fabrayist

In an alternate 21st century, unseen by the eyes of ordinary men, a war rages in the shadows.
The Order of the Silent Flame, an ancient brotherhood of exorcists, stands as humanity’s last line of defense against the demonic forces led by Centurion, the fallen warlord of the underworld. Armed with sacred relics, forbidden rituals, and unbreakable vows, the exorcists work in secrecy to protect a world that does not even know it’s under siege.
As the darkness spreads and Centurion’s legions grow bolder, cracks begin to form in the veil that hides the truth from humanity. And among the Order, a new generation must rise—one that will uncover long-buried secrets, face the betrayal of old allies, and decide whether the Silent Flame will continue to burn… or be snuffed out forever.

Apostles' War

Lisieux, Normandy – 9:17 AM

The common room of Auberge du Rosier had thinned out by late morning, its cheerful hum fading as guests left to enjoy the markets or take pictures of the famed cathedral square.

But at the far table near the window, the atmosphere remained sharp, focused.

"We split up," Leon said, arms crossed. "This city isn't large — but whatever's haunting the cathedral, it's quiet enough to avoid the Church's own detection. That means subtle. Discreet. We need eyes, ears… stories."

Enoch leaned forward, folding his hands over the table. "I'll speak with the local priests. See if anyone's reported strange liturgies or missing congregants."

Leon nodded. "Good. I'll go to the old quarter. There's always someone who's seen what they shouldn't have and kept quiet out of fear."

"Stick to the market district," Leon advised. "The bakers. Flower vendors. Children. They notice everything when no one thinks they're watching."

Elian blinked. "And if they ask what we're doing?"

Enoch's voice was calm. "Just say you're a seminarian writing on local church history. They'll talk freely. Most of them still think Sainte-Marguerite just has plumbing issues."

"And what do I look for?" Elian asked.

Leon's eyes were steely. "Patterns. Repeated names. Whispers of singing, grinning strangers, people forgetting where they've been. You'll know when it feels… wrong."

Elian nodded. He didn't have a relic. He wasn't a fighter. But he could listen.

And listening was where truth began.

Noon – Under the Ivy Trellis

They met again under the shade of an ivy-wrapped arch in the inn's courtyard, away from prying ears.

Enoch arrived first, his stride even.

"The priests are worried, but muzzled. They say a group of sisters heard chanting at dawn — not Latin. Something they couldn't recognize. One nun said she saw her own face watching her from the nave."

Leon came next. "In the old quarter, a tailor mentioned a client who walked into the cathedral before dawn and never came out. The man returned that evening… or someone that looked like him. He didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just smiled and left town."

Elian swallowed. "I spoke with a boy selling postcards. He said he dreamed about the cathedral speaking to him. He drew a picture… and it looked like someone grinning from the rafters. Not smiling. Grinning."

"It's confirmed," Leon said darkly. "Grinshades are nesting inside. And if they've infected the architecture, then the cathedral itself might be… listening."

Enoch closed his eyes for a moment. "We go in tonight."

Elian felt his heart begin to pound. But he didn't protest.

And for the first time, despite the fear, he meant it.

Chapter 19 – Whispers in the Wind