The steady and rhythmic sound of cold steel boots echoed across the beautiful stone hallway. The muffled flutter of religious pendants rubbing against noble cloth, the clinking of golden and complex earrings would have filled a normal person with reverence, and safety - yet the sound felt like it was trying to worm its way into Serens mind.

Being led through the icy halls of the Holy Church had always been unpleasant, almost feeling like its discomfort was by design. Seren could never prove it, but he believed that they were meant to make one feel inferior - to break their spirit before they ever reached the Bishops chambers.

Long winding hallways built from chiseled brick, away from the warmth of the sun and deep underground where even sound felt claustrophobic. It was cold. Unnaturally so - even with the magically-lit sconces on either side, their warmth felt too distant.

The two men on either side of Seren didn't help either, armed to the teeth with the best of what the Holy Church could provide only deepened the unease in his heart. He had been called on many times, and not always to his merit, but never was he escorted by such a powerful entourage.

Granted, Seren was in no real danger from these men, but the poison lay in the implication.

This matter was of utmost importance - and he knew exactly why he was being summoned, alone.

The two forward Holy Guards broke off from the group and signaled to stop to the rest. They approached an opulent oak door, garnished with gems and intricate designs of holy symbols. Images of Angels playing sacred harps, bathed in the light of the eight pointed circle.

It was the symbol of the Church, representing the Eight Descents - a symbol of hope, of safety and of the power held by the Church.

Though Seren had been in the presence of the symbol throughout his life, his opinions had changed dramatically as he matured. When young, Seren was filled with joy and reverence for the symbol. Brought under the caring wing of the pious orphanage caretakers, nurtured by their deep wisdom, Seren felt like had once found a place to call home.

Yet, the more he learned of the Churches inner-workings, the more disgusting it felt to be associated with them.

Now, that Seren was an adult, he could finally see the true colours of the Church - a festering black heart rest in its holy shell. Corruption, malice and a deep disregard for the lives of those deemed useless, they were merely aspects of the reality hidden from the general population.

Seren couldn't have known that the Church discarded those same orphaned children if they didn't meet their "requirements", that he was cared for solely because they deemed him worthy of their time.

Seren couldn't have known that the reason the children disappeared, was because they were sold.

The large oak door opened smoothly with a click of the locking mechanism, turning gracefully and soundlessly, muffled by magic. Seren quickly contained his boiling anger and returned to the very picture of noble apathy.

With a quick hand gesture from the guards in front, Seren was allowed to enter the Bishops quarters. Normally a very prestigious honour, but Seren couldn't help but wish to spit on the ground he tread upon.

An old man wearing a kind facade sat behind a table of stunning beauty. Rare and expensive Obsidian Wood, metal seams made of gold and silver, glimmering jewels of both mundane and magic quality embedded deeply into the onyx wooden knots. It was worth more than what hundreds of families would make in a year.

'Disgusting pig.' Seren thought, barely able to contain his vitriol even in his own mind.

"Ah, Seren my boy, it is good to see you! Please, come, sit!" said the Bishop, the light from the nearby magical scones seemed to be drawn nearer to him with every word spoken.

Some say that it was a sign that the Bishop was truly blessed by the Eight, others say that it was his overwhelming connection to Fate and the Arcane that created these unconscious fluctuations.

Seren thought that it was nothing more than a show, put on to fool those that couldn't see through his vile nature.

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"Thank you, Bishop." said Seren, taking a seat on a luxuriously comfortable cushioned chair.

"Oh please Seren, don't use such formality with me. I thought we had already been over this." said the Bishop.

"Sorry, Dominic. I am forgetful these days, plenty of distractions and errant matters to attend to." said Seren, bowing his head slightly.

"Yes, yes I've heard. Despite how I look, I am pretty knowledgeable of the current ongoings." Dominic laughed.

"But seriously, it must be a lot of pressure to be sent out into the Third Descents next level. The King must be out of his mind to send you lot down." Dominic continued, crossing his arms and sitting back into his chair.

"The King is doing what he thinks is best, and we do need the materials from the lower stages. The Sand Elemental has been becoming increasingly violent, and the Great Barrier will not hold up against its attacks for longer than a month at this rate." said Seren, taking a look around the room, but never at Dominic, the Bishop.

Dominic let out a long sigh but didn't say anything, allowing the room to fall into a contemplative silence. Seren was happy to not hear the fool continue, but he knew that the Bishop wouldn't stop here.

"Yes, I've heard and seen the damage it's wrought on one of the fortified entrances and it's surroundings. Poor folks, they had families - but at least the Eight will take care of them and their souls." Dominic said with palpable sadness.

"By the Grace of The Eight, their journeys are over." said Seren, reciting the Holy mantra.

"By the Grace of The Eight, their journeys are surely over." said Dominic, while using his dominant hand to form the eight-point symbol in a quiet and small gesture.

There was a moment of silence held by the two, out of the respect of the fallen, and Seren took a quick look around the room. Walls lined with expensive bookshelves, filled with Tomes and religious artifacts, a chandelier encrusted with tacky gems and a most egregious carpet.

"Dominic, as much as I enjoy your company, but I am certain you didn't request my presence to talk about trifling matters for the Church such as these." said Seren, returning his attention back to the Bishop.

"I see you've kept your smarts about you, I'm happy to see you turn into such a fine gentleman." said Dominic.

"Yes, I've called you in under formal means, but my request-" Dominic continued, interrupting himself with a quick hand signal.

Seren could feel the air in the room change, the Mana quickly surged and a barrier was formed with a translucent flash of faint blue light. The jewels on the table acted as a power source for the powerful spell, letting the Bishop, Dominic, cast it without having to deplete his own Mana Pool. An anti-Fate spell, to stop any curious eyes or ears from peeking in on their private conversation.

"-is anything but formal." continued Dominic.

"I've caught wind of a certain group, The... what was their name?"

The hair on Serens neck stood up, and he could feel his heart rate shoot up at the obvious provocation.

"The Cult of Worms, that's right. Now, I didn't get to find out much, but our Scryers noticed an unusual fluctuation in Mana - Mana that didn't belong to this world - and brought it to my attention." said Dominic, the fake smile still plastered on his face.

Seren leaned in and, using the wealth of experience he had in lying and fooling these officials, put on his best confused expression.

"The Cult of Worms? Who are they?" said Seren with genuine curiosity. Sure he needed to act, but it was true he wanted to know what the Church had found.

"I see, even with your great connections within the Kings court you do not know. Let me explain then." said Dominic.

Dominic pulled out a small golden device, the size of half of his palm, with a gem embedded in the middle. After filling it with Mana, the gem projected out a misty image of the entrance of the Den of Worms. The workers that were employed under Laynar were laying in pools of blood, at least what was left of them. Mangled corpses, burned flesh and the signs of a one-sided slaughter were everywhere.

Seren didn't allow his emotions to show on his face, instead he swallowed the explosive fury and spoke in a neutral tone, "What am I, exactly, looking at?"

"This is the entrance to their filthy hovel. We found workers digging out some sort of ritual site and sent in our forward scouts to investigate the area. At first, we didn't interfere with the mundane workers, but when we came across their unholy relics..." Dominic trailed off into a furious silence.

"We have yet to explore everything within that winding cesspool, but we were able to capture one of their members." said Dominic, wistfully gazing at the image of slaughter projected before him.

"I wish it were me that would have been in charge of getting the information out of that vapid woman. I'm certain I would have gotten all of their members names if I had my way with her." said Dominic, a murderous smile slipped past his near perfect facade before being quickly corrected.

Seren stood up with great force, sending the chair skidding back a few inches. The sudden mention of a member of the Cult of Worms being tortured, images of Brisha being tortured, entered Serens mind and his control wavered.

Confronted by the surprised face of the Bishop, Seren quickly recovered, "Dominic, when you say unholy, do you mean an affront to the Eight? If so, we must hurry and destroy those heretics."

Seren was well versed in the art of lies, so the recovery was quick and seamless - it was still supremely difficult to remain calm and collected in the face of someone so hated, though.

"Ah, my boy." said Dominic, the smile of a kind old man returned to the Bishops face.

"I had hoped you would say that."