The chapel was colder than I remembered. The old stone walls held the night air like grief; damp, heavy, and quietly unforgiving. My boots echoed on the marble floor as I followed the Elder through the corridor, passing locked rooms and dormant altars, surrounded by air that smelled like ash, candle wax, and something ancient buried deep.
I didn’t ask questions or speak. I followed because some part of me had known for days that something like this was coming, that the weight behind every glance from Simon, Liora, and Richard had been leading me here.
The ledger was kept behind the inner gate, stored in a reinforced cabinet beneath the floorboards in the eastern chamber. It was the same room we once used for overflow relics during the post-war relief effort.
The Elder, Marion, knelt wit
