The Awakening Below

Clara gasped as she woke, her body cold and trembling.

The chamber around her breathed.

The walls, once solid stone, now pulsed like living flesh. Black veins slithered across the surface, writhing in slow, grotesque movements. The air was thick, humid—choked with the coppery scent of blood.

She tried to move.

Pain flared through her limbs.

She looked down.

Her wrists were embedded in the fleshy walls, bound by the same black veins she had seen infecting Thomas’s followers.

But now—

Now, she could feel them.

Something moved inside them, slithering beneath her skin, threading into her veins.

Her breath hitched.

She wasn’t just trapped.

She was being transformed.

The Prophet’s Mark

Thomas stood before the altar, staring at his hands.

Miracles.

That’s what they had called them.

That’s what he had called them.

But as he looked at the congregation—at their bodies writhing with black veins, their empty, unblinking eyes—he saw the truth.

He had not saved them.

He had cursed them.

Beside him, Elias watched in silent satisfaction as the possessed faithful knelt in worship.

“They are ready,” Elias murmured.

Thomas turned sharply. “Ready for what?”

Elias smiled.

“To become one with Mara.”

A sudden pulse of pain erupted in Thomas’s chest.

He gasped, clutching his ribs.

His fingers brushed the scar.

It burned.

And in that moment, he understood.

The Second Seal wasn’t hidden somewhere in the church.

It was inside him.

The Journal’s Prophecy

Clara gritted her teeth, fighting against the pain as she stretched toward the leather-bound journal lying on the damp floor.

Father Marcus’s journal.

Her fingers barely grazed the cover before the veins around her tightened, sending a fresh wave of pain through her body.

Her vision blurred.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps.

But she didn’t stop.

With a sharp yank, she tore free.

The veins ripped from her flesh.

Blood spattered onto the floor.

Her arms throbbed where the tendrils had latched onto her, but she forced herself to move, flipping through the pages with trembling fingers.

Her heart pounded as she reached the final entry—

The Second Seal is hidden in the Prophet’s flesh. His faith is the key. If he does not break first, we are lost.

Clara’s stomach twisted.

She knew what this meant.

She had to get to Thomas before the eclipse.

Before he realized that his final act of devotion would be his own undoing.

The Gathering Storm

On the eve of the eclipse, the church transformed.

The faithful gathered, kneeling in silent prayer. Their bodies twitched—unnatural, wrong.

The walls shifted, veins creeping across the stone like a living thing.

At the altar, Elias raised his arms, his voice ringing through the chamber.

“Tonight, the Unbound Prophet shall ascend!”

A chorus of whispers swept through the church.

And Thomas—

Thomas could feel Mara inside him now.

Her voice curled around his thoughts like smoke.

“You know what you must do.”

His fingers brushed the scar again, and this time, he felt it.

Something beating beneath his skin.

A second heart.

Not his own.

And it was waiting to be set free.

Clara’s Desperate Escape

Clara ran.

Blood dripped from her wounds, her breath ragged, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

She had clawed her way out of the chamber of flesh, past the pulsing walls, past the whispering shadows.

And now—

Now, she was back in the church.

She had to find Thomas.

Had to stop him.

Before it was too late.