Chapter 194 “Transmit”

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Vanna found herself drawn back to the archives once more. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for her continuous visits, but an overwhelming feeling of unease and looming crisis drove her to retrace her steps. It was as if she had overlooked a vital piece of information, something essential, but she couldn’t grasp what it was.

Another compelling reason for her return was the fact that she had no other place to retreat to.

Ever since she became deeply connected with the Vanished and its captain, she found herself under incessant watch. Although she retained her title as the inquisitor of the city-state of Pland, it was merely because there was no one available to take up her significant responsibilities. As a result, she was confined to the cathedral, venturing outside only for critical obligations.

Given her limited freedom, Vanna sought solace in distractions, and the archives became a perfect refuge, shielding her from the world’s complexities.

She moved silently amidst the towering bookshelves, her every step echoing in the vast room. Yet, she wasn’t entirely alone. A few paces behind, a middle-aged priest shadowed her, his lantern casting a gentle, warm light, serving both as guidance and protection against any malevolent forces.

Vanna found herself at the section holding documents from 1889 and 1885. She had been here before, pouring over records, unearthing sinister hints of sporadic heretical sacrifices, and eventually stumbling upon some absent files. These recollections replayed in her mind repeatedly, forming a consistent narrative. However, her instincts, honed from years as an inquisitor, nudged her that something didn’t fit right, causing her to question her own memories.

“Your Excellency?” The priest’s voice broke the silence, echoing through the chamber after a long pause.

“There’s something amiss… I remember that I wasn’t alone during my last visit. Someone was with me… but who could that have been?”

Vanna seemed oblivious to the priest’s presence, her entire focus on the puzzle before her. Memories of the Sixth District chapel and the departed nun resurfaced.

It struck her that everyone had forgotten about that particular section of the cathedral, which was why it remained undetected for such a long time.

“Is the lapse in my memory similar to how everyone forgot about the chapel? They overlooked it, creating a void. What crucial detail am I missing, just like them? When did this collective amnesia take place?”

“Your Grace?” The priest’s voice rang out again, this time more assertive, demanding her attention.

The air was thick with tension as Vanna sensed the gathering force of the storm around her. She also couldn’t help but notice the discreet movement of the middle-aged priest’s hand, inching towards the gun secured at his waist.

Calmly breaking the silence, Vanna posed a question, “How long have you served as an archivist here?”

The impending sense of the storm gradually receded, causing the priest to ease his posture. He bowed his head respectfully and responded, “For seven years now, ever since I took early retirement.”

Vanna inquired further, “You aren’t the sole archivist here, are you?”

The priest explained, “No, there’s another besides me. An older woman handles the night shifts. Both of us are retirees from the guardian force.”

With a casual demeanor, Vanna continued their conversation while walking among the bookshelves. “Only the two of you? Doesn’t the workload ever get overwhelming?”

The priest was direct in his response, “The daily tasks of an archivist aren’t typically demanding. Our trainees handle the filing and organization based on our guidelines. The only strenuous activities we might occasionally engage in involve transporting certain sensitive materials. Our primary duty is vigilance – to spot inconsistencies or anomalies. Given our vast experience, younger staff members frequently seek our counsel.”

Pausing for a moment, the priest then added, “Having said that, two staff members on rotation isn’t ideal. Should any unforeseen events occur, one of us would have to disturb the other to fill in. In my opinion, a team of three would be more efficient.”

Absorbed in thought, Vanna echoed, “Three…” Then, redirecting the conversation, she inquired, “Has the missing data from 1885 been located?”

Regretfully shaking his head, the priest replied, “No, despite our efforts. Following your identification of the discrepancies, we mobilized hundreds of trainees and clerics to comb through the entire archive. Unfortunately, our search yielded no results.”

A silent understanding passed between them as Vanna locked her gaze onto the priest. After a momentary pause, the priest offered a slightly apprehensive smile.

She reassured him, “Fear not. I’ve only encountered that phantom captain once. My faculties are still intact. Nevertheless, should you observe any odd behavior from me, please notify me at once, and I promise to do the same for you. My professional integrity remains undiminished.”

With a sigh, the priest responded, “My apologies. It’s just that I’ve witnessed many colleagues fade away due to lapses in judgment.”

Vanna nodded in agreement to the priest’s suggestion, wandering around the aisle as if searching for something. As she roamed, her vision seemed to blur for a split second, and she imagined she saw a vague silhouette lingering by a desk near the entrance.

The shock caused Vanna’s eyes to widen dramatically, but just as quickly as the figure had appeared, it disappeared.

The middle-aged priest, observing her sudden change in demeanor, inquired with concern, “Your Grace, did you see something unusual?”

Taking a moment to process, she finally responded, “I thought I saw something… But let’s confirm. Come.”

Without giving the priest time to respond, Vanna quickly began walking towards the desk. Within moments, her brisk walk turned into a near run. As she approached the curved desk, there was no sign of any figure. However, there was a curious mechanical device prominently displayed on the desk, presumably for administrative tasks.

Vanna, not deterred, moved to the other side of the desk, inspecting closely. Hidden behind a small screen on the side of the desk were a few abandoned mechanical parts. Covered in layers of rust, they seemed ancient, as if forgotten for years. Their shapes hinted they were once part of a mechanical puzzle cube.

But what caught her off guard was the peculiar scent that wafted towards her as she inspected these relics. It was an unusual combination of mechanical grease mingled with the fragrance of incense that had been burned with it.

The priest, now by her side with his lantern, voiced his confusion, “What are these artifacts? Who could have left them behind?”

Vanna pointed out some additional oddities she discovered on the table: oily residues that seemed to outline a particular pattern or symbol.

Her heartbeat quickened, and suddenly a piercing noise reverberated in her mind, causing her vision to fluctuate between clarity and darkness. Yet, rather than inducing fear, this disorienting sensation sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through her.

Vanna recognized the sensation – it was a divine sign from the goddess, alerting her of something significant nearby. The truth she sought was hidden somewhere in this archive!

Whispering a silent prayer to Gomona, the Storm Goddess, Vanna turned to the priest, “Hand me the lantern.”

Without hesitation, the priest passed her the lantern – an ornate device inscribed with sacred runes and powered by a divine essence. As Vanna held it closer to the table’s greasy residues, a delicate plume of smoke or mist materialized momentarily before dissipating. And then, in the fleeting interplay of light and shadow, she discerned it – the mysterious “smudge”.

Etched in dark crimson blood, the symbol on the table appeared to be a desperate attempt, perhaps by a dying individual to convey an urgent message. The mark depicted what seemed like a series of blazing bonfires encircling a central cylindrical object.

This was not a familiar emblem of the Storm Church, nor was it a blessing bestowed by the revered Storm Goddess, Gomona.

However, Vanna recognized it immediately – it was unmistakably the insignia of the Flame Bearers.

“Why would the Flame Bearers symbol be present within a storm sanctuary?” Vanna pondered internally. While it’s true that the four righteous deities are allies, often leading their respective churches to collaborate, they still represent distinct faiths.

Her mind raced, connecting fragmented memories: The Flame Bearers… The secluded chapel in the sixth block… The overlooked nun… The erased historical event… Another version of Pland lurking beneath the known reality…

Gasping for breath as realization dawned upon her, Vanna understood the gravity of the symbol’s presence. It was a dire warning, perhaps the final message from a forgotten guardian left to fend off an unknown adversary in this desolate archive.

“Someone has tampered with our history!” The young inquisitor declared, swiftly turning to address the priest overseeing the archives.

To her astonishment, she was met with sheer emptiness. The vast room appeared devoid of any other presence. It was as if, from the onset, she had been the sole occupant of the archives.

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