Beyond the World
Chapter 1 :The Inquisition
The narrow passage is dark, with rusted iron gates lining both sides, stretching into the darkness beyond. The sound of footsteps echoes through the passage. A crystal glows faintly in the dark, casting a white light that reveals the faces of several men. They stop at one of the iron gates, which then scraps against the ground with a harsh, squealing noise.
"Have you made up your mind?" the leading man asks the person inside, with a light tone. The man sits on a wooden chair, his hands bound by iron chains. At the question, he looks up. His cloudy right eye is split by a deep scar, while the other shows fear. With just a few remaining teeth, he mumbles incoherently.
Eric wanders around the room, while the others stand guard by the door. "All right, I'll ask you one last time," he says, squatting down to meet the man's gaze, every word clear. "Where do you hide the materials?" The man groans, yet stares back at Eric, a stubbornness in his eyes that Eric cannot understand.
"Well," Eric waves a hand. "Since I started this job, one thing proves true—often, the crudest methods work best." The crystal in his hand still emits a pale, ghastly light.
Chapter 2 :Aiden
"Next, Aiden. Can you tell us about the origin of 'The Firmament'?" a middle-aged man asks, standing at the front of the classroom.
"Yes, Mr. Jonas," Aiden clears his throat. "The Firmament is a mountain range surrounding the Holy City. It is a shield and blessing bestowed by God to protect the city's people. Beyond the mountains exists nothing but taboos and sin. It is said that anyone who crosses the taboos will turn into a monster."The other students show little reaction, because this is a story they have heard since childhood.
Aiden pauses, then continues: "Of course, we in the Holy City live under God's grace. Church members known as Cornerstones always can use crystals with power to benefit people."
“Perfect! We are guided by God," Mr. Jonas praises. "I also have an announcement: my adopted son Aiden has passed his exams and will soon attend Tingen University. Achieving this at just fourteen is remarkable. Let's all wish him well!"
The class turns to Aiden, murmurs of admiration filling the air. "No wonder it's Aiden!" "That's amazing!" "What will you study?"
Aiden waves a hand, smiling humbly. "I'm just a little luckier than others. And I'll major in Theology, of course." His smile broadens, and he speaks faster. "As we all know, Theology is the starting point of all knowledge. Everything we have comes from God. Studying Theology will deepen my faith and help me follow the guidance better."
Applause fills the room. "What a noble goal!" Aiden smiles shyly, but his thoughts drift elsewhere.
This is all so easy. Forgive me for saying this, but most people in this world are fools. I was an orphan once, living in terrible poverty. For others, such circumstances might mean their lives are done for. But I'm different. I am capable. I can always make myself comfortable, no matter the situation. My rule? Stay rational. Make rational decisions, and you'll be safe and sound.
Now, when people talk about Aiden, they see a humble, clever boy. Jonny, sitting beside him, leans over. "Quit being modest, Aiden. When you become a Cornerstone someday, I'll have so much to brag about!"
"I still have a lot to learn," Aiden says, scratching his head and grinning before sitting back down.
After class, Mr. Jonas stops Aiden. "Here's your university acceptance letter. Just fill in your major and sign it."
"Thank you, sir."
"Also, could you do me a favor? Go to the Inquisition and pick my friend up."
"The Inquisition?"
"He made some mistakes in the past, but he has repented to God now and has been released."
Although life in the Holy City is peaceful, there are still some people who go against God's will. For example, they attempt to escape from The Firmament, hide crystals privately, and distort the history of the Holy City. They are regarded as heretics. Thus, the Inquisition came into being. The members of the Inquisition, known as the Night Watchers, are responsible for arresting potential heretics.
"No problem, sir." Aiden takes the letter and walks away quietly. To be honest, he'd much rather study astronomy. It's one of his only hobbies. Every night, he can't help but look up at the sky, staring at the stars twinkling above the mountains. In those moments, he forgets his studies, his rationality—he forgets everything. There's just a feeling, a raw urge, that he can't name. He just thinks it's really beautiful.
Aiden wanders down the street, holding the letter in one hand, heading for the Inquisition. The streets are bustling. It's the busiest time of day.
"Fresh fruit, only ten copper coins!" a girl calls, carrying a basket on her back.
"Mirrors for sale! Check your appearance before prayer. The God sees your devotion!" a woman shouts.
The streets are clean, lined with many stalls, though their goods are simple. One stall stands out, drawing a crowd. "Fresh fish!" the vendor calls. Dozens of lively fish lie on his table,no water, no ice, just a thin mist from a crystal beside them keeping them fresh. "The crystals are hard to come by," he adds. "Let us cherish them." His stall is taller than the others, and a line quickly forms. This crystal emits a cool mist that maintains the freshness of the fish without water or ice, showing its practical value in daily life.
As a blessing, crystal embodies mysterious powers. It serves a wide range of uses,enhancing residents' daily lives, aiding medical research and so on. But it is tightly controlled by the church: They are only allocated to specific people for use at specific times, and private possession by ordinary people is forbidden.
When Aiden reaches the Inquisition's gates, two guards are standing there. He smiles at them. "Good day. I'm here to pick up Mr. John."
"Ah, today's the day he gets out," Eric says. He glances at Aiden, then pushes the gate open and goes inside. Soon, the clink of chains echoes, and the gate opens again. A tall figure stands before Aiden.
Chapter 3 :John
Eric unlocks John's chains. "You're free now." He turns to Aiden. "Keep an eye on him. If he ends up back here, he won't be leaving."
"Sure, sir," Aiden replies, barely keeping his smile intact.
Aiden and John walk back slowly. Aiden steals glances at the man—one eye is blind, his left eyelid drooping, and an uneven pale pink scar hollows his cheek. He is very tall.
"What's Jonas to you?" a hoarse voice asks.
Aiden pauses, realizing John is talking to him. "He's my adoptive father."
"You're going to university?"
“Yes.”
"What will you study?"
“Theology.”
John snorts. Aiden pretends not to hear. This man is trouble, he thinks. He's a former heretic. Getting involved with him won't end well.
They walk in silence for a while, then John speaks again. "You know, I studied astronomy in college. ”
“Really?
Aiden realizes he sounds too excited. "I mean... not many people study astronomy these days, right?" John gives him a deep look.
Just then, noise breaks out up ahead. A crowd has gathered around a house. Aiden and John both look over.
"Mom....." a little boy sobs, reaching out to a woman. Two guards stand beside her, and several men in white robes follow behind.
The woman forces a smile at the boy. "Mom will be back, okay? Don't cry." Then she is led away.
Whispers spread through the crowd: "Another one taken..." "Did you see the black marks on her face? Horrible." "Don't say that. Who knows if it'll be us next?" "Oh..."
This happens every few days. The Holy City's people are protected by The Firmament, but for over 300 years, a strange illness has lingered. Those infected get black marks on their faces; in later stages, some even grow grain-like black crystals all over their bodies. The disease is called "Dark Crystal Sickness." It strikes randomly, with no warning.
That's why the "Healing Sanctuary" exists. They claim to research and cure the illness. Anyone infected is taken there for treatment. According to the Church, God gives them protection, but also trials. Only those with pure, strong faith can pass.
The crowd disperses, and Aiden and John continue walking. Aiden feels little. He's seen this too many times. Sometimes, families cry and say goodbye; sometimes, the infected insist they aren't sick; sometimes, fanatics claim they don't need treatment because they'll survive the trial on their own. But in Aiden's memory, no one who is taken ever comes back. If I ever get it.... I guess I'll just be unlucky.
"Where do you think those people go?" John suddenly asks.
“Hmm? The Healing Sanctuary, of course."
"Is that so?" John says. "The Healing Sanctuary says they're trying to cure the sick, but no one returns. Doesn't that seem strange?"
Aiden's mind races. He's thought about this before. The Sanctuary's 300 years of no progress, the Church's harsh punishment for anyone who refuses treatment or hides their illness. But every time, his rationality stops him. Questioning the Church or God is dangerous. One wrong word, and you'll be labeled a heretic.
He straightens his face. “Mr. John, the Inquisition isn't far from here. " This man is dangerous, Aiden thinks. The Inquisition had said John had "realized his mistakes" and would "follow God again." Maybe it's a lie.
He tries to step back, to put distance between them, but John suddenly lunges forward, grabbing Aiden by the collar and yanking him up.
"Listen, " John whispers, his voice cold. "I'm out here because I haven't finished something. Go ahead and try to run to the Inquisition. See if you get there before I kill you." He stares at Aiden with his one good eye, then lets go after a long moment. Aiden coughs, gasping for air.
He is crazy, he thinks. First, I need to calm him down. Then...
"Don't you want to know what's beyond the mountains?" John says suddenly.
Aiden freezes,not just at the sudden change of topic, but at the question itself. He has wondered, in the quiet parts of his mind. Every time he looks up at the stars, he's felt an urge to see the sky without the mountains blocking it.
"If you do, meet me in the western woods tonight." With that, John turns and walks away. Aiden hurries home.
He's definitely crazy. Talking about that!That's forbidden by the Church. He really is a heretic...
But beyond the mountains...
Chapter 4 :Sea
Night is gradually falling, the moonlight in the sky shines on the shadows of people on the ground.
Ah, damn it, why did I even come out? Aidan scolds himself as he reluctantly runs towards the western woods.
"He's here." John smiles knowingly. Aidan pants heavily, "So what did you want to say?"
Just listen to what he has to say. If it sounds wrong, I'll leave. Aidan comforts himself with this thought.
John tilts his head back, looking at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful. Have you ever imagined the sky beyond the mountains?"
Aidan feels absurd inside. "Mr. John, the world outside the mountains is full of monsters. Don't ask, don't be curious. Those are the rules."
"Do you know about the sea?"
"Sea? What's that?" Aidan does not understand. John's topics are always so jumpy.
"The sea is a vast expanse of blue, full of salt water, with fish and all sorts of strange creatures."
"Huh? What nonsense are you talking? How can fish live in salt water?"
"Believe it or not."
"Besides the sea, there are beaches like gold."
"...Where did you learn all this?" Aidan is confused. These things he's describing are unheard of. If they really exist, there's only one possibility: beyond the mountains. But isn't the outside world all monsters and curses? How could there be such wonderful things?
"I saw them."
"What?"
"I read about them in a book."
"Back then, I was obsessed with astronomy. To study the constellations, I read many books, even secretly looked at forbidden ones. So, I accidentally saw the contents of one book. It described many things I had never heard of or seen before." John's face is full of longing.
" ....Blue stretching beyond sight, wind tugs at the ripples....."John still remembers the description.
"If the entire book was made up, why was it labeled forbidden? So I guessed back then that someone must have gone outside the mountains and recorded what they saw."
Aidan falls silent. If someone went out and left a book, are the stories about monsters and curses true? Does the Church know about this?
John pulls himself out of memories. He glances at Aidan.
"I know what you're thinking. Unfortunately, the monsters are real."
Aidan feels disappointed.
"But do you know the truth about the monsters?" John's words suddenly speed up, and he becomes excited. "Over three hundred years ago, God bestowed his blessing, and The Firmament appeared, protecting people from the curse. Also, over three hundred years ago, the Dark Crystal Sickness appeared out of nowhere. Many people fell ill and were sent to Healing Sanctuary. But as far as I know, no one ever comes out. Don't you find that strange?"
"It happened more than three hundred years ago. What does this matter?" Wait, what's the connection between these two? He always thought the Dark Crystal Sickness was incurable. After all, the Healing Sanctuary has had no success for so long. But why do they insist on taking the sick away? Is the disease contagious? Aidan's thoughts wander. Patients enter the Healing Sanctuary but never leave. What happens to those in the last stages? Aidan has never heard any news about the patients taken away, dead or alive. If they died, why aren't the families notified? Where did they go... Aidan is suddenly startled by a thought and breaks out in a cold sweat. Is it what I think? He secretly looks at John and finds him staring straight back.
"Well, things from so long ago, who knows?" Aidan doesn't want to continue this topic. Sometimes just knowing certain things can bring trouble.
"You're thinking correctly."
Aidan's face twitches briefly, then he forces an exaggerated laugh. "I wasn't thinking anything." But now, he feels an urge to uncover the secret.
"Those monsters... they were once people's family," John says slowly.
Aidan closes his eyes in resignation.
"After reading that book, I became obsessed with finding any trace of people going beyond the mountains. I read forbidden books more frequently and found clues. Strangely, none of those books mentioned monsters. Then I started investigating various places. If people went out, there must be an exit through the mountains. I walked along the mountain base and noticed the number of guards increases at certain intervals."
"They say it's to protect people's safety. The closer to the outside, the more dangerous it is," Aidan says, based on his own understanding.
"I was sure there's something else," John pauses, then continues. "I managed to sneak in with great effort. And I saw it. They were carrying several stretchers covered with cloth, but the black arms sticking out.... They went out through a very hidden passage. When they returned, the stretchers were empty."
Although Aidan had a guess, hearing the truth is still shocking. "So, people with the Dark Crystal Sickness finally turn into monsters? Is the Church restricting us to the mountains to protect us?"
"Who knows? Later, I was caught too, so I couldn't continue my investigation."
Aidan tosses and turns in bed. The contents of the book John mentioned haunt him. Since birth, all he has seen is The Firmament. He can't really picture the outside world. Finally, he falls asleep, lost in his imagination.
Chapter 5 :Farewell
Aidan is woken by noise. Many people seem to be gathered outside his house. His heart skips a beat. He quickly gets up and goes outside. Seeing the scene, his heart pounds violently.
Several Night Watchers are standing there. The leader is the man he saw at the Inquisition. They are holding someone: John.
Eric sees Aidan and walks straight towards him. "Hey, kid. I need to ask you some things."
"Sir, what's going on?" Aidan tries to act calm.
"Ah, as you see, this guy is being taken away again. A fellow 'heretic' of his at the Inquisition just revealed he knew the location of their research materials. The problem is, he refuses to admit it. Seems his previous 'repentance' was all lies." Eric waves his hand dismissively, but his eyes stay fixed on Aidan. "So, kid, did he tell you anything? People saw you two together."
"Sir, I don't know anything," Aidan's voice trembles slightly.
"Don't scare a child. He just ran errands for me. I told him nothing," a hoarse voice calls from the distance. Aidan glimpses the figure in the distance and is speechless.
"Is that so? Well, I don't have a habit of mistreating kids either. We'll take him away then."
Watching the receding figures, a strong sense of frustration wells up in Aidan. He knows he will never see John again. He takes a step forward and shouts at John, "What were you trying to do anyway?!" The group ahead stops. " I just wanted to go out to see the sky." Then, he turns his head and gives Aidan a deep look. "But... the thing I needed to do is finished."
Back home, Aidan sees his adoptive father sitting inside. He gathers his composure and is about to greet him when he hears unexpectedly, "John told you everything, didn't he?"
Aidan is stunned.
"Mr. Jonas,how did you..."
Then, Aidan sees this man, about John's age, let out a sigh. "He was my friend."
That night, Aidan thinks about what Mr. Jonas finally said to him: "Just focus on going to university from now on." But his mind is on John. His question to John in front of the guards wasn't too risky. What he really wanted to ask was: Didn't you say you had unfinished business? Are you really okay with being captured like this? And how did he answer?
Aidan recalls: he said his task was already completed. When? Aidan feels confused. He said he just wanted to see the sky. Hmm, the sky... The western woods! Aidan feels he needs to check it out.
Aidan sneaks out, running under the moonlight, and soon arrives at the place they met yesterday. Is there something special here? Aidan looks carefully. As he expected, he finds special marks on the trunks of some trees. He follows the marks until the end, where he notices the soil color is darker.
So, this is where they hid all the materials? Aidan looks at the wooden box in the pit, his hands covered in dirt. He lets out a helpless sigh. So, his unfinished business... was me?
For the next few days, Aidan secretly goes to the woods at night. It's troublesome, but safe. He finally reads the descriptions of the outside world in those books. Another night, Aidan stands before the box with a torch. Okay, I basically know the main contents now. It's too dangerous to keep this box here. Hmm. Aidan looks at the flame on the torch. Then, he throws the torch onto the box. Flames instantly leap up. Aidan turns around, planning to go home.
But at one moment, he stops.
Chapter 6 :Judgment
The morning sun shines on the land. Aidan prepares to leave for school. Before setting off, he throws a stack of papers into the fire. This is something he does every few days. After all, there were so many documents in the box. He needs to constantly recall them so he won't forget.
Apart from the small interruption caused by John those past few days, life is always so smooth. Aidan thinks this as he walks home at sunset. I can't do much right now. After I go to university, I'll collect more information, find some people... It might take over ten years.
Just as Aidan makes plans for the future, he sees a group of people standing at his doorstep again. The same guards. Aidan instantly recalls his actions these past few days. There shouldn't be any mistakes... right? As Aidan approaches, Eric sees him. This time, his expression is serious.
"It was just a precaution, but we actually found something. Explain this, kid. What is this?"
Aidan looks at the object in his hand. It's a stack of papers, with burn marks around the edges – the ones he threw into the fire this morning! What happened? Didn't they burn completely? Aidan's mind races. Meanwhile, Mr. Jonas seems to be trying to say something in his defense.
"I wrote it. Mr. Jonas knows nothing about it," Aidan says finally.
Eric looks at Aidan. He has been in the prison cell for three days now, looking much more haggard. He's only about five or six years older than my own daughter, Eric thinks.
"Considering it's your first offense, and you were influenced by John, as long as you admit your mistake during tomorrow's judgment and tell us the location of the hidden materials, you can still sign your university acceptance letter and have a bright future," he says, softening his tone.
Aidan nods slightly, showing he understands. After Eric leaves, Aidan sighs. I should have just burned that box. That day, he turned back and put out the fire. Even if I tell them the location, I can start over after getting out. I just need to put on an act in front of them tomorrow. Haven't I always been like this? Staying rational, saying the right thing at the right time. This is Aidan's creed for survival.
"Aidan, you have been led astray by heretics and have betrayed God. Do you admit your guilt?"
"Yes, sir."
The judge nods slightly. "Good. Considering the circumstances are not severe, reveal the location of the hidden heretical materials. Believe that God will forgive your sins. Sign your university acceptance letter, and you can still attend university to study theology, becoming a devout follower."
All eyes in the room are fixed on Aidan, including Mr. Jonas's. Aidan takes a deep breath and picks up his acceptance letter.
Rip— The letter is torn in half in his hands. Aidan lifts his head and says, word by word, "I refuse, sir."
Ah, it's really over now. Aidan is back in the cell. He feels his actions are completely unlike himself. Has he changed? Was it John's influence? Ever since learning about the world outside the mountains, he became uncontrollably curious.
The iron door opens, and Eric walks in. They sit facing each other across a table with two cups of water on it. Eric stares at Aidan, trying to read something from his expression. He simply doesn't understand. Actually, he started feeling this way earlier when interrogating others. Why would a group of heretics go to such lengths? He has always believed he is righteous. Anyone who might disrupt social stability is his enemy. Yes, that's right. He must maintain this society's stability. For his daughter, for everyone, at any cost.
He picks up his cup, takes a sip of water, and asks Aidan, "Was it worth it?" His tone carries a hint of undetectable anger. What awaits Aidan next is no longer just verbal interrogation.
It is as if Aidan hadn't heard what he said, continuing to speak on his own. "Ah, sir, did you know? Peony and Monkshood are both herbs commonly used by physicians. But when mixed together, they become highly poisonous."
Hearing this, Eric's eyes widen. Without thinking, he sticks a finger down his throat, trying to vomit the water he just drank.
"Don't be nervous, sir. I didn't put it in your cup."
Aidan smiles mischievously. What? Eric's movements halt. He stands up, looking at Aidan in disbelief, speechless for a long moment.
"Sir, please let me spend my final time alone," Aidan finally says.
Chapter 7 :The sky
The heavy iron door closes behind Aidan. Eric walks out of the Inquisition. The slightly chilly night air fills his lungs but fails to disperse the stagnation in his heart. The look in Aidan's eyes, that near-crazed calmness at the end, and the poison joke are like a thin thorn, pricking his firm belief. He shakes his head, trying to discard these distracting thoughts. For the order of the Holy City, for the peaceful lives of innocent people like his daughter Lena, some sacrifices are necessary. Thinking of Lena, a trace of tenderness finally appears on his face.
The night deepens. Moonlight and starlight stream through the window, illuminating Aidan's cell. Aidan's face is deathly pale. Drenched in sweat from the intense pain, his whole body is wet. I didn't expect it to hurt this much. Oh, I wonder what Mr. Jonas is doing now? Aidan's mind is already somewhat unclear. Absentmindedly, he lifts his head and looks at the iron window. He freezes.
For some reason, even though the window is so narrow, the starry sky he sees now seems clearer than ever before. It's as if only he and this patch of sky remain between heaven and earth. No window, no Firmament. He thinks, although he has never seen the sea, it must be as vast as the sky. The fragmented light reflects in Aidan's gradually dilating pupils. He looks up, gazing outside.
"So beautiful," he murmurs at the final moment of his life.
Chapter 8 :Lena
"Miss Lena, thank you so much. My leg feels better," an elderly woman says gratefully, holding Lena's hand.
Lena wipes the fine sweat from her temple and smiles gently. "I'm glad it helps. Remember not to walk too much."
After seeing the patient out, Lena begins tidying the herbs drying in the sun. Light passes through the window, shining on her golden hair. She looks quiet and content, but her clear gray eyes hold a stubbornness and curiosity. This curiosity isn't just for herbs, but also for this world sheltered by the Firmament.
The Holy City continues to function within the embrace of the Firmament. Beneath the surface piety and order, the Dark Crystal Sickness still appears like a ghost at irregular intervals, taking away one patient after another to that white, mysterious building – the Healing Sanctuary.
Lena is the daughter of Eric. Since her mother passed away from illness, she decided to become a physician to heal others. As an adult, relying on her accumulated knowledge and determination, she opens a small clinic on a relatively quiet street in the west of the city.
The clinic is small but filled with the fresh scent of herbs. Lena isn't one of those respected, white-robed physicians from the Healing Sanctuary. Her patients are mostly ordinary people suffering from headaches, fevers, or minor injuries. She uses herbs she collects and prepares herself to patiently alleviate their pain. Her wish is simple but firm: to heal more people. Especially when she thinks of those taken away by the Dark Crystal Sickness, who might never return, a sense of powerlessness always rises from the depths of her heart. This drives her to improve her skills further, dreaming that one day her research might contribute to fighting that terrible disease.
One day, in search of a rare herb used to treat stubborn coughs, Lena shoulders her basket and heads towards a remote woods near the edge of the Holy City, close to the foot of the Firmament. The plant varieties here are richer, but it also comes with the danger warned by the Church – getting too close to the mountains might expose one to the evil influence from "outside."
Lena carefully pushes through the bushes, searching intently. Years of gathering experience make her quite familiar with this area. Just as she is walking along a path, the ground suddenly gives way beneath her feet. Lena cries out in surprise and tumbles down a shallow slope, fortunately caught by dense vines. She sits up, her heart still pounding, and checks herself, only minor scratches. As she prepares to get up, her gaze is drawn to some unusual marks on the exposed section of the slope. They don't look like natural rock soil. The color is different. Driven by curiosity, she brushes away the loose dirt with her hand, discovering what seems to be a corner of a wooden box made of special material, already somewhat decayed, buried beneath.
"What is this...?" Lena's heartbeat quickens inexplicably. Who buries a box in such a remote place near the mountain foot, almost untouched by people? She recalls her father's occasional mentions that heretics often hide things. A trace of unease crosses her mind, but strong curiosity ultimately wins over.
She occasionally remembers the vague whispers about heretics in her father's work and the scenes from her childhood of patients being taken away. A sense of indescribable doubt always stirs within her. However, she knows that delving deeper into these matters is dangerous. She still has her clinic and patients to care for.
She carefully digs with her small shovel, putting in considerable effort before finally dragging the box out completely. The box is heavy, has no lock, only a rusted iron band. Lena takes a deep breath and pries open the lid with trembling hands.
The box is stuffed full of densely packed papers, notebooks, and some scattered sketches. The edges of these papers are charred, bearing signs of being burned. She picks up a letter lying on top. Although its paper is yellowed, it is noticeably newer than the books beneath. The handwriting on it is scrawled, and its contents make her hold her breath instantly.
"If you've found this box by accident, if you have doubts about the life around you, if you are confused and curious, if you have the courage to face the truth about the Dark Crystal Sickness, please read on. Or , if you're content with your current life, just forget about this box."
"By the way, if the contents of this box bring you any wealth, please give one-tenth to Mr. Jonas living at 112 Baker Street."
Lena's heart pounds. This is clearly left by heretics from the past. But what does it mean—the truth about the Dark Crystal Sickness? Could there be some hidden story? Lena struggles internally, but curiosity finally prevails. Perhaps there's information about a cure for the Dark Crystal Sickness inside, she thinks.
The books inside are not the evil incantations she had imagined, but rather some descriptions. They describe a vast, boundless blue body of water called the "sea", strange creatures unlike any animal found around the Holy City and then the truth of Dark Crystal Sickness. One page, written in conspicuous script, states: "...The Firmament is not shelter, but a prison..."
Lena's hands turn ice-cold, the papers rustling in her grasp. This information is too shocking, overturning everything she has learned since childhood. If this is true, what kind of terrible fate are those taken patients, her fellow people, suffering? A strong sense of resentment wells up inside her. She thinks of those people who have tearfully parted with their families, the hope for a "cure" that might still linger in their eyes... Is all this actually such a cruel lie!
She slumps to the ground, her mind in chaos. Reason tells her she should immediately destroy these dangerous heretical materials and pretend she has never found them. But the deep-seated desire for the truth, and her belief as a healer to save lives, make it impossible for her to turn away. She thinks of her father, the man who upholds order in the name of justice. Does he know about all this? Or is he part of this enormous lie?
No, I can't confirm the truth of this yet, Lena thought to herself, she needs to verify it personally.
The sky darkens, and the light in the woods grows dim. Lena calms down. The doubts that have always lingered in her mind now occupy her entire thoughts. Can the Dark Crystal Sickness really not be cured? What is the true nature of this illness? Why can the omnipotent crystal not cure the Dark Crystal Sickness alone? She finally makes a decision. She can't turn a blind eye to this. She needs evidence, needs to verify the contents of the notebook herself and find answers to her questions. And the most likely place to find evidence is the Healing Sanctuary.
"Good day, Captain. I'm Leo."
"I'm Miles."
Eric looks at the two eager-eyed young men before him and says impatiently, "So why do I have to train newcomers?" Time has left its marks on his face.
"They've admired you for a long time," says the man who brings them.
"Ah, Luther, you always dump the troublesome tasks on me."
"Who made you so famous?" laughs Luther. He is the same rank as Eric.
"Let me be clear upfront, this job isn't as easy as you think," Eric says to the two men.
Chapter 9 :The Healing Sanctuary
In the following days, Lena superficially continues to run her clinic, but her heart is in turmoil. She begins intentionally collecting information about the Healing Sanctuary, inquiring about ways to get inside. The Healing Sanctuary is heavily guarded, and its external recruitment is extremely strict. Lena's identity—the daughter of a Night Watcher—now becomes an obstacle, as the relationships between different Church departments are delicate, and the Healing Sanctuary might not be willing to accept someone potentially connected to the Inquisition.
However, opportunity always favors the prepared. Not long after, the Healing Sanctuary rarely posts a recruitment notice, needing a few assistants responsible for sorting and primary processing of herbs, requiring solid knowledge of herbalism. This is undoubtedly an opportunity made for Lena. Using her clinic's reputation and accumulated experience, she carefully prepares her application materials. After several rounds of strict assessment, Lena, relying on her excellent professional knowledge and steady performance, successfully secures the position. When she receives the notice of acceptance, she feels both the joy of success and the tension of entering the danger.
She is assigned to work in the herb processing room, a relatively peripheral area with no access to the core zones. But she keeps her purpose in mind, using every opportunity to observe. Since the Dark Crystal Sickness is incurable, what research has the Healing Sanctuary been conducting all these years? She has to find out.
She notices the strict hierarchy within the Healing Sanctuary. Low-level assistants like her have severely restricted movement. The areas designated as "patient wards" are guarded by specialized personnel, off-limits to unauthorized people. She tries asking some senior, seemingly kind physicians about the recovery of patients. They either give vague answers or immediately sternly warn her not to inquire into matters unrelated to her duties.
One evening, she is assigned overtime to help deliver a batch of newly arrived herbs to a warehouse. While passing through a secluded corridor, she accidentally overhears two people in high-ranking physician's white robes talking in low voices.
"... the output from Tank Three is starting to decline. The energy purity isn't sufficient either."
"It won't last much longer. Prepare it; dispose of it on the next 'Purification' day. New raw materials will arrive tomorrow, said to be of good quality."
"Understood. The higher-ups are pressing for a batch of high-purity Foundation Crystals for the maintenance. Need to hurry up."
"Don't worry, we can still squeeze some value out of a few of the old ones..."
Lena's heart almost stops. She presses herself against the wall in the shadows, not daring to breathe.
"Raw materials," "dispose of," "Foundation Crystals"... These cold terms combine and flood Lena's mind. What... does this mean? Crystals? Raw materials? Weren't the Crystals a blessing from God? Lena suddenly realizes she has never thought about where the Crystals come from.
Could it be that the Healing Sanctuary has been producing Crystals all along? And what are the 'raw materials'? Does this have any connection to patients? Lena doesn't dare to think further. Holding her breath, she quietly slips away into the darkness.
Fear overwhelms Lena. She seems to have accidentally stumbled upon a shocking secret, far more staggering than the one about the Dark Crystal Sickness itself. But should she leave now? Perhaps just one more step, and the whole truth would become clear. Lena sits alone in her room, clenching her fists, thinking quietly.
The opportunity comes during an unexpected commotion. A few days later, a minor accident seems to occur within the Healing Sanctuary, causing guards from some areas to be temporarily reassigned. Lena realizes this might be her only chance. She takes advantage of the chaos to slip out of the herb room. Relying on her memory and a simple map she has secretly drawn earlier, she heads towards the area that has never been open to people like her.
The roar of the machine comes from the depths of the corridor. She avoids the guards and slips into a room. Lena is stunned by the sight inside. Unlike its holy white exterior, the interior is filled with the low hum of various strange operating equipment. The air smells of disinfectant, herbs, and an indescribable, peculiar odor similar to a mix of metal and energy. Transparent tubes are connected to the instruments, with faint remnants of dark energy flow visible inside. To the side of the room stand open metal boxes, piled high with black crystals. Unlike the common, transparent crystals, these appear somewhat turbid, but with a strange luster faintly moving within.
Lena suddenly, inappropriately, remembers a neighbor of hers who has contracted the Dark Crystal Sickness. He doesn't want to be taken to the Healing Sanctuary and has hidden at home, even asking for her help to treat him. Having delayed too long, Lena has once accidentally seen the black crystals forming on her arm. Footsteps seem to approach from afar. She has no time to think. Quickly, she grabs a few of the crystals, stuffs them into her pocket, and flees.
Lena stares fixedly at the few black crystals on the table. Her hands and feet are as cold as if frozen in an ice cellar. Now, everything is clear. The patient might not be sick but someone who possesses the power like the crystal. The Healing Sanctuary, which purports to cure the Dark Crystal disease, has been extracting life all along.
Lena finds it ironic, and at the same time, she feels powerless. She now feels as if all strength has been drained from her body. She doesn't know what to do anymore. Everything seems meaningless.
Chapter 10 :Night Escape
"You begin, Leo," Eric says, having demonstrated for the two of them, then turns his gaze to him.
Leo swallows hard, his hand trembling as he takes the bloody pair of pliers. He looks at the person tied to the wooden chair before him. The horrific scenes from earlier still flash before his eyes. He has been too naive before, thinking catching heretics is the end of it. He hasn't realized it is just the beginning. Leo closes his eyes tightly, finally gritting his teeth and saying, "I'm sorry, sir, I can't do it."
"Expected," Eric shrugs.
"He's already in this state... probably won't talk anymore..."
"This is only the beginning. Miles, you finish it for him."
Outside the cell, seeing Eric leave, Leo breathes a sigh of relief "Thanks, Miles. That kind of thing is just too much for me."
Miles pats his shoulder. "It's fine. You'll get used to it slowly."
"Get used to it..." Leo murmurs.
Lena takes leave from the Healing Sanctuary and returns to her clinic. The harsh truth has left her reeling for days. She needs more time to think about what to do next. The evidence she currently has is still too scant...
Footsteps sound at the clinic door. "Hello, how can I help—" Lena looks up and freezes the moment she recognizes the visitors. Several Night Watchers stand outside.
"Lena, correct? You are under arrest on suspicion of heresy."
Lena's eyes widen, but she forces calmness. "Sir, there must be some mistake."
Luther waves his hand dismissively. "Whether it's a mistake or not, we'll find out with a search."
The pile of crystals is quickly found. "This is no mistake now. Possessing crystals privately? What else if not heresy?"
Lena knows she is finished.
"Sir Luther, isn't that enough? She hasn't said anything," Leo says unbearably, hearing the screams from inside.
"Carry out the execution tomorrow morning then."
"...Yes." Leo hesitates for a long moment but ultimately can't find the words to say.
After Leo leaves, Luther slowly allows a smile to curl his lips. Eric used to be his subordinate, but now they are the same rank. If this continues, Eric will soon surpass him. He has brooded over this for a long time until he suddenly remembers Eric has a daughter working at the Healing Sanctuary. If his daughter is involved in something, it will affect his career too, right? Thinking this, he can't help but marvel at his own good luck. He has been prepared to frame Lena with heresy charges no matter what, and has even prepared things to plant on her before the arrest. But as it turns out, he has stumbled upon the real thing, saving a lot of trouble.
Lena sits in her cell, her eyes vacant. She suddenly thinks of her father. She wonders how he is doing now.
The door opens. Leo walks in.
"I told you, I don't know anything," Lena says weakly.
Leo walks behind Lena and suddenly begins unlocking her chains. He speaks as if to himself, "Miss, you must escape. Your execution is scheduled for tomorrow morning. I've prepared a horse for you. Run. Escape to a place where no one knows you, start a new life."
Lena moves her freed hands, watching him quietly.
Yes, that's right. I must live. My task isn't finished yet. Her gaze grows firm.
"Thank you."
Under the cover of night, Leo watches silently as Lena's figure disappears into the distance. He doesn't know if what he does is right. He just feels she is too pitiful.
"Sir, Lena has been set free by Leo."
Hearing the news, Luther feels it is within expectations. He looks deeply at the messenger. "Proceed with the execution as planned for tomorrow morning. I only care about the result. Since Leo made the mistake, he will bear the consequences. After tomorrow morning, inform Eric of his daughter's death."
"You must be joking, right? How could my daughter be a heretic? She was so obedient..." Eric says, unable to believe the terrible news.
"I'm afraid it's the truth," comes the reply.
Eric seems to have all the strength drain from his body, collapsing to the ground. It is early morning, and the world outside is just beginning to stir awake.
Chapter 11 :The Cage
Lena grinds herbs, the regular scrape of pestle against mortar has repeated for thirteen years. Yet it always tugs her thoughts back to that cage called the Healing Sanctuary. Her narrow escape is a scar that never heals, branded on the path of her life. The truth she carries is a chain she can never take off, and the only reason she keeps living.
This clinic in the border town is her carefully rebuilt fortress and her prison too. The town sits on the edge of the Holy City's rule, far from the Inquisition's eyes. But the heavy outline of the Firmament still looms clear on the horizon, reminding her of her situation every moment. The clinic is simpler, but it's just as filled with the sharp scent of herbs. The difference? A hidden compartment holds her life's work over thirteen years—a manuscript titled The Blessing of Dark Crystal Sickness. In plain, simple words, she writes the truth: Dark Crystal Sickness isn't a disease, but the awakening of hidden power. She exposes where crystals really come from and how the Healing Sanctuary drains people's energy, adding her own guesses about the energy transfer process based on her herb knowledge. She firmly believes that if this power is guided right, it's not a curse—but another kind of gift, just one no one understands yet. This book is her only weapon against that huge lie.
Life is quiet, almost frozen. She heals the townspeople's bodies, but can't heal the emptiness and wariness in her own heart. Her father Eric's face sometimes appears in her dreams.
Just then, the clinic's flimsy wooden door slams open, bringing in a gust of hurried wind.
A man steps in, around thirty years old, wearing burlap clothes covered in mud and grass. He's Aaron, a local farmer. Lena recognizes him—quiet but quick with his hands. He sometimes comes to town to sell mountain goods, and once came to her for medicine after a work injury. He's a steady man of few words. But now, his face is tight, his breathing fast. His eyes are scared, under heavy pressure.
"Miss Lena," he says, his voice hoarse from running but clear and even, as if he's forcing himself to stay calm. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm in trouble."
Lena's heart tightens, but her face stays calm. She quickly shuts the clinic door, bolts it, hands him a cup of water. "What kind of trouble?" she asks softly, her fingertips a little cold.
Aaron doesn't hesitate to drink the water, then speaks fast and quietly: "I set traps in my usual spot in West Hollow and found this." He pulls something from his chest—a small, uneven black crystal shard with sharp edges, faint energy glowing faintly inside,I just thought it was strange, so I brought it back. Just now at the town gate, the guard saw it. He recognized it and asked where I got it."
He pauses, looks up at Lena, "I just said I found it in the mountains, but they didn't believe me."I made an excuse to run out and have been hiding for four days. They must be searching for me in town now. Miss Lena, I figured you've seen a lot and know your stuff, so I came to ask you. ”
Lena looked at the black crystal. It is exactly as she remembered. " Aaron, you don't have to explain to them—they won't listen," she said. Lena knows how those people operated. Anyone even slightly involved would end up in trouble.
Aaron freezes for a second, and then he realizes something. He stands up right away. "Alright, I get it, Miss Lena. I'll leave right now, as if I was never here."
"Wait," Lena stops him. She looks at this man who's been dragged into the mess innocently, and sighs silently to herself. Maybe this is her fate. Thirteen years of hiding and standing still might have been for this very moment. Her heart might have died long ago, either when she finished writing that book, or even earlier. She no longer has the energy to let the book be known to the world, and this could be the chance.
Just then, faint noisy voices and the clink of metal armor drift over, getting closer to the clinic.
Aaron's body tenses and he looks at Lena sharply: "They're coming."
Lena's face turns serious at once. She has already made up her mind. Without hesitation, she hurries to the corner, moves a seemingly fixed medicine cabinet, and takes out a thick manuscript carefully wrapped in cloth from the hidden compartment behind it.
"Aaron," she shoves the bundle into his arms, her grip firm, her eyes burning as she stares at him. "Listen—this is worth a thousand times more than your life, my life, even this crystal. It's the truth. Now take it and escape through the back—go as far as you can."
"...Miss Lena, what are you doing? Besides, I've never been to school and can't read."
"You don't need to understand it," Lena says, her words fast but clear. "But you need to give it to someone who can truly understand it. You just have to tell them this is the truth about the Holy City. Go out the back window, head west, into the mountains, and hide. If… if you meet someone you can trust,give this to him! Understand?"
"And you?"
"Me? I will stay here and I can buy you some time."
Footsteps stop outside the door. Rough knocks and shouts ring out: "Open up! Searching for a fugitive!"
Aaron takes a deep breath, tucks the bundle quickly into his loose shirt, and ties it tight. He looks at Lena, his eyes complex—grateful, serious. He nods firmly: "I understand."
"Go," Lena finally smiles, pointing to the back window leading to the mountains.
At the exact moment the wooden door slams open and several guards burst in, Lena's eyes fall on the table—the black crystal Aaron brings glows faintly.
No hesitation, no fear. Thirteen years pass. The truth is too heavy, this cage too suffocating. She is tired.
At that instant, there is no sorrow in her heart—only a nearly calm resolve.
She grabs the crystal, gathers all her strength, and smashes it hard against the floor.
“Boom——!”
Blinding white light swallows everything. A deafening roar is the last sound in her consciousness. The wave lifts her like an invisible giant's hand, and searing pain shoots through her body in an instant.
Before being completely consumed, she seems to see Aaron's steady, retreating figure, and the "Blessing" that travels with him.
Finally… free.
That is her last thought.
When Eric arrives with more men, the smoke in the clinic has not yet cleared. The room is in complete chaos, and several charred bodies are unrecognizable.
He pauses at the door. His cloudy eyes reflect the mess, and his pupils shrink slightly. Another one… the madness of heretics. A familiar tremor, mixed with anger and a kind of emptiness, rushes through his heart. Since Lena dies, a void has been carved into his life. He stubbornly believes that those damn heretical ideas tempted her, leading her down a path of no return. For this, he does not hesitate to travel thousands of miles, frantically putting out any signs related to heretics, as if this can fill that void.
What do we do now?" his subordinate asks.
"There might be some who got away. Keep chasing along this road."
Chapter 1 2:Tyler
The silence in Saint Meir's small chapel is almost thick enough to swallow everything. Tyler sets down the silver cup he polishes countless times. His gaze drifts over the empty pews and settles on the sky outside the window. This is not where he is meant to be. He was once one of the most promising young men in the Church. He studies history not out of a pure love for truth, but sees it as a bargaining chip. He has an eye for finding valuable clues in dusty old texts and an ambition to climb the ranks using them. Those forgotten, carefully concealed fragments of the past, if used cleverly, can be written into significant articles. Perhaps they can help him catch the eye of higher-ups, and even gain the status and renown he craves.
It is precisely this ambition that caused trouble months ago. He secretly pores over a batch of "questionable" archives concerning the Holy City's early architectural structure, trying to find evidence that can overturn traditional understanding and make his name, when he is discovered and charged with impure intent. He is banished to this forgotten corner. His thwarted ambition keeps him tormented daily under suppression and resentment.
Towards evening, the chapel door creaks open. The man who enters is ragged and covered in mud. His eyes, tired and wary, hold not sheer panic, but a heavy calm, the kind that follows a great upheaval.
Tyler frowns but offers a piece of bread and a cup of water. Aaron thanks him quietly, eating quickly but not frantically, his eyes occasionally scanning Tyler and his surroundings with caution.
"Do you need help?" Tyler asks, going through the motions.
"Sir… can you let me stay here for a few days?"
"Sure." Tyler replies indifferently.
Aaron nods and says no more. For the next two days, he stays in a corner of the chapel, helping sweep and tidy the scattered prayer books, his movements efficient and silent. Tyler notices he always clutches a square, cloth-wrapped bundle tightly to his chest. It is not food, nor does it look like ordinary valuables. What intrigues Tyler more is Aaron's expression when he is alone; he looks at the bundle with sadness, hesitation, and a deep, thoughtful concern. At the same time, he notices that Aaron looks at himself from time to time
As night deepens, only a few lamps flicker in the small chapel, stretching Tyler's figure into long shadows. Aaron has sat motionless in the corner's darkness for a long time, watching the young church worker.
Finally, Aaron stands, his footsteps light as he approaches, stopping a few paces from Tyler.
"Sir," he says, his voice low and naturally hoarse.
Tyler jolts from his thoughts, looking up with a hint of annoyance. "Yes?"
Aaron does not answer immediately. His eyes sweep over the papers spread across the table, covered in dense handwriting, then return to Tyler. "I'm Aaron. I was just wondering… a man of your learning—why stay in a place… so quiet?" He chooses his words carefully, avoiding terms like "remote" or "dilapidated."
Tyler's eyes flicker, but it is quickly masked. "Serving the God is the same wherever you are," he replies with a standard, perfunctory answer.
"Is it?" Aaron's tone is flat, neither questioning nor stating. "But I think not all things are the same, and not all places either." He pauses, as if organizing his thoughts. "Here, day after day, polishing these… well, sweeping the floors. What do you do it for? To be… closer to God?"
Tyler lets out a soft snort, barely audible, yet in the silent chapel, it does not escape Aaron's ears. "Closer to God?" he repeats, a faint trace of irony in his voice. "Perhaps. But isn't understanding the traces God left behind—history, for instance—also a form of service?"
"Traces left by God…" Aaron nods thoughtfully, his calloused fingers brushing the hem of his clothes. "So you're searching for these traces? " His gaze fixed firmly on Tyler's face.
Tyler sits up slightly, almost imperceptibly. He has keenly picked up the hint in Aaron's words. "The value of a trace lies in itself," he responds neutrally, "A true… researcher does not refuse to understand a trace just because it's buried deep or has an odd shape. Understanding is meaning in itself."
Aaron falls silent. He understands Tyler's thought. This man is interested in "hidden traces," he pursues "understanding"—but what is the purpose of that understanding? Is it for pure knowledge, or something else? Aaron cannot be sure. But he senses that Tyler is different from other priests. There is a fire within him, and even if that fire burns for his own sake, it may be enough to burn through some of the pretense covering the truth.
The risk is enormous. If his judgment is wrong, Miss Lena's sacrifice and his own flight will have been for nothing.
After a long while, Aaron seems to make up his mind. He lifts his eyes, his gaze regaining its former steadiness, even adding a touch of resolve. "I see, sir," he says, no longer pressing his questions but giving Tyler a deep look. "Some things, buried in the earth, may truly die. Perhaps… they need to meet someone who is willing to 'understand' them."
With that, he says no more, turning to walk back to his corner. This brief, guarded conversation is like a key, turning the lock in Aaron's heart. He decides to take a gamble—to bet that Tyler's longing for "traces" and "understanding" will overcome his fear of danger, whatever the source of that longing.
That seemingly casual yet undercurrent-ridden conversation that night is like a stone cast into a calm lake, sending ripples through both men's hearts.
Aaron sits on a bench not far from Tyler, no longer hiding in the corner's shadows as he did the previous two days. His back is straighter than usual, his gaze fixed on the dancing candle flames, as if peering through the warm glow to examine some momentous decision. His fingers unconsciously stroke the hard edges of the cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms, over and over, as if confirming its existence and weight one last time.
Tyler can feel that steady gaze on his back. He does not turn around, but the speed at which he flips through the tedious doctrine in his hands slows noticeably, his mind restless. He knows the farmer named Aaron is hiding a secret.
Finally, Aaron stands, his footsteps steady as he approaches Tyler's desk, no hesitation, no shrinking back. He first places the cloth bundle gently on the corner of the table.
"Sir," he begins, his voice calmer than the rain tapping against the windows, breaking the room's silence, "the other day you said you wanted to understand traces."
Tyler looks up, meeting Aaron's eyes, only a settled, almost solemn calm. A flicker of something stirs in Tyler's chest, and he sets down his pen.
"I did," Tyler replies cautiously, his gaze involuntarily drifting to the bundle.
Aaron follows his line of sight to the package, then back to Tyler, his tone as steady as if recounting something unrelated to himself: "I've gotten myself into a bit of trouble, but that doesn't matter. What matters is this bundle—it was entrusted to me with someone's life."
He pauses. "Inside is the truth about the Holy City."
Even now, Aaron does not fully grasp what that means.
"Who gave you this?" Tyler's voice tightens slightly, nodding toward the oilcloth wrap.
"A physician. Her name is Lena." Aaron's answer is simple, yet when he speaks the name, a flicker of almost imperceptible pain crosses the depths of his eyes. "She saved many people—saved me, too. " He pauses, emphasizing his words: "Her life, and mine—combined, they're not worth as much as this."
"Why are you telling me?"
"I'm not choosing to tell you the truth, sir. I'm choosing to give it to someone who might 'understand' it." He skillfully repeats and emphasizes the very word Tyler used himself. "I can see you can't do what you want here. As for what you choose to do after seeing it" He shakes his head, his gaze open and honest, "I can't control that, nor do I want to guess. Miss Lena only told me to give it to 'someone who might understand.' I've thought long and hard—maybe that someone is you."
"I can't read. This thing is useless to me. When I die, it will either rot away with me or fall into the hands of those who only want it to disappear forever. Miss Lena's death will have been for nothing." Aaron glances at the bundle one last time, as if saying a final goodbye. "Now—it's yours."
Tyler stares blankly at the bundle on the table, then at Aaron, who stands as steady as a stone beside him. This trust, transcending life and death, weighs heavily on Tyler's heart, yet it also ignites the fire deep within him—a mix of ambition and curiosity.
He reaches out, his fingertips brushing the cold, rough cloth, and slowly pulls the bundle toward himself.
The subsequent reading was like a thunderclap in his mind. Lena's clear records of the truth, fragments of ancient notes, inferences about energy extraction and the origin of the monsters… It was far more complete and far more disruptive than any clue he had ever found! His fingers trembled slightly with excitement. With this, he could not only clear his name but leap to becoming the hero who exposed an earth-shattering secret! Fame, status… seemed within reach.
He made his decision instantly. The bishop in this area was known for his progressive views. He himself had also seen him before and had a favorable impression of him. If he could gain the bishop's support and directly expose these pieces of evidence, the impact would be immeasurable.
At that moment, he notices a letter tucked among the papers. "What's this?"
He opens the letter, and there is only one short sentence inside. He reads softly: "If the contents of this box bring you any wealth, please give one-tenth to Mr. Jonas living at 112 Baker Street."
“Mr. Jonas? Who is that?"
Aaron thinks for a moment, shakes his head. Miss Lena never mentioned that name.
"Hmm... Then it's settled. When things work out, I get ninety percent and you ten."
"But aren't we supposed to give some to Mr. Jonas?"
"We don't even know him. Besides, the investment costs a lot of money."
"Then I want twenty percent."
Eli glances at him and says "Whatever."
"We have to get out of here," Tyler hisses, his tone sharp with unshakable resolve. "This thing can't stay here. You're coming with me—we need to find someone, someone who might…"
His words trail off abruptly.
Outside the church, chaotic, heavy footsteps draw near, closing in on the small chapel fast.
Aaron's expression darkens instantly. He leaps to his feet, pricking up his ears. No words are needed—their pursuers have arrived.
In a split second, a thought flashes through Tyler's mind. He snatches his usual small notebook from the table, tears out a blank page in a hurry. Too desperate to find ink, he dips his fingertip directly into the wax that has congealed around the edge of the candlestick on the table, scribbling furiously in a near-mad, messy hand.
"Aaron!" Tyler shoves the paper into Aaron's palm. “Listen! Get out the back window—now! Send this off!"
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine. They don't know me." Tyler grabs the cloth bundle and hides it away. "We part ways here."
Aaron opens his mouth, but only manages to say, "Take care."
As soon as Aaron's figure vanishes through the back window, a heavy knock pounds on the church's flimsy wooden door.
"Open up—we're searching for suspects." Moments later, a group of guards files in. Leading them is Eric, his gaze sweeping the entire church like a hawk's before settling on Tyler, who stands alone in the center.
Tyler frowns, his voice laced with irritation. "May I ask what brings you gentlemen here in the middle of the night?"
Eric's tone is casual, almost dismissive. "Ah, desperate times call for desperate measures. We're hunting fugitives."
"My humble chapel sees only devout believers. Who else would venture here?"
Eric does not answer immediately. His sharp eyes scan every corner of the church, including the slightly swaying back window. "We're in pursuit of a dangerous heretic named Aaron. According to our leads, he may have fled here. Have you seen anyone suspicious?"
"No!" Tyler replies firmly.
Eric stares at him for several seconds, his eyes seem to pierce straight into Tyler's soul.
"Is that so?" Eric says noncommittally, then waves a hand, signaling his men to search.
"It seems we've caused a disturbance," Eric's tone softens slightly after the search, though the scrutiny in his eyes lingers. "If you notice anything unusual, report it to us at once."
By the middle of the night, the wind and rain die down. Tyler changes into dark civilian clothes, binds the cloth bundle tightly to his chest, and covers it with a loose, tattered robe. He takes a deep breath, carefully opens a side door of the church, and vanishes into the shadows cast by the buildings.
He thinks he moves unseen, but from the moment he steps foot outside the church, two pairs of eyes in the darkness lock onto him. The two guards exchange a glance—one creeps silently after him, while the other turns, hurrying to report Tyler's suspicious movements to Eric.
Tyler clutches the cloth bundle to his chest, darting through the narrow alleyways like a specter. He can hear his heart thundering in his ears, and the relentless footsteps lingering just behind him,
"So cautious," Tyler mutters bitterly.
He dares not glance back, only pushing forward with all his might. If he can just cross that threshold, lay bare the truth before the bishop known for his open-mindedness, perhaps he can turn the tide.
He quickens his pace, nearly breaking into a run. The iron gates of the church are just dozens of steps ahead.
"Halt!"
A cold, sharp command rings out from behind.
At the same time, several guards emerge from the side streets, blocking Tyler's path.
"Where are you off to in the dead of night?" Eric strides forward slowly, his gaze fixing on the bundle Tyler clutches tightly to his chest.
Tyler knows pretense is useless.
"You have no right to stop me!" Tyler's voice is hoarse with emotion, but he strains to make it ring out. "What I hold is the truth buried for three hundred years! Everyone has the right to know it!"
"The truth?" Eric scoffs, advancing step by step. "Your so-called truth is nothing but poison woven by heretics to deceive the masses and destroy order! Hand it over, and for the sake of that robe you wear, perhaps we can show mercy."
Tyler clings fiercely to the bundle, attempting to charge through the guards. They move to subdue him, and chaos erupts in an instant. Desperate, Tyler pulls the small knife he carries and waves it wildly, trying to fend them off.
A flash of cold steel!
In the melee, someone's strength spirals out of control. A dull, wet thud echoes—one guard's sword plunges straight into Tyler's side.
Tyler's body freezes abruptly, all movement and sound cutting off. He opens his mouth, but no sound escapes; strength drains from him as warm blood spills forth, and he slides down the cold stone wall to the ground.
Almost simultaneously, the knife Tyler waves blindly in his final movement accidentally strikes Eric. Eric grunts, clutching his wound as his face drains of color, stumbling backward to lean against the opposite wall.
For a moment, only ragged gasps and the stench of blood hang in the air outside the church.
Chapter 13 :The buried history
A slow, creaking squeak—the church's wooden door swings open from the inside.
Bishop Luther stands in the doorway, draped in a simple black robe. His gaze sweeps over the dying Tyler on the ground, then settles on Eric.
"Long time no see. Eric. What happened to you?"
He looks at Eric, whose life is slipping away. Eric's haggard appearance now is nothing like it was more than ten years ago.
Eric speaks weakly: "Sorry to bother you. We're chasing heretics, but something goes wrong now…" He breaks into violent coughs right after.
Luther notices the bundle Tyler dropped nearby. He tells the remaining guards to leave and picks up the bundle.
Luther flicks through the books inside casually. Tyler, on the side, is at the point of death, but he forces himself up and says eagerly to Luther: "My lord, we have been lied to all along. This is the hidden truth!"
"So… it finally comes to this." Luther's voice is clear in the night. He looks down at Tyler, a flash of pity in his eyes. "Young man, why do you think I don't know?"
Tyler freezes. He tries to speak but only coughs up a few streaks of blood.
"My lord, what do you mean? Aren't these… just the heretics' nonsense?" Eric looks shocked.
Luther turns to Eric, who is barely staying awake with sheer willpower. "Eric, you've always believed you're upholding order and wiping out evil."
He pauses, then his gaze falls back on the things in his hand."There is no need for further struggle, " he says, as if stating a fate long sealed. "What you chase—this so-called 'truth'… we have always known it."
The words land like a final judgment, leaving both Tyler and Eric frozen, their pain momentarily forgotten.
"Three hundred years ago…" Luther begins, his voice seeming to drift from the depths of history, "…the Dark Crystal Sickness was not a curse. It was… a seed of power. A handful of people awakened to it by chance, gaining abilities beyond ordinary humans.
Phantoms of the past flicker in his eyes. "Power… bred difference. And difference… irreversibly spawned hierarchy. At first, there was perhaps restraint. But soon, desire spread like wildfire. Those with power began to dominate the unawakened. Society lost its balance in the face of absolute power and corruption took root at its core, morality crumbled, and civilization twisted and rotted beneath the very power it had birthed, sliding step by step toward the abyss of self-destruction…"
Tyler's pupils widen. The "discovery" he had chased, hoping to gain fame and status, was rooted in such darkness and despair.
"Then…" Luther continues, his tone as heavy as a mountain, "…a group of early power holders who had not yet been fully consumed by their abilities, along with a handful of clear-sighted ordinary people, witnessed all this—and felt a profound, bone-chilling fear and despair. They realized that this unchecked power, this inevitable absolute inequality born from it, would eventually lead everyone to ruin. So our ancestors… made a cruel, resolute choice."
His gaze sweeps over the dying Tyler and the gravely wounded Eric. "They launched a… purge of their own. They deemed the uncontrolled awakening of this power a 'disease' that must be eradicated, and suppression and 'purification' as the only salvation. Using the last of their gathered strength and resources, they built this colossal cage—The Firmament. Not to keep out imaginary monsters, but to isolate their 'infected' brethren, ensuring that the history of corruption and near-destruction fueled by power would never repeat itself."
"The Church… the Healing Sanctuary… everything we do is not for dominion—at least, not initially. "
Silence falls again, heavier than before. Only the wind moans as it brushes against the ancient stone walls.
Luther has known this ever since he cleared many obstacles to become a bishop—but what does it matter? As long as the church stands, he always upholds this order.
Before leaving, he takes one last look at the two men. He sighs to himself—truth may be known by the world, but not now. If the church is ever attacked in the future, he will leave without hesitation. After all, history has stood still for far too long.
The ambition, anger, and resentment in Tyler's eyes are finally replaced by a profound, absurd realization. He had thought he was challenging authority, but in truth, he had touched the curse a civilization had imposed upon itself to survive.
Eric leans against the wall, his consciousness fading. He only thinks, if there truly is a God, then please punish this sinner and let my daughter ascend to heaven.
The inky black of the eastern sky begins to fade. Then, streaks of golden light pierce through the thick clouds like sharp swords.
The last thing Tyler sees is the magnificent, vast sky dyed by the rising sun—still framed, inevitably, by The Firmament.
So beautiful…
Chapter 1 4:Cycle
"Morning, Raphael."
"Morning, Mrs. Smith."
"Heard you're off to university. Congratulations!"
"Yes, thank you."
Baker Street was just as it always was. Raphael walked along the street, his mind buzzing with excitement about starting university. Let's see, what should I study...
"Hello, are you Mr. Jonas?" A delivery man stood at a doorway, inquiring.
The person opposite him sounded puzzled. "Jonas? Who's that? You must have the wrong address."
"Baker Street... Number 112... Jonas, that's right. Got a letter here for him. Let me see... something called 'The Blessing of the Dark Crystal'."
"This building has had so many tenants over the years. The fellow you're talking about must have moved away ages ago."
The conversation from nearby drifted into his consciousness like background noise.
Raphael overheard it and inwardly scoffed. The Blessing of the Dark Crystal? How could that be? More like a curse.
The usual hustle and bustle of the street continued around him. He gradually slowed his pace, then finally came to a complete stop.
"A blessing..."
