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

Ash floated like snow through the ruined chamber beneath the cathedral.

The Grinshade Lord had fallen, its grotesque body curling into itself, burning from the inside out. The sigils of the Apostles dimmed back to silence, the divine light of their relics pulsing low in the aftermath.

Elian stood at the center, Seraphblade held in trembling hands, breath coming in uneven bursts.

He had not moved since the final strike. The blade's warmth had steadied him, even as his legs threatened to give.

Enoch Ruiz exhaled and deactivated the Step of the Ascended, his boots leaving faint golden impressions on the stone.

"Not bad for a first mission," he said, glancing at Elian with an approving nod.

Leon Yu lowered his head slightly, the faint shimmer of the Echo of the Meek still whispering across his iron circlet. "We've seen worse. You didn't fall apart."

Light and mocking. Childlike, but tinged with poison. The chamber darkened — not from absence of light, but from something deeper. As though the very notion of presence twisted around them.

Leon moved in front of Elian instinctively, hand half-lifted, though his relic had vanished.

Something stirred at the edge of the broken chamber — a flicker of movement beyond the shadows. It did not step forward. It simply was there.

A tall figure cloaked in black velvet and gold stood just beyond the archway. Her face was obscured by a shifting veil of darkness, but where her eyes should have been were mirrors — reflecting only the Apostles' own images back at them.

Her voice carried like smoke through silk.

"Poor little lights... dancing in ruins again."

The woman tilted her head, amused. "Didn't they tell you? I am your reflection—before you break."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Apostate?"

"No," she whispered. "Dark Apostle."

And she smiled — wide, regal, cruel. "You may call me Nyxamé."

Suddenly, the stone walls seemed to lean in, the air thick with invisible hands. But before any of them could move—

Just vanished. As if swallowed by the void between heartbeats.

The three Apostles stood motionless, breath tight, hearts pounding.

"Dark Apostle," Elian repeated. "She said that like it meant something worse."

"It does," said Leon grimly. "And if she's shown herself this soon… this mission may have been more than it seemed."

Enoch stared at the scorched floor where Nyxamé had stood.

"Whatever she is... she wasn't here for the Grinshade Lord."

Elian looked between them, the Seraphblade still faintly glowing in his grasp.

Chapter 26 – The Crown Without Eyes