As the bright-red sun began to set on the horizon, Lumière had returned to the monastery and immediately adjourned to his bedroom. Father Benedict was sitting alone in the hall, but Lumière had more pressing matters to attend to, and so he paid him no mind.

Lumière sat down at the edge of his bed, flipping open Poe’s Gnosis and immediately turning to the pages that had begun to emit a dim silver glow. As soon as he laid eyes on the page, it begun to resound with a faint heartbeat, and as it shivered and grew warm, thick black ink began to writhe on the surface of its pages, forming into lines of ancient Iles script. His eyes crossed line after line, and eventually, he had to reread the page just to capture the essence of the text.

— There’s an innate force that lies within you, an ‘aura’ that courses through channels like veins, in the way that blood would be carried throughout your body. Of course, maybe you’re a fool who knows nothing of human anatomy. Then again, perhaps you aren’t that human at all. This aura can be channeled throughout your body, done innately during the use of magic, gathering in the center of one’s palm. This acts along as a source of energy for your physical body. It is to say that if one were to drain themselves of that source of aura without giving it ample time to replenish, one’s body would simultaneously drain itself of energy and grow fatigued.

‘So I have to gauge my body’s fatigue and not overwork myself? Isn’t that already a given in any aspect? Is this really a surprising revelation?’ Lumière posed inwardly, letting out a quiet chuckle before turning back towards the text.

— Of course, what comes along with channeling through your palms is the choice. It is the penultimate choice of being a human- the decision to be a saint or a devil. The left and right hand paths signify the purpose of magic one would use. If one were to use magic of an inherent ‘evil’ standard, they would cast the ability or spell with their left hand. For inherently ‘good’ purposes, they would use their right. For you, who is detestable, your right hand would be left behind entirely, I’m sure. Of course, to any delusional fellow, it’s possible that they would use inherently ‘evil’ abilities with their right hand, under the presumption that their actions are morally just. As long as you can convince yourself of your intentions, it doesn’t matter too much. But if you’re unsure of yourself, or you are convinced that your actions are ‘evil’ or ‘good’, using the wrong hand to cast the spell with the wrong intentions will surely increase your inclinations to madness.

Lumière’s eyes filled with a sense of grand alarm, a shock to his heart that threatened to seize his sanity if he were to fail to regain his mental clarity. Countless thoughts raced past his mind, and he had to shroud himself in the darkness of his blankets as he tries to stabilise his churning mind.

‘I was always left-handed… I would alway perform my acts using my left hand… doesn’t that mean that inherently, in the process of lying… of using illusion to further myself, I was already being a villain? Was I ever really different from the cruelty of the world? Ms. Gluttony said I was destined to destroy the world like they were… was that really the truth?’

‘No… being evil, being good… I’ve already decided to do horrible things to fulfill my goals. This isn’t letting the world change me, this is me choosing to change myself. I just have to do what must be done, that is all. Using my left hand, or using my right, I can cast this world’s madness in flame and watch it turn to ash. I just need to be careful to avoid burning the people I care most about.’

Lumière suddenly let out an uncontrollable laugh, having to clutch at his sides to contain himself, his despairing state vanishing in an instant. The blanket fell away, and he was immediately bathed in the dim lamplight of his room.

‘I shot that merchant- Three of Hearts in his left hand. Doesn’t that mean that from this point on, he can only use magic for inherently ‘good’ purposes? Perhaps I am both a devil and a saint-maker.’ Lumière’s thoughts immediately took on a humourous tone, and his attention gradually shifted back towards the Gnosis, his mind refreshed.

As he flipped the page of the Gnosis, the black inky substance began to sprawl on its surface once more. Although, besides the familiar text, at the top of the page above a lengthy a paragraph, an inked-out sketch took shape. It was of a diamond-shaped crystalline object held up by a small metallic chain. Immediately familiar to Lumière, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small faded-green crystal held up by the silver band and chain.

— ‘Crystomancy’ revolves around the combination of pooled aura and specially-carved crystals to achieve grand effects that the common four domains of magic would normally fail to provide. As you would channel your aura to conjure a spell, you would do the same. In this case, instead of being expelled based on your intentions, the aura would automatically gather into the interior of the crystal, refracting in its surface alike to a prism before dispersing. For the sake of your detestable being, it wouldn’t matter too much which hand is used to gather energy within the crystal pendant. Although, it’s probably always best to use inherently ‘good’ intentions when channeling your aura into a pendant.

'How did it feel when I cast that spell- it was like a spark, so maybe I should call it that. When I cast 'spark', what did it feel like to conjure the flames in my hands?

Lumière had always unconsciously cast the spell, as if he had some sort of visual in his mind of how it would play out. It was partly because he had done the same sort of trick in his illusionist performances up until that point, but also because had spent so much time alone in his room fantasising about the use of real magic. After all of that, it felt entirely natural to him to summon the flames without thought.

'Like veins running through my body, sending aura coursing through it and ending up pooling in my palm?'

Lumière closed his eyes, holding the aventurine crystal in his hand. He let out a deep breath, and focused on the darkness that dwelled within his mind. Slowly, he imagined his body from an outside perspective. He imagined each skin, muscle and the skeletal layers that made up his thin, tall form. Slowly, he visualised bright-white hot veins circulating through his body, twisting and turning until they reached his palms. Immediately, his right palm that was holding the crystal began to feel warm. Rather than sparking alight and transforming into a flame, however, the crystal in his hand began to glow a bright-green colour, and his body felt enveloped in a faint and gentle warmth.

Instantly, Lumière felt as if he could sense the minute details of the room around him. He could tell the exact temperature of the air that touched against his skin. He could hear the exemplified sounds of the rain tapping against the stone outside, and of the bugs that skittered around within the walls. His eyes peered past the open window of his room, eyeing the darkness of the emerging night. Holding the aventurine infused with aura in his hand, the darkness seemed to seep away, and his vision was granted respite from the night, able to see the outside world clearly as if it were almost day.

'So this is what Three of Hearts meant by enhanced senses? This really is brilliant...' He posed, a smile curving up his lips as he thought. ‘Combined with my ‘blood tracking’ ability, isn’t this too good? How skilled would an enemy have to be to attack me without my notice? Granted, it uses up so much stamina…’

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Coupled with the fatigue of his day, using so much aura without refined control made it spill out of him erroneously. His body instantly felt weak, as if all his energy had been drained. He truly had no practice in such matters. Unlike conjuring a flame, which required a slight bit of mana to alight a spark, constantly pouring out a thin thread of aura took much greater control- too much for Lumière to handle in his current state. He slipped the aventurine crystal back into his pocket, raising the Gnosis into the air as he eyed it once more, his eyes growing sleepy.

-- Strange, unique powers can be awakened from listening to the murmurs of the Forever. However, this shouldn't be done under any circumstances for a detestable person like you. You, who is already inclined to become crazy and ravage the world cannot afford to delve into the part of reality that has grown farther than mad. After all, a heretic is near-destined to go insane. Still, you should beware those who seem as if they are a part of the churning grey mist that often blankets people and locations in a unrecognisable aura. They are the chosen of the scholars who disseminate information from within the 'Forever'.

'Those people are dangerous? People with inherently unique abilities? Is that like the man who attacked the monastery? He was able to control those shadowy hands alike to the club cards who fought in the House of Cards, but he was likely a heretic like I… did he gain this power from listening to those ‘murmurs’ then?'

Lumière let out an audible 'tsk'. If he wanted the best chance of remaining as sane as possible, he had to avoid the murmurs and ravings that would supposedly grant him intense power. If only he had chosen another domain of magic, then perhaps he would have been able to do so. Although, with or without some inherent special ability, it didn't change what he had to do.

-- Those who have fallen to greed, stealing more than fire from the gods, are capable of otherworldy feats. Using magical powers from four cursed domains - of hereticism, astrology, alchemy, and black magic, they can accomplish so much. Although, the cost of using black magic is the gradual loss of one's soul. An astrologer will discover the vast, infinite breadth of the universe and gradually lose their morality, as anyone as small as a human will seem insignificant in the face of the cosmos. An alchemist will delve into the horrors of modification, and of defying death, and slowly losing what makes one human. As has been said previously, the cost of being a heretic is your innate sanity. However, this is not the only cost one must pay for immense power. Upon death, there will be no peaceful afterlife awaiting you. You will be swept away by the universe, and your soul will rest eternally in 'The Forever'. You will feel a constant gnawing anxiety, and all those around you will appear as faceless entities under the grey sky. You will never talk with another, never see a human expression, or feel connection. All you will be able to do for eternity is suffer- forever.

-- The servants of a great Lord are sometimes inducted into their heavenly kingdom, and so avoid the punishment of the Forever. Too, do they receive the boon of their master. For us primordial sins who serve the great Lord Sinner, we have access to his bestowments. We are allowed to reside in his Kingdom in a state that is neither alive nor dead. It is peace from our fates, our destinies which harm all that we once loved and admired.

'So Poe really is a servant of Lord Sinner... then are we compatriots? Is that why I've been allowed to borrow his compendium of knowledge? He's a little too teasing for a comrade, however...' Lumière's brows furrowed slightly.

The pages that had begun to glow silver gradually began to dissipate in their bright hues. Turning to a non-glowing page brought no results, as the black ink would fail to churn on the paper. Having no more information to glean for the time being, Lumière tucked the book back into his coat pocket and closed his eyes, immediately falling into a deep slumber.

—

‘An old comrade? Why would I want someone like that to pose as a nun here? I was fine enough with what I had…’

Father Benedict knelt solemnly at the edge of Elise Alinde’s room. In death, she could no longer be a Sister, a servant of the Lady of Thorns, and so there was no reason to keep her things in her bedroom. He tried to glance at everything with a calm, unmoving attitude, but sitting in her room, he hadn’t yet worked up the courage to move a single thing. He often chided in his mind at the way Lumière would hold up a mask to protect himself, but he too hid behind one. Instead of Lumière’s normal reason for playing a persona, he felt that he was doing it simply because it suited him. Ainsworth Benedict, at his core, wasn’t really a person one would want to anoint to Priesthood. A playboy was not suited for such a role. Only Father Benedict, the calm, pious, and wise young man could be given all that he had dreamed of. While Lumière was a liar to protect his heart, Ainsworth was a liar for the sake of greed.

‘You were a much better servant than I, even though you were always conflicted with your role and your wishes…’ Father Benedict thought ruefully. ‘You were the only person I would have ever wished could serve beside me. It made me feel so much better, to know that all of my sins could be absolved by working alongside you. More than that, you were a friend, a true comrade. So why does it feel so painful to wish you a goodbye? Why can’t I wear a mask when confronting your absence?’

Father Benedict placed a hand against his left eye, and as he stared up at the stars out of Elise’s window, his right eye began to glow a pale blue colour. Suddenly, he could make out all the collections of the stars in the sky- constellations, and clusters of stars immediately seeped into his mind in droves of information, and it felt as if he had grasped the entire expanse of what he had been looking at.

‘What’s the point of this power gifted to me by the Goddess, if I cannot protect her most loyal servants? My most cherished…’

Father Benedict’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, recalling Elise’s previous conversation with him. She spoke of how ‘the moment of her death being the moment she had forsaken the Goddess’. Unnerved in the way she had said it, Father Benedict had used his necklace as a pendulum to perform a divination over the matter. After asking a question to the stars, they would then answer promptly. The pendulum swinging to the left or the right meant a positive answer, while swinging towards or far away from the user meant a negative answer. Usually, stillness meant that either the question couldn’t be answered, or it was inconclusive. This meant that ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions were the only ones that could be asked, and the stars weren’t beholden to playing a game of twenty questions, so being sure of the single question asked was important, as asking more than a few would increase his inclination to losing his morality.

While ‘death’ or the ‘cause’ of death couldn’t be directly divined by the stars, the inclination to encountering danger in the near future could be directly divined. However, this proved inconclusive when Ainsworth had tried to divine the matter. Therefore, he assumed wrongfully that nothing would happen to her for the time being, and so he felt immense guilt for not pursuing his gut feeling more. It was said that humans had an innate sense for their oncoming demise, and so it had irked him when she had spoken so outwardly. Moreover, at his level, matters involving the four known domains of magic couldn’t be divined easily. This confirmed, despite the state of the corpses at the scene, beyond all doubts that the attack had involved sorcery, likely of the ‘heresy’ domain.

Recently, the sect serving the evil Goddess- the ‘Lace of Blood’ had begun to ramp up the intensity and number of their attacks and sacrificial offerings. This usually involved the murder of innocents, and so the church of the Crown of Thorns, and the Church of the Architect had devised several teams of sorcery users to combat their involvement in the Forger Empire. So, soon a nun involved in one of those teams, like Father Benedict had been would be sent to their monastery on Cobbler’s Street. This was why Elise’s room had to be cleared out.

‘If I can use sorcery, why can’t I just get up and confront this?’

Father Benedict immediately stood up and walked over to her nightstand, opening it and glancing at the contents. On top of freshly folded nightwear, there was a gleaming silver object. A silver-grey iron flower rested atop, cold as if it hadn’t been worn in a long time, yet chipped and scratched if it had also been worn too many times to count. A faint, saddened smile curved up Ainsworth’s lips, and he picked up the flower before placing it carefully in his pocket.

‘I’ll return this to him later…’