In the outer outskirts of Tivian, a deeply hidden location concealed a secret prison. Inside it were confined priests who were originally meant to be on an important journey. After suffering a disgraceful ambush, they were imprisoned here. And after several days of strict surveillance, they had gradually lost all hope of escape.
Inside a cramped, dim cell, the Tivian Church priest Pearson was still trapped. Heavy chains bound his body, and the thick stone walls cut him off from freedom.
Within this cage, Pearson had tried countless times to save himself. He attempted to break free from the shackles, to escape the prison, and to rescue his fellow captives so they could return to the cathedral district and report what had happened. But the strength of the locks, the sturdiness of the walls, and the tight security had all far exceeded Pearson’s expectations. After exhausting his strength and effort, he had made not even the slightest progress. Every attempt ended in failure.
Now, Pearson sat slumped in the dim, narrow cell, leaning against a corner wall, staring blankly at the cold ceiling. His pupils were empty and dull. He had given up on escape. He now simply waited silently for his end.
“According to those people… once they’ve arranged their soul-binding method, they’ll just get rid of us, won’t they? Looks like… this is an irreversible end. It’s a pity I couldn’t get word back about the danger Sister Vania and the others are about to face.”
So thought Pearson in despair. As a clergyman, in such circumstances, prayer was all he had left.
“O Lord… merciful Holy Mother… if Sister Vania is truly the one chosen by You, then please bless her with safety. Please deliver us from this prison, so that we may reveal the conspiracy targeting Your chosen ones…”
He closed his eyes and prayed silently in his heart. It was a prayer he had repeated countless times in recent days, though none had brought any effect. Pearson didn’t expect this one to be any different—until a sudden loud crash outside his cell door changed his mind.
BOOM!!
“We’re under attack! Someone, help!”
Outside Pearson’s cell, sudden chaos erupted: howling winds, screams, shouting, gunfire—all at once, in waves. The cacophony left Pearson frozen in place, the emptiness in his eyes vanishing in an instant.
“What’s happening? A fight outside…? Could it be that another prisoner broke free? Or…”
Pearson’s thoughts raced in astonishment. He straightened up where he sat, raised his ears, and listened more carefully to what was happening beyond the walls. The winds and weapon clashes that had just surged suddenly began to die down, and in less than a minute, all the noise faded into complete silence. Outside the cell, all was still again.
As he listened, Pearson wondered whether the fighting had ended. Just as he was trying to guess who the combatants were and what the outcome had been, the heavy iron door before him suddenly slammed open.
“Ugh…”
With the abrupt swing of the massive door, a burst of light and a gust of wind flooded the narrow cell. The sudden brightness and chill made Pearson instinctively raise a hand to shield his eyes.
“This wind…”
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a figure appeared in the open doorway. Pearson saw a mysterious figure in a bloodstained cloak and hood slowly step forward, towering above him, looking down at him seated on the floor.
“Who… who are you!?”
Pearson cried out in shock. From beneath the hood came a woman’s voice.
“I am a protector of Pritt—one who purges the nation of spider venom.”
“Purge the spider’s venom… You mean… you’re an enemy of the Eight-Spired Nest? Was that you fighting the guards just now?”
Pearson asked in disbelief, and the mysterious woman replied.
“To be precise—we were. The Eight-Spired Nest’s fangs have already sunk into this nation’s nerves. We are here to heal it. That’s why we’ve come to rescue you and your companions.
“You are free now, Priest. Return to the Hymn Cathedral and report everything you’ve experienced to the Archbishop there. A wicked ritual is being prepared. Young saints are walking straight into peril. Only the purging blaze of judgment can hope to salvage what remains.”
As the mysterious cloaked woman finished speaking, she tossed a key onto the ground before Pearson. Before he could react further, she floated effortlessly away, drifting out through the open doorway—leaving Pearson sitting stunned, staring at the key that had landed before him.
“…A patriot of Pritt… and an Aeromancer?”
Murmuring as he picked up the key, Pearson’s eyes sharpened with renewed resolve. After a moment of steadying his breath, he used the key to unlock the shackles around him.
…
Pritt mainland, southwest region—Glamorne.
It was nighttime in Glamorne. The sky was cloudless, filled with a sea of stars. A round, brilliant full moon hung high in the heavens, casting its silver light down upon the darkened land, guiding all who wandered under the veil of night.
The moon and stars were reflected across the vast surface of Lake Starbind, where the calm waters seemed studded with countless gemstone-like points of starlight. Amid these, the moon’s reflection was the largest and brightest jewel of all, adorning the lake’s very center—where the lake’s central cathedral still stood tall and unmoving.
Within the cathedral, it was a scene of full illumination. The guards of the Holy Relic Pilgrimage team were posted as always, vigilantly watching over every corner. Inside, beneath the grand domed ceiling of the wide central nave, many figures had gathered. A closer look revealed them to be over a dozen nuns, all dressed in common habits.
Before the massive statue of the goddess holding the mirror, the nuns were grouped together in twos and threes, quietly discussing and consulting one another. Their faces held visible delight, as though something truly joyful had happened. In one corner of the cathedral stood two figures in slightly different attire from the rest—Vania Chafferon and “Sister Gray,” currently impersonated by Gossmore.
“I didn’t expect the training to go this well. In just a day or so, everyone’s already acting like they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. I thought it would take much longer,” Vania said as she stood on the clean marble floor, watching the nuns before her.
Beside her, Gossmore replied with a smile.
“I told you—the Sanctification Ritual isn’t difficult in essence. As long as the incantations are memorized and the chants are in rhythm, everything else follows naturally. Just go through the steps as laid out.”
After being persuaded to not only participate in the Sanctification Ritual but serve as its chief officiant, Vania had begun following “Sister Gray’s” guidance, receiving what was referred to as “special training” in order to master the ritual in a short time.
Gossmore, posing as Sister Gray, explained the full ritual process to her: the position of the officiant, the method of recitation, and more. She also provided Vania with a lengthy sheet filled with phonetic notations—supposedly the core incantation used in the ritual. Due to its cognitive poison properties, the true meaning of the incantation could not be learned or understood. It was instead transcribed in ancient Pritt phonetics, allowing it to be memorized and recited without comprehension.
Thanks to her background in the Historical Scripture Department, Vania was no stranger to rote memorization of texts. She managed to memorize the entire incantation nearly perfectly in just over half a day. After verifying this, Gossmore praised her and decided to accelerate the training schedule.
They entered the second phase of training. Following Gossmore’s instructions, Vania borrowed more than a dozen local nuns from Glamorne’s nearby church to serve as assistant officiants. Together, they relocated to the lake’s central cathedral to begin full-scene rehearsals. The local nuns, overjoyed at the chance to participate in such a major ritual alongside Vania, were enthusiastic and motivated.
Under Gossmore’s instruction, Vania quickly mastered all the actions expected of the main officiant. Meanwhile, the assistant nuns learned the roles they would play: supporting Vania’s ritual steps, marking ritual boundaries with their movements, and chanting praise hymns.
At last, after long hours of training, everyone knew their parts. The various components of the ritual had all been practiced. By then, the sky outside the cathedral had turned dark—signaling the close of another day.
“All right, it’s getting late,” said Gossmore as she looked out at the moonlit sky.
“Sister Vania, you should all return to rest soon. But before that, let’s run through the full ritual once more—just like we did earlier.”
Vania nodded.
“Yes, it’s about time we head back. But going through it once more before that sounds good for reinforcement.”
“Very well… Sisters, let’s do one final full rehearsal before heading back.”
Gossmore called out to the scattered nuns in the nave. Upon hearing her, the nuns quickly regrouped and arranged themselves in ritual formation. Vania took her place at the very front of the ritual layout, facing the immense statue of the Moon Mirror Goddess.
“Sister Vania,” Gossmore said as she approached, “before we begin this final rehearsal, there’s one more thing I’d like to tell you.”
Vania tilted her head in slight confusion.
“If there’s something to say, just say it, Sister Gray.”
Gossmore turned silently, gazing at the great Moon Mirror statue beside her. Then she began to speak slowly.
“In the Sanctification Ritual, the two most crucial elements are the ritual incantation and the ritual symbol. By changing either or both, the ritual can be tailored to different deities. That’s why, in the mysticism world beyond the Church, it’s often called a substitution ritual—a highly adaptable form of ritual.
“Now that you’ve mastered the incantation, we technically only need to swap out the ritual symbol for one of the Holy Mother, and the Sanctification Ritual can proceed. Unfortunately, the simplified symbolic statue of the Holy Mother is still en route with the arriving team. We must wait for their arrival to hold the formal ritual.
“This current heretical relic’s symbol is clearly this heretical goddess statue. Once the Holy Mother’s statue arrives, it will replace this one. During the ritual, you, Sister Vania, must keep your attention focused entirely on the replacement statue—treating it as the ritual’s center and objective. Only then can the ritual succeed.
“The main task of the officiant is to keep their attention fixed on the substituted symbol while reciting the incantation. This isn’t difficult in theory, but it requires practice to avoid mistakes. Sadly, we don’t yet have the statue here for you to train with… So I thought we might improvise.”
Hearing all this, Vania responded in confusion.
“Attention training? That does sound necessary… Do you have something in mind to use as a substitute focus?”
“Yes—I’ll stand in as your target,” said Gossmore, prompting a surprised reaction from Vania.
“Huh? Sister Gray, are you saying… you want me to treat you as if you were the Holy Mother?”
Gossmore smiled and clarified.
“No, no—that would be sacrilege. I just mean, treat me like a practice dummy. I’ll watch your gaze and check if your focus is consistent. That way, you’ll be more proficient when the real statue is in place.”
“Oh, I see.”
Vania nodded in understanding.
Satisfied, Gossmore stepped forward and stood at the front of the ritual formation, her back facing the Moon Mirror Goddess statue. She positioned herself between Vania and the other nuns.
“Once the heretical statue is removed, the Holy Mother’s will be placed right here—just slightly behind me. So now, Sister Vania, keep your eyes on me and run through the rehearsal again.”
Vania nodded, then led the assembled nuns in a final practice of the Sanctification Ritual.
As the rehearsal began, Vania, standing as the chief officiant, kept her eyes fixed on Gossmore ahead. After bowing reverently, she began stepping forward with slow, elegant movements.
The assistant nuns formed into rows, circling around Vania at the center of the ritual space. They walked in overlapping circular paths while chanting low hymns. The echo of pure, feminine murmurs filled the spacious cathedral, weaving an aura of mysticism and solemnity.
At the center, after several paces, Vania slowly performed a sequence of ritual gestures. Eventually, she knelt down, hands clasped before her chest, and began reciting the incantation—whose meaning she still did not know—clearly and reverently, all while keeping her gaze fixed forward.
In the position of her gaze, Gossmore stood. Watching the formal rehearsal commence, the smile on her lips gained a sharper, more wicked edge. As she verified Vania’s focused gaze and the incantation’s recitation, she silently murmured in her own heart.
“O Queen of the Deep Web, she whom all living beings fear… Goddess of Shadow and Murder, Mistress of Torment and Pain, Lady of Blood… I, Gossmore Archique, your most faithful servant, now pray to You at the threshold of the present world.
*“With the body of a Witch Regent, I shall act in Your name. Your will, I shall be. Your image, Your symbol—I shall walk the mortal realm, feared and revered.
“Now, I consecrate this moonlit domain beneath my feet into Your Webbed Nest…”