Cardinal Tyrannus Holric was a man of order, an anchor in the storm, forged in the crucibles of dogma and doctrine, his resolve etched in gold and blood. For decades, he had led the faithful with unwavering zeal, a living testament to the divine order of Holy Verrenate. He had marched beneath sacred standards, cleansed heresies with fire and sword, and stood unflinching where others faltered. But now, that world, the one he knew, the one he trusted was coming apart like brittle scripture under flame.
The distant shimmer caught his eye first. Those faint divine shields, cast far at north, glimmered briefly in the moonlight. Elegant, disciplined, and unmistakable. He had seen this before, cast by war priests to bless and protect. But these were not his. These were not allies.
A cold twist formed in his gut.
In the span of a breath, they lit the darkness like cursed lanterns.
And then, the sky tore open.
