[[Day 5 of Month -5 :: The Grand Cathedral, Gless ]]<br/><br/>“Councilor! Councilor Livius!”  Cora emerged from the nook she’d been<span style="text-decoration: line-through;">hiding</span>waiting in at the sight of her quarry.  The old man was striding away from her, seemingly deaf to her calls.  Normally, such a dismissal would have discouraged her, and even now she could feel the flutters of doubt, but she’d been gathering her courage for the past half hour.  Gripping her papers tighter, the brown-haired cleric chased after the Councilor with determined strides.  “Councilor Livius!”<br/><br/>Though only 5’3”, Cora had long learned how to project her aura.  With her arms akimbo, she made a menacing sight with her frown and it halted the muttering Councilor in his tracks.  Grey eyes gave her a quick scan: “Yes, Cleric..?”  An impatient flick of the hand, ruffling the papers held there, made clear the man was eager to keep moving.<br/><br/>“I need to speak with you.”  Cora demanded, only realizing after the words had left her mouth how weak they sounded.<br/><br/>“Make an appointment.”  Livius grouched back, trying to sidestep her to continue his way to his office.<br/>A quick step to the left prevented his escape and the brunette continued her demand.  “No. I need to speak to you<span style="text-decoration: underline">now</span>.”  She demanded, casting a glance around at the hall.  Though it wasn’t particularly crowded, their altercation was getting more attention than she was comfortable with.  Her news wasn’t one that could be spilled so easily in the open.  She mustered her courage, imagined the Councilor as one of her recalcitrant patients, and grabbed the old man by the arm.  Her delicate fingers clamped around his forearm like bands of steel.  “That room over there should be fine.”  She nodded at the closest door and then dragged the resisting Livius with her.<br/><br/>Cora released him when they were safe inside the supply closet, snatched his papers out of his hands, and replaced them with her own report.  “Read that.”  She commanded, watching with a gimlet eye as the Councilor huffed and skimmed the report.  At the end, the Councilor looked up and summarized in a deadpan, “We’re running low on medical supplies.”  A roll of his eyes conveyed his annoyance, “Yes, I’m<span style="font-weight: bold">aware</span>we’re running low on medical supplies, just like every—“<br/><br/>“No.”  Cora interrupted as she resisted rolling her own eyes.  “Well, yes, we are running low on medical supplies but more importantly, we are running low on them too fast.  Also, all general medical supplies are running low: painkillers, headache relievers, decongestions, anti-nausea.  Those aren’t the type of supplies you would expect to be used after a major conflict like the battle on Lindela.”  Finally, the man was actually<span style="font-weight: bold">listening</span>to her!  Grey eyes nearly glowed with concentration as he tried to decipher the conclusion to her words.  “Those supplies are the ones used for sickness.  I’ve checked alternative remedies as well—honey, lemon, ginger—page 3—they’re all running low as well.  In addition, the rate of cleric visits has increased.  Clinics are reporting above capacity appointment requests.”<br/><br/>The fierceness in her tone softened as she uttered the terrifying conclusion she’d come to late last night.  “I think we’re seeing the beginnings of an epidemic.”<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>“Last time we targeted these points.”<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Hmm, but I think these seals would be weaker.  In terms of the overall seal structure, those two should be anchors which would make them harder to break.”</span><br/><br/>“Isn’t breaking anchors the best way to dismantle a seal?”<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “Generally, yes, that would be the best practice.”</span>A grimace crossed the Seraph’s face as she continued,<span style="color: silver"> “But technically we just want to disconnect the portal and we’ll destroy the arch physically as well.  It will require less effort this way with the same result.  And given the circumstances…”</span>Lethe trailed off, leaving unspoken the uncertainties that hung in the air.  When would Eve attack again? How many portals were in Lindela?  There was good reason to preserve their strength where possible.<br/><br/>A look crossed YunQiao’s face before the man nodded his understanding.  “So then these seals then.  What order do you think would be best?”<br/><br/>Although part of the circle, Romauld was silent as the conversation delved into topics he had no expertise in.  Normally he would be eager to learn but exhaustion and relief dominated his mind: exhaustion from the long days and nights spent poring over maps and reports trying to find these portals and relief at having finally succeeded.  He was fully aware of how lucky they had been in finding this one portal.  Leon hadn’t sensed anything and only a gut feeling had drawn the blonde to this abandoned warehouse.  The Palaugrimian drew a weary hand over his face; he wouldn’t feel better until they had a more reliable method to identifying these portals.  But for now, he’d take a small comfort in knowing at least one of the portals was being dismantled.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Alright then. So first this seal, then this one, then this..”</span>The sudden rise in volume, subtle though it was, reeled his attention back to the present.  YunQiao was marking down the order they would use to dismantle the seal.  Romauld quickly memorized the order shown and kept his thoughts from wandering for the rest of the discussion.  They had reached the end, the final sequence determined, when the Palaugrimian finally spoke up:  "I would like to be the one to destroy the portal, if you don't mind overseeing and ensuring I do it right?"<br/><br/>Surprised blue eyes assessed him before an approving smile curved her lips.  "Of course." Lethe agreed, stepping out of the way to the edge of the room.  YunQiao looked at the two of them in amusement as he too moved aside.<br/><br/>With an inhale, Romauld removed his audience from his consideration. They didn't matter, only his goal did.  He stared coolly at the offending arch as he gathered his holy magic, concentrating it in the tip of his bo staff.  First that seal, then that one, then those three. He reviewed the order one last time and then settled into an offensive stance.  Accuracy was most important, but speed was as well.  Who knew how long a partially deconstructed portal could last without something terrible happening.  Once the former Commander was certain he was ready, he struck.<br/><br/>His first jab caved the seal in as did his second. His third he softened so as to not expend as much holy magic.  The portal flickered ominously and he struck at the fourth seal.  The seal wavered but from the wavering, never mind the indistinct sound of warning, Romauld knew it wasn't broken.  There was a sudden spike of Sin and Romauld slammed his glowing staff into the fourth seal again, followed by an equally overpowered hit to the last seal.  The portal wavered once more and then the concentration of Sin broke, dissipating with a malicious hiss.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Repent.”</span>A female voice intoned as holy magic filled the room to negate the Sin.  When the light ebbed, there was no more trace of the taint.<br/><br/>Romauld looked in charging at the now inactive stone arch.  There was a round hole where his staff had punctured through and one area, where the fourth seal had been, was crumbled completely, unsteadily supporting the rest of the edifice.<br/><br/>"Good job." Lethe congratulated with a nod at him. "It looks like the portal has been deactivated. I'll take my leave then.  Again," and now her focus widened to all four men in the basement, "good job all of you. Thank you for your hard work. May the Divine Light guide you to success."  With a respectful bow to all of them, the Seraph left the room.<br/><br/>Romauld sighed the moment she was gone, turning to look in charging at the mess he had made.  Sure, it was deactivated now, but certainly not in the most elegant, or efficient, of manners.  He had been commander of Rasova for a long time; it was odd to feel chastised like a trainee once more, even though he knew the Seraph had meant no criticism. He memorized the messy stone arch, memorized his discomfort, and then pushed the two aside.  He would save them for later to motivate himself.  For now, he had a job to finish.<br/><br/>"YunQiao, can you check again the portal has been deactivated? Leon, I'm guessing the leftover magic is making it hard to sense, but I would like you to monitor this room for the next 24 hours, just in case.  Omi, thank you for helping find this. If you can help with monitoring?"<br/><br/>Surprised purple eyes blinked at him as the scribe nodded.  YunQiao stepped forward to evaluate the arch as ordered and Leon sat down, no doubt to rest and center himself.  Romauld moved towards the exit, gesturing for Omi to follow him as he explained, "If you can..."<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>"I'm back!" Valiar announced happily as he slammed the door open, arms spread out in anticipation of his welcome home hug.  Work was understandably busy given the recent attacks and he relished every chance to return home and see his girls.  After a moment of posing, his cheer waned and he stood up with an unsettled frown. He could hear no patter of feet that would suggest Annabelle was on her way to greet him.  In fact, serious black eyes swept the living room, the room was oddly cool and he couldn't smell dinner on the stove.  A glance at the clock confirmed it was half past six; maybe Marielle was still out volunteering?<br/><br/>The cleric let the day swing shut behind him as he took his customary seat and started stripping off his armor.  He was replacing his boots when he realized his wife's shoes were also present on the rack.  It was possible she'd worn another pair, but it was unlikely.<br/><br/>His frown returned as Valiar stowed the rest of his armor away.  He was halfway up the stairs when he caught sight of his wife.  Immediately, some of his tension eased. Marielle was still safe.<br/><br/>"Hey," he called softly, catching his wife's attention. The look of relief on her face as she caught sight of him was troubling, but at least there were no tears. It couldn't be that bad.  He drew her into a hug and the two stood there quietly.<br/><br/>"Her fever's back." Marielle muttered into his shirt. He patted her head comfortingly.  "I've already given her the anti-fever tonic, twice, but her temperature is staying high. She keeps complaining she aches and she can't keep any food down." He could feel her arms clench around him and he returned the gesture, trying to give his wife the comfort she was seeking.<br/><br/>"How long?"<br/><br/>"Two days now." Exhaustion shaded Marielle's voice, muffled though it was.  Valiar frowned.  He could try healing their daughter with holy magic again, but he'd just healed her a month ago. It wasn't good to constantly boost a child's health with holy magic as it tended to weaken the immune system in the long run.<br/><br/>"I'll stay with her tonight. You get some rest." He offered despite his own exhaustion.  His magic reserves were running low and tomorrow would be another busy day of healing the wounded, but he knew he'd feel worse if he left his wife alone with their sick daughter and no rest.  Before Marielle could reply, her stomach answered for her with a weak gurgle of hunger.  "I'll get us some dinner and then you go rest," he amended his offer, drawing a weak laugh from his wife.<br/><br/>"Alright." She agreed as she drew away, wiping at her eyes.<br/><br/>Valiar squeezed her hand before she could withdraw completely. "It'll be okay." He reassured with a comforting smile.<br/><br/>Marielle tried to match his smile though a tired yawn broke it.  He was at the base of the stairs when she remembered.  "Wait! Valiar!"  The sudden alarm had him turning around and this time, the worry was stark on her face. "Annabelle isn't the only one sick. Half the other children and most of the elderly were as well.."<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>Blue eyes surveyed the familiar tombstone contemplatively, tracing the familiar words.  Eiji Akiyama.  Lethe opened her mouth, paused, and then closed it.  She glanced around furtively but remained silent despite her apparent solitude.  Idly, her hands fiddled with the flowers she was holding.  There had been no time to place a flower by each grave as was her custom.  She hadn’t even had time to don her normal disguise beyond a hooded cloak; thankfully, the groundskeeper had said nothing at her appearance.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">There’s a another stage of the Rite of Ascension!</span><br/><br/>The words longed to spring past her lips.  Her emotions-disbelief, worry, hope-strained to burst free.  She wanted the comfort of a listening ear, even a dead one, to confide her swirling thoughts to.  But no. She couldn’t.  The information Gil had shared with her earlier today was not meant to be spread.  It had been the Pure’s closely guarded secret and it would remain so, even if three more now knew it and its contents.  Lethe looked down at the faded blossoms she was holding; flowers were in short supply right now given the recent attacks and she’d salvaged her motley bouquet two steps from the dumpster they had been headed for.  One finger pushed a drooping petal back into place before she knelt and placed the collection on the ground.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon, Eiji,”</span>She murmured, caressing the tombstone affectionately.<span style="color: silver">“Things are getting busier and busier, but I hope I can return soon.”</span>Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against the cool granite and then stood back up.  Once more, she felt the near overwhelming urge to confess her worries.  She balanced on the precipice before firmly stepping back.  A final sorrowful look and the Seraph walked down the path out the graveyard.<br/><br/>Twenty minutes later found her outside her apartment.  She hovered at the doorway, feeling the call of duty beckoning her back towards the Grand Cathedral, before she finally untied her cloak.  With its removal she shed the mantle of her Knighthood, of her Seraphdom.  Lethe walked into the apartment.  Restless, she roamed the two rooms she called her own, settling first at the dining table then her bed then her couch.  None of them quite offered what she wanted—whatever that was—and she hesitated in the middle of her living room, still not certain what she was searching for.  Her feet wandered to the kitchen and she started pulling out rarely used cooking instruments, more for the need to do something than hunger.  She was rinsing off the cutting board when she stopped.  Gently setting the board down, she peered curiously at her hands and the clear liquid running over them.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“First, you must cleanse yourself.  Body, mind, and soul—all must be pristine for the Divine Light to enter.”</span><br/><br/>It had been the first step—really, just the baseline—to the Rite of Ascension.  How could a dirty vessel even think of containing the Divine Light?  She rubbed at her hands, remembering the sick ball of dread that had settled in her stomach the first time she’d heard Councilor Cornelius’s instructions.  She who was so tainted—and she dared to attempt to become a Seraph?  Yet… somehow… Lifting a dripping hand to eye level, Lethe marveled at the pale white skin.  How far had Sin hidden in her, how deeply had it intertwined itself with her flesh, that even the Divine Light had been fooled into accepting her despite—<br/><br/>Her fingers clenched into a fist at the memory of white eyes and grasping claws.  After a moment of unease, she reached for the soap and furiously scrubbed at her hands, another futile attempt at cleansing.  Now more unsettled, the white-haired woman abandoned the sink and instead retreated to her bay window.  A cocoon of blankets offered meagre comfort and she drifted into the land of the sleeping.<br/><br/>The sound of tolling bells woke her and she peered blearily out the window.  The sky was a burning orange and blurry white figures streamed into the Church she lived by.  Sunset then?  Groggy from her nap, Lethe nevertheless managed to untangle from her swaddling and sink to her knees in time to join the prayers below.  She stayed knelt on the ground even as the volume in the Church below her rose once more, this time as the supplicants left to resume their previous tasks.<br/><br/>A third rite of Ascension.<br/><br/>The words had her sinking further till she was prone on the ground, back down and eyes staring listlessly at the ceiling above her.  Her unintentional break had given her the distance needed to think objectively about what was coming next.<br/><br/>A third rite of Ascension.  She and Gil had to undergo a third trial.  One hand rubbed tiredly at her face as she remembered the little information her fellow Seraph had been able to provide. Cleanse thyself. Travel to some sacred location.  And then—who knew. Undergo an unknown test.  The prize? The power, perhaps, to defeat Sin.  And if they should fail?  A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips.  What was death to her? When she’d already buried herself so long ago?  Her head lolled to the side as her maudlin thoughts moved past the immediate consequence.  Of greater concern was that if she failed, only Guilford would be left to lead the Pristine Knights.  Certainly they had a few potentials tapped—Romauld, her Adair, Joaquim, Lance, and Alona—but none of them had passed<span style="font-style: italic">their</span>rites yet: the first two rites that prove their worthiness to lead the Pristine Knights.  Until those four were ready to ascend to Seraphs, the Immaculate only had two leaders.  Could she deny them one of those leaders if she was to fail the third rite?  She’d somehow passed the first two, but…<span style="font-style: italic">cleanse thy body; cleanse thy soul</span>.  Would the Divine Light turn a blind eye to the Sin within her one more time?  And yet, could she afford not to attempt the third rite?<br/><br/><blockquote class="uncited"><div><span style="font-style: italic">Trembling hands pushed against the ground as the rookie Knight tried to push herself upright once more.<br/><br/>“Not.. not even a scratch..” Daria whispered beside her in aghast disbelief.  Coal black eyes stared at the healing gash they had scored along the God of Sin’s flank.  Twilight dance: it was one of Squad Seven’s strongest combination attacks.  With half the squad missing, of course it would be weaker, but that combination had destroyed a nest of Pure Sinners at once.  Against the God of Sin--nothing more than a papercut.  Less, really, for the wound had already healed.<br/><br/>Lethe forced down her own horror even as she also drew her own conclusions.  Yes, it was the God of Sin. Yes, they were lacking Abel and Nike.  But for it to have caused so little damage…  A sudden influx of holy magic drew Squad Seven’s attention.  Estella, for once with a clear gaze, stood glaring at the God of Sin looming nearly a mile away.  “Wind that sweeps over the plains of eternity, carry my words to the other side, I call upon the stars that shine brightly through the everlasting void, I call..” The red-haired mage chanted as a magic array appeared around her.  Despite the overwhelming odds, the dreamer of Squad Abel had clearly not given up.<br/><br/>Catching Daria’s eye, Lethe felt herself nodding as she too drew holy magic around her.  Her squadmate returned her nod and hefted her spear.  The last attack might have failed.  They might not do any damage.  They might die.  But they were fighting to end the scourge of Sin.  For that hope, for that goal, they would throw everything they had at it.  They were Pristine Knights and this was their final battle.  One by one they might fall, but ultimately the Divine Light would pierce through the darkness.  They would end the curse that was Sin.</span></div></blockquote><br/>Even as she inhaled the cool air of her bedroom (of clean, blessed Gless!), Lethe could remember the choking miasma of Sin, despair, and death.  She could still remember the sensation of pushing against corpses—brothers and foes—to stagger to her feet to fling herself once more at the God of Sin.  She could still remember it all.  Even a decade later, the memory was burned into her memory.  She would probably never forget it: their desperate battle to defeat Sin.<br/><br/>And still, it had failed.  The God of Sin was back.<br/><br/>A frown creased her brow and her lips at the thought before giving way to resignation.<span style="font-style: italic">Divine Light, please grant me your mercy once more.  Grant me the strength to pass your third rite so finally we may end the plague that is Sin.</span><br/><br/>And after that... only the Divine Light knew.