"So, what's this history of the Incantatrix?" Aubrey asked after they settled inside the cathedral. She sat cross-legged on the floor with Thaddeus and Liza beside her, while Cedric remained standing before them.

Cedric straightened up, his wings folded neatly behind him. "I shall endeavor to summarize this as best I can. Please forgive any omissions or gaps. But before that, since you are not a native denizen of Mordenstradt, I'll start with a general history lesson of the city-state in its nascent stage."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say. Fire away."

He cleared his throat, wings flexing a bit for emphasis.

"The history of Mordenstradt is as old as the stones beneath your feet," he began, his deep voice resonating in the dimly lit cathedral. "The city has not always been the bastion of innovation and progress as it stands today. Long before the first smokestacks were built, before the streets bustled with mechanized carriages and arcane lamps, the city was very different. Darker."

Aubrey leaned back against the cold stone wall, folding her arms as she listened. She didn’t really care for history lessons, but the way Cedric spoke held a certain gravity that kept her from completely zoning out.

The gargoyle gestured at the stained glass windows around them, his claws casting flickering shadows across their vivid colors. "The city wasn't always called Mordenstradt. Back then, it was known as Veridor. The first settlers to this region found the lands bountiful, but also perilous. Ancient eldritch creatures, powerful undead monstrosities, and horrifying abominations plagued the land."

"What's the difference between those and Unhallowed?" Aubrey butted in. This might shed some light on her own condition or help her understand a bit better.

Cedric smiled knowingly, tapping his chin with a single stone digit.

"Eldritch creatures are beings of such immense size, complexity, or scale that they're nigh incomprehensible. Most of the time, just viewing their horrific form causes debilitating, long-term harm to the mortal mind. Think of these beings as god-like entities that warps the world around them by mere existence."

Aubrey shuddered. Yeah, no way in hell she'd mess with something like that.

"Then there's undead monstrosities..." he continued. "Those are reanimated corpses made by an accursed plague born from one of those god-like beings. They vary in size, form, and threat level. Common folk reanimate as feral shamblers, animals mutate into hideous beasts, and I can go on. Their sole purpose is to consume, infect, and create more of their kind."

"That's like... Zombies! I've seen those in horror flicks and games," Aubrey burst out, pumping her fist. She loved the occasional good ol' fashioned zombie action. Maybe these zombie-like creatures here weren't so bad then. She could do her own zombie-killing badassery in real life!

Except Cedric wasn't done.

"And finally, there are abominations. What people call 'Unhallowed' belonged to the broader classification of abominations. Their genesis is tied to those accursed beings and the fallout that comes with their presence in this mortal plane. Abominations thrive on the instability of reality. Unhallowed manifest differently from one another, given their intrinsic relationship with their humanity. Their transformations often reflect this struggle."

"...O-oh..." She shrugged, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly as he finished explaining. "Okay... So then what happened? How'd the city change from Veridor to Mordenstradt?"

Liza rested her head on Aubrey's shoulder as she listened. Her silky dark hair brushed against Aubrey's cheek, tickling it ever so slightly. It almost distracted her from the weight of Cedric's words. Thaddeus also chimed in, emitting a noise somewhere between a hum and a low whine before his gears hissed in apparent agreement.

Aubrey ran her fingers through her hair. She leaned forward attentively.

"The settlers weren't powerless," Cedric explained, resuming his tale. "The people of that time revered four deities—The Sovereign Incantatrix, the Lord of Iron Flame, the Seraph of the Silver Dawn, and the Mistress of the Labyrinthine Waters. In response to the rising threats, the population's faith grew strong, birthing disciples amongst their ranks. Those blessed men and women joined forces against the tide of abominations and forged an alliance. They organized themselves and armed their kin, driving back the horrors bit by bit."

"Four gods, huh?" Aubrey murmured. "Figures. There's always four. Gotta keep things symmetrical." She smirked at her own sarcasm but kept her eyes on Cedric.

He paused for a moment, eyes closing as though lost in thought.

Aubrey waited patiently.

When he opened them again, there seemed to be an air of wistfulness in his voice. "Eventually, Veridor prospered despite the hardships faced. Years turned into decades, then centuries passed. By that time, most of the Unhallowed fell along with the older, primordial eldritch entities."

"Dang... These disciples sounded badass back in the day," she mused aloud. "Wish I could've seen how rad they were."

"Verily. Such historical persons of note wouldst present a marvelous sight indeed," Thaddeus quipped, echoing her sentiments.

Liza remained silent but nodded in agreement.

"But society continued to advance and grow as they left the threats behind," Cedric continued, his wings fluttering slightly at his back as he resumed his pace. "There came a turning point—a cusp of change known as the Age of Dissolution. The rise of industry—steam, steel, and technomancy—altered the very fabric of society. What was once sacred became secondary, and the old ways were... discarded."

"So... wait, they just gave up on the gods? How does that even happen? One day, they just woke up and decided, 'Eh, let's stop believing in the gods? We've got cool tools and toys now?' That's bonkers!"

"Not quite," Cedric corrected gently. "The rise of industrialism and progress led to a waning faith and a shift in belief systems. Those once hailed as champions of the faith were instead branded as criminals and oppressors. As technology grew in sophistication, so did society's tolerance of these changes. There arose a new type of innovation that belittled the supernatural and saw it as archaic and restrictive.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"The Disciples faced the brunt of that contempt and resentment. Over time, they came to represent oppression under old regimes. The masses seized their opportunity. By embracing an emerging industry rooted in rationalism and materialism, the populace forged their path. Slowly but surely, the faithful dwindled in number."

"That sucks," Aubrey remarked sympathetically, gazing down at the ground. "So... just because things got better for a bit, they forgot the hardships and went against the people who saved them? And now, anyone from back then gets automatically labeled a criminal... Sheesh. Tough life..."

"Indeed," Cedric concurred in his usual low baritone. "Rulers and scholars came to power—those who saw the rise of industrial technology and technomancy as the solution to humanity’s plight. They claimed that the gods were no longer necessary, and that human progress could replace divine intervention. And so, within fifty years of the Age of Dissolution, worship of the old gods was outlawed. Temples were razed, priests were executed or exiled, and the practice of magic itself became taboo outside of industrial applications or 'non-divine' approved sorcery."

Aubrey whistled low. "Damn. That’s a bit extreme."

"Inevitably," Cedric continued with an ironic shake of his head, "their names were lost to time. Gone from historical texts and buried away... As the generations rolled by, the tales of past saints, disciples, and champions slowly transformed into slander, then warnings, and then ultimately into myths."

"How do you remember all this? Haven't these happened a long, long, long, long, long, long-ass time ago?" Aubrey blurted out without thinking. "Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

Cedric chuckled lightly at that before sighing.

Aubrey made an apologetic face. She hadn't meant to interrupt his story.

"While not precisely photographic... I have a rather unique recollection of history due to my nature," Cedric admitted somewhat cryptically, folding his hands behind his back. "But, to summarize, the city formally renamed itself to Mordenstradt two centuries ago, bringing us to today."

"Well, damn, that was... uh, heavy," Aubrey replied, rubbing the back of her head. "You know how to give a lecture, alright. It wasn't boring or anything, though, so props to you. A lot happened back then, huh?"

He let out an amused grunt, the corner of his mouth lifting just a tad before his expression became stoic again. "It pleases me to hear it did not bore you. Nevertheless, I digress. We shall focus upon the tale of the Incantatrix."

"Oh yeah, back to the whole 'disciple' thing. Enlighten me, Ceddy. What's her deal?"

The gargoyle drummed his claws on the marble wall behind him thoughtfully.

"The Sovereign Incantatrix was the goddess of music, magic, and prophecy. Her followers believed that the universe itself was a great symphony, and that all living things were notes within it. Every soul, every action, every choice added to the melody. Her power lay not only in music but in the understanding of the spaces between—the silences, the dissonance, and the echoes that made up life's larger song. I believe you also felt an inkling of this truth during your own performances here."

Aubrey finger-gunned Cedric at his statement, acknowledging his point. "Gotcha. Then what? Keep going."

"The Incantatrix’s followers believed that through her, they could channel not just magic, but the very essence of creation. They sought to create music not only with their voices or instruments, but with their wills. Legends speak of them unleashing melodies so powerful they could calm raging storms, heal the gravely injured, or conjure forth objects from pure thought alone."

"And you’re saying... that's where the whole 'Disciples of the Incantatrix' thing comes in," Aubrey surmised, her brows rising as she made the connection.

"Just so," Cedric affirmed. "Her disciples were trained in the ways of music and magic, understanding that each note, each spell, was a part of the grand symphony of the universe. They believed that by aligning themselves with the Incantatrix's melodies, they could alter fate itself. This concept lies at the core of the Incantatrix's power: the idea that all existence is linked through an underlying harmony, a harmony that can be shaped and influenced by those who understand its nature."

"And this cathedral?"

"Yes, this building," Cedric indicated as his gaze swept around the huge interior of the space. "This place was built at the height of her influence. The seat of her power. You have seen the stained glass depictions of her? It holds significant history in this city's past."

Aubrey pointed behind him towards the apse area.

"Hell yeah I noticed those! At first, I thought she looked hot, in a dignified way. In fact, some of her stained glass images here kind of inspired some of the elements of my own stage persona..."

The gargoyle chuckled and gestured with his claw. "That wasn't what I intended to draw your attention to, but I'm glad they resonated with you on some level."

The stained glass images of the Incantatrix sat high up above them at the apex of the cathedral. One in particular, that of her composed expression adorned with silver filigree, wreathed in lilac flames, stared down at them in stony judgement. It always felt like those kaleidoscopic eyes followed Aubrey, no matter where she roamed within the cathedral. All-seeing, ever watchful.

It didn't bother her, however.

Instead, the opposite: A calming presence accompanied the still image of the Incantatrix whenever she was under her gaze. It was like a voice within her mind, gentle and soothing, that said, 'You are welcome here, my child.' Ever since she stumbled into this cathedral and took up residence here, that same, inaudible voice resonated in her heart.

"Okay, but how am I a disciple if I didn't even know about her until you brought it up? I mean, I didn't exactly sign up for any cosmic choir."

The gargoyle chuckled at her bemusement, his wings folding primly behind him. "The Incantatrix’s ways are not bound by mortal understanding. Her choice is not always known to those she favors. But the fact that you wield Hellion’s Cry, a relic forged by her hand, is proof enough. She chose you, and though I cannot speak to her intent, I trust her divine wisdom. Whether you accept it or not, her hand is upon you. The power you wield is not a coincidence. Of that, I am certain."

She twiddled her thumbs as she contemplated his words.

Truthfully, she didn't mind the idea of being her so-called 'disciple.' The whole goddess of magic and music? Sweet. It worked well with her theme. The powers to change fate, manipulate minds with the sheer strength of her own personality and charisma? Super extra sweet. Crazy ass voice that can be a weapon, a form of healing, and a myriad of other applications? Rad as hell, times ten.

Being tied to a random godly being in this fantasy world could've been worse. If anything, this Incantatrix lady seemed kind of cool, if the lore behind her wasn't all exaggeration.

But, Aubrey thought, better the devil you know...

Er... Goddess... In this case...

"Alright, fine," she muttered. "So I’m, what, like a high priestess or something now? Great. I’ll add that to the list of things I didn’t sign up for."

Cedric chuckled softly. "Perhaps not a priestess. But you are special, Aubrey. You hold power in your hands. What you decide to do with that power, how it changes you, and how you change the world... rests with you. All of life's details are harmonized as part of one great composition. Remember that, and let your actions reflect your deepest convictions."

"I’ll make an effort," she muttered dryly.

Truthfully, as long as she gets to exact her revenge on her killers, keep her bandmates safe, and live out her life with a bang—consequences be damned—then she would feel fulfilled. As a wandering spirit turned Unhallowed, what more could she ask for?