Chapter 81 - - 81 - Wine and Whispers

Chapter 81: Chapter - 81 - Wine and Whispers

"It’s been a while, Lord Lucien," the High Priestess said, her voice carrying the warmth of a long-awaited reunion.

"Isalyn," Lucien replied, the name rolling off his tongue like a distant memory made tangible.

He held her gaze, those familiar eyes that had once witnessed death and rebirth alike. "Yeah," he murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "It’s been a while."

Isalyn straightened, the weight of her ceremonial robes settling around her shoulders. She turned to the cluster of priestesses flanking her, her voice shifting to command with practiced ease. "Wait outside. I wish to converse with Lord Lucien alone."

One of the younger priestesses stepped forward, her brow furrowed with concern. "But High Priestess, it is not safe to be alone with anyone, especially—"

"Enough." Isalyn’s voice cut through the protest like a blade through silk. "I know Lord Lucien far better than you ever could. We were acquaintances long before your time, and do not forget—he stands at the peak of the Spirit Forge realm. What could any of you possibly do against him?" Her eyes narrowed, the weight of her authority pressing down. "It would be disrespectful to even attempt it. We have fought alongside each other, bled together. Now leave."

The priestesses filed out, their footsteps retreating down the marble corridor.

"Lucien, I’ll wait outside," Celbeth said softly, her hand brushing against his arm. Her eyes spoke volumes—she understood the gravity of this meeting, the need for secrecy and trust. She positioned herself at the door like a silent sentinel, her presence a shield against any intrusion.

The moment the door clicked shut, Isalyn’s composure shattered. She dropped to her knees, her ceremonial robes pooling around her like a waterfall of white silk, her forehead nearly touching the cold stone floor.

"My Lord," she breathed, her voice trembling with reverence. "Forgive me. You had to wait so long for me."

Lucien moved swiftly, his hand finding her shoulder. "Don’t worry," he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "I understand. As High Priestess, your position demands your time. You have nothing to apologize for."

She remained bowed, refusing to rise. "I cannot help myself, Lord Lucien. You saved me—"

"And I’ve told you before," he interrupted, his fingers curling around her arm to guide her upright. "You don’t have to call me lord."

Isalyn rose, but her eyes still held that fervent devotion. Even after all these months, even after rising to become one of the twelve most powerful women in the human realm, she still saw him as he truly was—her god.

"Let’s sit," Lucien said, gesturing toward a nearby table where an ornate decanter of wine glowed like liquid ruby in the candlelight. "I brought something exceptional. We can talk while we drink."

Isalyn settled across from him, her fingers wrapping around the crystal goblet he offered. The wine was ancient, the kind that carried centuries of history in every drop. She took a sip, letting it warm her from within.

"So," Lucien began, leaning back in his chair, "what have you been up to these days? I never imagined you would become a High Priestess. Though now that I see you in those robes, I suppose it suits you."

A soft laugh escaped her lips. "After the Ancient Breach, when we emerged as survivors—and there were so few of us—our names became legends overnight. Fame carried me higher than I ever anticipated. I was recommended for the position, and somehow, here I am." She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. "But what brings you here, my Lord? I never thought I would see you in a cathedral... knowing how much of a ’believer’ you are."

Lucien swirled his wine, watching the liquid catch the light. "I thought I might find something interesting here. Perhaps get a few answers to questions that have been haunting me." His lips curved into a knowing smile. "As it turns out, I did find something very interesting indeed. Now only the answers remain."

Isalyn’s brow furrowed. "What could possibly be interesting about this puny cathedral, my Lord?"

She had once been a devout believer—a priestess whose holy skills could drag souls back from the brink of death. But the day Lucien had revived her after she had already died, her faith had shattered and reformed around a new deity entirely. She had stayed in the priesthood not out of devotion to the gods above, but because it made her more powerful, more useful to him. And because she knew that in the halls of power, she would eventually cross paths with him again.

"Puny?" Lucien chuckled darkly. "Well, to you, perhaps. But what I found here is anything but insignificant." He set down his goblet, his eyes locking onto hers. "I found a gate."

Isalyn’s breath caught. "A gate? A gate to where, my Lord?"

"A gate to the Demonic Realm," he said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. He took another sip of wine, utterly unbothered.

Isalyn’s face drained of color. "What? How?" Her voice pitched higher, panic bleeding through. "Does that mean the Demonic Realm is invading the Human Realm? Like Zarah? Like the—"

"I don’t know the full extent of it yet," Lucien interrupted, his composure unshaken. "But there was a Demonic Inheritance Dungeon as well. The demonic astral energy leaking from it created diseases that plagued this village. The people thought it was a curse from the gods." He took another sip. "The dungeon originated from the Demonic Realm. That’s why it never appeared in my Lost Atlas."

Isalyn’s hands trembled around her goblet. "This could end everything. The Human Realm—"

"Yes," Lucien agreed, his voice infuriatingly serene. "It could."

"Why are you so calm?" Isalyn demanded, leaning forward. "My Lord, this is worse than the Ancient Breach incident. It could kill everyone! Everything!"

Lucien set down his wine and reached across the table, his fingers brushing against her trembling hand. "No matter how much we panic," he said softly, "it will not change the facts. We have only one option: to become strong. Strong enough to protect ourselves. Strong enough to fight back." He squeezed her hand gently. "That is actually my second reason for coming here."

Isalyn blinked, confusion cutting through her fear. "Second reason?"

"Yes." Lucien’s eyes gleamed with purpose. "I am on the verge of breaking through to the Abyss Core Realm. I acquired the Abyssal Core Physique during the Ancient Breach. Soon—very soon—I will step into the fourth realm."

Isalyn’s jaw dropped. She had always known Lucien was powerful, but reaching the fourth realm was something else entirely. In the modern era, realm masters who achieved such heights were virtually unheard of. It was the stuff of ancient legends, of myths that had faded into obscurity.

But Lucien’s expression was not one of triumph. If anything, there was a shadow of concern lingering in his eyes. The Abyssal Core Realm did not worry him; what came after did.

To enter the Heaven Pulse Realm, he would need the approval of the Heavenly Realm itself. He would need to face the Heavenly Tribulations—trials sanctioned by the celestial powers that governed all existence. And for that, the entire Human Realm had to support him. The ritual required all twelve High Priestesses to use their combined power to open the gates of the Heavenly Realm.

And one of those twelve sat before him now.

Isalyn’s mind raced. She had heard whispers of the Heaven Pulse Realm, of the tribulations that awaited those foolish enough to seek immortality. For centuries, no human had dared attempt it.

"If you reach the point where you need the Tribulation," Isalyn said slowly, her voice hushed with reverence, "I will stand with you, my Lord. I will convince the other priestesses as well."

Lucien smiled, a genuine warmth softening his features. "And I will make it worth your while. I will find an Abyssal Core Physique for you as well—so you too can enter the next realm."

The words hung in the air, so casually spoken, as if he were promising to bring her flowers. But Isalyn knew the weight of that promise. The Abyssal Core Physique was not something one simply found; it was a treasure that one is born with, unscrupulous plans, and unfathomable luck to obtain. Lucien had nearly died to claim his to deceive the vessel of the Abyssal Core Physique. Yet she also knew that when Lucien made a promise, he kept it.

"I don’t need payment, my Lord," Isalyn said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I would help you even if you gave me nothing in return."

Lucien leaned closer, his hand still holding hers. His face drew near, his eyes burning with intensity. "I think you misunderstand, Isalyn. You are invaluable to me. I cannot lose you. In the future, my enemies will become stronger, and they will try to hurt me through those who are close to me. Through you. Through others." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "I refuse to let that happen."

Isalyn’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced her voice to remain steady. "I understand, my Lord. And I promise you—before anything or anyone ever tries to cross you, I will erase them myself."

Her eyes burned with a fierce, fanatical devotion, her vow absolute.

Another one of those crazy women, Lucien thought, a flicker of amusement dancing in his chest. Well, I suppose it’s better to have them on my side than against me.

He released her hand and leaned back, the tension in the air shifting. "I have one more request," he said, his tone becoming more businesslike. "There is a girl from a small village near the cathedral. She is a priestess—young, but with tremendous potential. I want you to look after her."

Isalyn tilted her head, curious. "I can do that. But what makes her so special to you?"

"She has a pure soul," Lucien said, his gaze distant. "One that could be shaped into something exceptional. But I also discovered something troubling: the cathedral has been pressuring her to sever all ties with her village before they will allow her to join fully."

Isalyn’s eyes narrowed. "They did? I rarely involve myself in such administrative matters, but if it bothers Lord Lucien, I will take care of it." She fell into thought. "If I’m not mistaken, this cathedral is funded by the Pasha family. They must have imposed that rule. I can overturn it, but..." Her brow furrowed. "Running a cathedral without funding is problematic."

"Don’t worry about that," Lucien said, waving a dismissive hand. "From now on, this cathedral will be funded by the Vale family."

Isalyn’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Lord Lucien will be here more often, then. I think I should make this cathedral my permanent residence."

"Perhaps," Lucien chuckled. "There was also something else I wanted to ask you about." He reached into the void, his fingers closing around an object that materialized in his palm.

Isalyn’s eyes widened. "A Divine Origin Key?"

Before he could respond, his senses flared. A familiar presence lingered just beyond the door—a scent he could now identify with perfect clarity, thanks to the Demonic Physique he had acquired. His expression remained impassive, but his mind sharpened.

A knock echoed through the chamber.

"Lady Isalyn," came a voice from the other side—the Archbishop, Lady Arianwen. "The Pasha family is here to see you."