Chapter 19: The Chapel Below

The rain began just as the three of them stepped out of the library. It fell in heavy sheets, casting the world in silver. The sound of it drumming on the rooftops masked their footsteps, as if the skies themselves were trying to shield them.

Amara pulled her hood tighter, heart pounding against her ribs. The words from her mother's journal still echoed in her mind. "You must never let it feed."

Elara walked ahead, quiet but determined, while Professor Nyla stayed close behind. They moved through the sleeping academy like ghosts, cutting across courtyards, slipping through locked doors, bypassing enchanted wards with ancient sigils whispered under breath.

And then… they stood before the chapel.

It was older than the rest of the academy, a relic of a time when magic and worship intertwined. Vines choked its stone walls, and the stained-glass windows were cracked and colorless. The front doors groaned as Elara pushed them open.

Inside, it smelled of forgotten prayers and old candlewax.

The pews sat in crooked rows, warped by time. At the far end, beneath a rotting crucifix, was the altar—blackened, as if scorched.

"This is where your mother made the pact," Nyla said softly. "This is where she gave herself."

Amara felt a chill race down her spine. "And her body…?"

Nyla pointed behind the altar.

There, barely visible through the shadows, was a trapdoor sealed with rusted iron.

"It was buried beneath for protection. But we need to retrieve what she left behind," Nyla said. "The tether."

Elara stepped forward, knelt, and touched the seal. A low hum vibrated through the chapel, and the sigils carved into the trapdoor glowed faint blue.

"She didn't just bury a body here," Elara said. "She buried part of the god's essence. That's why this place feels… wrong."

Amara stepped closer. "I have to go down."

"No," Elara said quickly. "It could corrupt you. If you get too close—"

"It's already inside me, Elara. I can feel it waking."

Nyla studied her. "She's right. If the god's essence is disturbed, only the one bound to it can retrieve the tether without triggering full possession."

"I'll go with her," Elara said.

Nyla shook her head. "If you enter, the Seer's presence might force a reaction. The god hates your kind."

"I don't care," Elara replied, voice firm. "I'm not leaving her."

They worked in silence to unseal the trapdoor. With every carved rune they unlocked, the air thickened, denser and heavier, like the breath of something ancient stirred by their presence.

When the last sigil faded, the trapdoor creaked open.

Darkness yawned beneath it.

A set of stone steps spiraled into the earth, slick with moss and cold as bone. Amara took the first step, torch in hand. Elara followed, despite Nyla's warnings.

Down they went.

Each step whispered with memories.

Each breath they took tasted of ash and blood.

At the bottom, they entered a crypt carved from black stone. Candles flickered to life along the walls as they passed, lit by some old enchantment. At the center of the chamber lay a coffin, covered in chains—each one etched with celestial markings.

Amara approached it, heart hammering.

The air shifted.

She knelt, placed her hand on the lid.

Instantly, she saw her mother—young, beautiful, crying as she was shackled by light and shadow alike. A figure stood before her, cloaked in silver flame. Not a man. Not a beast. Something between.

The Forgotten God.

Amara's breath caught. She saw her mother offer the locket around her neck, then the dagger at her hip.

The tether.

The vision vanished.

"Her locket," Amara whispered. "It's the tether."

Elara helped her undo the chains. As the last one fell, the coffin slowly creaked open.

Inside, her mother lay perfectly preserved. Pale skin. Long silver hair. Hands folded over her chest, where a broken silver locket rested.

Amara reached for it.

The moment her fingers brushed the metal—

Pain.

White-hot and searing.

The god screamed through her blood, trying to wake.

Amara collapsed.

Elara caught her just in time.

"Stay with me, Amara!" she cried.

But Amara's eyes had turned pitch black.

The god was clawing its way out.

"No," Elara whispered, pulling Amara into her arms. "You are not taking her!"

She grabbed the locket and pressed it to Amara's chest.

And then—

Light.

It burst from the locket, spiraling around Amara like a shield. The god shrieked inside her, but the light held strong.

Amara gasped and sat up.

She was back.

The locket now glowed softly against her skin.

Nyla's voice echoed from above. "You have it! Get out of there now!"

As they climbed, the crypt began to crumble. The god had been disturbed, and it was furious.

The moment they emerged into the chapel, the trapdoor slammed shut behind them.

Amara collapsed on the floor, shaking.

"Elara…" she whispered.

"I'm here."

Nyla looked down at the locket. "That's the only thing that can seal him again."

Amara looked up. Her eyes were human once more, but haunted.

"I don't want to be a vessel," she whispered. "I want to be free."

Elara nodded. "Then we end this. Once and for all."

Outside, the storm raged on.

But inside, for the first time in days, Amara felt a flicker of hope.

The battle was far from over…

…but now, she held a weapon.