relic. It is a remnant of a being beyond the gods themselves."

A heavy silence filled the chamber.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Tell me, Alastor Von… When the darkness called to you, did you answer?"

The air grew thick, suffocating. Every priest, every knight present held their breath.

Alastor met her gaze.

And for the first time, he did not lie.

"I did."

A shudder ran through the room.

The Supreme Pontiff closed her eyes briefly before exhaling. When she looked at him again, there was no warmth left in her gaze—only solemnity.

"You must be careful, Alastor Von," she warned. "There are forces watching you now. And should you stray from the path of light…" Her voice hardened.

"The Church will not hesitate to act."

A cold finality settled over the chamber.

Alastor exhaled slowly. He understood her warning.

But deep inside, he already knew.

He had already strayed.

And there was no turning back.

The night air was thick with an unspoken tension as Alastor and Duke Von left the cathedral. The paladins watched them closely, their hands hovering over the hilts of their weapons. The streets were quieter than before, as if the city itself sensed what had just transpired.

Duke Von turned to his son, his voice a low whisper. "This changes everything."

Alastor looked down at his palm, where the faintest traces of dark energy still lingered from the feather's touch.

"I know."

And in the depths of his soul, he felt it.

Something had awakened.

And it would not be silenced.