“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

The sweet, feminine voice roused him from his stupor, eyes opening, blinking several times to clear the blur over his sight. It worked slightly, and only on the non-cursed side, but it allowed him to stare at his joined hands.

What had he been doing? Before losing consciousness, that is.

Right, praying.

Cardomos took a deep breath, maintaining the air on his lungs several seconds before exhaling, a slight, small tremble taking over his breath momentarily.

Correcting the position of his fingers, interlocked in front of his face, he closed his eyes back again, continuing with his prayers.

“Do you intend to keep going?” The woman spoke again, as Cardomos reopened his eyes. “I can give you a quiet, painless end, as if your sleep went forever.”

“For an Inquisitor, there’s never been an end more shameful than a peaceful one.” He didn’t bother to face her. Her face was covered in a veil, after all. Not that it mattered. Veil or not, Cardomos could no longer focus on the details.

If she were to show her face again, he would only see a blur.

“I am well aware of that. Yet, in those last moments… most of you grieve over what could've been.”

“That only means they wasted those last seconds on pointless retrospection, instead of continuing fighting.”

“It’s less than a second,” The woman corrected. “Only lasting as long as your regrets need it to last.”

“Then I hold no need for it.”

Cardomos gave the matter for finished, hearing the woman sigh, yet, instead of continuing with his prayers, he lifted his head, looking at the altar at the end of His temple, where His statue was.

And next to it, propped up against the handrails separating the altar from the rest of the temple, was a figure.

Cardomos’ eyebrow twitched, clearly bothered by the woman’s position, equal in standing to the statue. This temple wasn’t made in her name. His prayers weren’t for her.

Yet he didn’t voice his displeasure. It would be for naught, after all.

“She will be here soon.”

“True. With that…” She seemed to ponder about what to call Fate’s Corruption for a moment. “Reject’s help, she will find this place in no time.”

“Do you plan to remain here?”

“Of course. Being surrounded by friends in your last moments it’s a joy I won’t deny you.”

…

Velvet found Erin Cardomos’ location in no time. Not because it was close, but because the Corruption already knew where it was, and the fastest path to follow.

She still didn’t have a complete plan to deal with him. Hoping that he had dropped dead wouldn’t work, since the Corruption already confirmed his living status.

If things were to go awry, she would unchain Frenese. If they got awryer, she would call Lothrigern. That was as far as her foolproof plans went.

Cardomos' place (or what Velvet expected it to be his house, since it looked like another damn temple) was rather simple, in contrast to the place where he left Dianthus. What in that case was a colorful building, due to the windows and the imposing doors, was way less impressive in this one.

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The windows were smaller, the insides she could see, dark. There were no decorations or ornaments, just the barebones parts so that the building could function as one.

It wasn’t welcoming or appealing, yet, despite being so simply constructed, everything was being taken care of, and the house looked in a good state. The door was particularly well made, maybe the thing with the most effort behind.

A door against which Velvet knocked before pushing open slightly.

“Hello.” Cardomos totally knew she was there, so it wouldn’t hurt to show some politeness. But, after receiving several seconds of silence as answer, she opened the door a bit more, peeking inside.

This time, there weren’t rows of benches, just floor, empty, aside from the formation drawn over the floor. Velvet glazed at it for a second, not recognizing the symbols used, before looking up, towards the end.

One single chair, Cardomos was seated, facing an altar, separated from him by a wooden handrail, where a woman was resting against. Velvet’s eyes met hers, which, even when concealed behind a veil, stopped her in her tracks.

The woman was gorgeous, a green, long silk dress with a cut on the side, exposing her legs. That was the only piece of cloth she wore, besides the veil covering her face.

Yet that beauty remained as long as one took only a glance. As long as the memory was a short peek from the corner of the eye, nothing more.

Her skin was immaculate, perfect in all aspects, but, when doing a double take, what was almost divine started to become… marred.

Going down her shoulders, the skin progressively lost its color, adopting a greenish tone, the one of rotting flesh. And that was at the forearm. Going lower, the skin and flesh opened in rotten tatters, leaving only skinless and fleshless skeletal fingers at the hands.

Her legs were the same. From the perfect skin at the thighs, passing through the stages of decay, until only bone remained at the toes.

Her neck possessed the same underlying green tone, but, due to the veil, her face remained hidden.

It was the green of rot, of decay.

It was the green of death.

“Hello.” The woman said back, welcoming her with a wave of her fleshless fingers.

She moved with the elegance of a queen, where the shortest wave of hand caught all the attention, stopping trains of thought and conversations. Even the wooden handrails she was leaning against got temporarily promoted to throne, instead of diminishing her authority for a second.

And Velvet didn’t need to be told who it was, for gods didn’t need introductions aside from their presence. She just knew, like any living being would know, deep into what shaped her, that she was in the presence of the Goddess of Death.

And, even if that was the thing that caught her attention the most, it wasn’t the most shocking. Because, on the altar at the end, there was a statue, one that didn’t belong to any of the gods that ruled, or had ruled, over this world. Of that, she was absolutely sure.

Because there was no one more familiar with the being depicted than her. For she saw the real thing every night.

The statue felt amateurish, lacking the perfection that accompanied the true statues of gods, showing both the lack of skills behind the sculptor and the lack of divine inspiration. Yet, it was the details that made the intention work, and the statue lacked none of those.

It was the Chained Man.

“You recognize Him.” Cardomos said, not turning to look at her, and not as a question, but as a fact. Not that Velvet rushing to deny the truth would change anything. A dying Archmage was still an Archmage, and lying to his face would be useless.

“And you pray to him.” She answered, also as a fact.

It was the first time someone else other than her had proof of the Chained Man’s existence. And not only proof, but prayed to him like a god.

Yet all the questions she wanted to ask died in her throat. She simply remained silent, standing on the doorway, waiting for Cardomos to act first.

Cardomos slowly got up, respectfully bowing towards the statue before turning around towards her, walking down the empty aisle until he stood at the formation’s edge.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out now what the formation was for. For a devout close to death would only chase after one single thing.

To be even closer to their god.

“Everything is ready.” He said, as the symbols and sigils on the formation started activating, lighting up and twisting around themselves. “New Saintress of-” Cardomos said a name, one that Velvet was unable to process, as if her body refused to. “We will begin once you form the link.”

“Yes.” Velvet simply said, walking to position herself on the formation’s center.

This was what she wanted, yet, some part of her gave way to a strange emotion.

Disappointment? Disgust? Jealousy? She couldn’t exactly tell which one it was, but it filled her with a certain numbness towards the reveal. Yet she went along, because it was what she had wanted from the start.

Right?