Chapter 12

  (𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬)
This story contains dark and potentially distressing themes such as Twisted Religious aspects, Cult indoctrination , Gore, Psychological Horror and Death.

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The cascade of disasters left the world in ruins, leaving only a broken husk behind.

Hazes of smoke persisted in the atmosphere,  leisurely meandering on the air in graceful ribbon-like coils, yet carrying an acrid bitterness that clung to the tongue and stung the eyes.

Deep fissures spidered across the earth, the rubbles of multiple shelters crumbling at the edges of these chasms. Every so often, another piece of the debris that was once a home surrendered to gravity, tumbling into the hollow void below with a muffled crumble, swallowed before the sound could fully form.

The steady downpour of rain from the dark stormy clouds above washed over the shattered land as though trying to rinse it clean off the filth.

Theo’s body rested half on the damp ground, half cushioned by debris softened under the relentless rain.

Crystal droplets of rain gathered in his hair, running down his cheek and pooling in the hollow of his throat. The cold should have made him shiver and compelled him back into the devastated world surrounding him  —but his mind was somewhere else entirely and the storm was merely a distant static on his mind.

Because he was in a dream with his raison d’être—a dream stitched out of half-remembered youth and the soft blur of things that he didn’t know if it  happened, yet somehow felt true.

He stood beneath the shadow of the church’s covered walkway. The breeze carried the faint scent of  jasmine bushes the janitor never managed to trim properly.

And there you were, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair mussed by some passing mischief, eyes bright with a gleam he recognized too well—the kind that always meant trouble.

Uh-oh. That would probably mean that you would take him to his doom again.

“Hey, Théodore~,” You sang, stretching out the syllables in his name in an attempt to ragebait him—because well, you knew how much he hated his name.

Because god forbid a man hates the way his name sounds like as if it has been carved from French and English premium.

And as usual, it worked: a grimace contorted Theo’s features at the unwelcome sound of his full name, his fingers irritably tightening on the cold aluminum of his soda can.

“Fuck you.” He huffed in irritation, eye rolling as he drank a last mouthful of his soda, which made you smirk even more.

“Uh-uh, I’m going to tell the nuns and priests about that filthy mouth” You teased, poking at his side.

A frown pulled Theo’s brows together, a groan emerging from his throat as he threw the empty can of his soda on a nearby trashcan. “Seriously [Name]—”

“Wanna do something fun? I got something cool.” You cut his protests off as your hands dug into your pocket and  lifted a small crumpled packet, between your fingers.

Theo noticed the way your knuckles were scraped raw, swelling at the edges, and it almost made him wince—because that was practically a signature from the nuns who will hit you if you somehow didn’t manage to cite a certain verse from the bible.

But then, his gaze snagged on the small, crinkled packet held loosely in your fingers. Inside, he noticed a shimmering cascade of crystalline granules, making his stomach drop as realization dawned on him.

Oh, sweet mother of pearl, that was definitely not rice, but a drug. A cold sweat, the kind usually reserved for public speaking or tax audits, slicked his skin.

Fuck. They were going to be so spectacularly, irrevocably, and quite possibly biblically fucked if even a single student—or worse, a church member —were to catch sight of this.

He’d always known you possessed a certain reckless streak, but this? This was an audacious, suicidal invitation in public.

“Where’d you get that?” he murmured, voice pitched low, panic obvious in his face.

Your shoulders gave a dismissive shrug.  “Do you wanna try them with me or not?”

“No.” The word shot out, swift and cutting. Only then, did he realize that he had snapped on you. Shit, he hates disappointing you or making you feel like he has some hidden animosity towards you. He always had

“I mean—no, that stuff’s dangerous.  And you already look like you’ve been… I don’t know—punished enough. Where did you even get that—Seriously, don’t tell me you’ve been fighting with thugs again—”

You blinked at him, your expression crumbling into a wounded pout. Theo froze, the sudden onset of guilt blooming on his chest.

“Hey—hey, don’t do that.”
He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, hand lifting as if to offer a comforting pat to your shoulder, but it hesitated, suspended mid-air.

“I’m not trying to be mean. I just… I care about you, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You held his gaze for a long, drawn-out beat—until a mischievous, foxile grin bloomed across your face. A sharp, foxlike grin. The kind that signaled you’d been tugging him along by the nose the entire time.

Theo’s brows drew together in a puzzled knot. “What…?”

“Duh. I was just kidding, of course. That’s just a hook to get you to listen to me.” You leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I found something better than drugs.”

“Something insane.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re dealing with demons again,” Theo muttered, rubbing his face. “… What even happened to your hands? the usual”

You lifted your hands, letting him see the dark blossom of bruises that ringed them like cuffs.

“I got punished. Though, they gave me a different punishment room now. Cause I drew loads of penises on the walls.” You snickered.

Oh, so you vandalized something then. He expected no less from you.

“My new punishment room was basically the well in the courtyard now; they sent me down there today.”

Theo straightened, eyes widening.
“What? Why?? Dude, I seriously doubt that the dicks are the only reason.”

“I mouthed off too.” You stated with another careless shrug.

“Anyway, while I was down there, I found something. Like… some secret cave or passage. I don’t know if the church’s aware of it, but it makes me feel like this church used to be a place for cults back then.”

Theo’s curiosity tugs at his brain, despite the way it screams to be cautious and dismiss this. “Did you go inside?”

“Obviously not,” you scoffed. “I waited for you.” You muttered, fingers hooking around his sleeve, tugging him forward with playful insistence.

“C’mon. We’re going back.”

The dream then shifted as you dragged him across cracked tiles toward the courtyard. The old stone well sat in its usual place, ringed by chalky white lilies the nuns insisted grew “by the grace of heaven.”

You hopped onto the rim and looked down. “There’s no water here by the way,” you announced brightly. “So don’t you let your pretty little brain worry.”

Theo’s fingers scratched his nape awkwardly at the patronizing lilt on your tone.  “Are we… are we seriously doing this?” he croaked, the words barely escaping his throat.

And with that single, dismissive word, you jumpedl—vanishing with barely a sound.

“[NAME]?!”

Theo nearly shrieked in shock, a high-pitched sound catching in his windpipe. He stumbled forward, knees knocking, and peered down into the dim, cool void.

“OH MY GOD—”

“Shut up and get your ass down here, Théodore!” your voice boomed up from the darkness, echoing off the damp stone.

“Just jump! I’ll catch you!”

Far below, a pinprick of light revealed your form, head tilted back, a wide, impish grin splitting your face as if plunging into a subterranean chasm was the most mundane activity imaginable.

…

Damn you for being so persuasive.

Theo breathed out shakily and swung one leg over the rim, then jumped. “I swear… I’m going to die because of you someday, you menace.”

The drop was a dizzying plunge, a cool rush of air embracing him. He hits the ground in an undignified thump, knees buckling, dust rising in a pale cloud around him.

Your laughter bubbled forth and it was the kind of laugh that made the ruined world above seem impossibly distant for Theo.

And behind you, half-hidden by the shadowed curvature of stone, a narrow gap yawned open—black as ink, waiting for two foolish teenagers to discover whatever slept inside.

“See?” you whispered, taking a flashlight out of your bag. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

Theo’s breath caught as the gap in the well’s stone wall narrowed at first—just wide enough for your shoulders to slip through—but once the two of you pushed past the edges, the space opened into a low underground chamber.

Dust hung in the air like powdery fog, stirred by each cautious step. Theo brushed cobwebs off his sleeves, sneezing softly.

“Remind me,” he muttered as he ducked under a sagging beam, already taking his inhaler out of his bag. “why am I doing this again?”

“Because I said so?” You shot back, laughing at his futile protests. Theo had just decided to give up because you’re just as stubborn as a chow chow. If not, more.

The tunnel sloped downward the farther you walked, your footsteps crunching over brittle stones and long-dead twigs.

This place is strange,  Theo thought as he kept close, one hand hovering near your back in case the ground gave way, while the other one clenched his inhaler tightly.

So it does feel like some underground place of cults…just as [Name] have said. He mused, eyes darting around.

As much as trepidation curls on him, he knew that he would probably still follow you despite his fears.

After all, you were his sun. And the moon always follows the sun.

Theo cleared his throat awkwardly to get your attention. “So, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Your pace slowed as your head whirled towards him, profile limned by the faint silver of your flashlight beam. “Yeah?”

“How did you—” his voice cracked softly before steadying, “—how did you even become an atheist?”

Great job, Theo. You’re not even supposed to ask that, dummy! Now he’s gonna be uncomfortable! Theo mentally despaired.

“Easy,” you hummed.

Theo blinked in confusion. “Easy? That’s not—easy. It took me a long time to… get rid of the indoctrinations that they’ve instilled within me…”

“It is,” you insisted.

“I just don’t believe in a god who says he loves you but throws you into hell just because you don’t believe in him. Imagine, a genocider and a rapist can go to heaven if they ‘repent’, but a kind person who has done a lot of good things their whole life, will go to hell if they do not believe in him.”

He… has a point
Theo thought as he frowned, nearly tripping over a root. “That’s… very blunt.”

“Yeah, so what? I’m not gonna sugarcoat everything cause you’re not a baby anymore. Also, the moment faith becomes authoritarian, disbelief becomes ethical.” You continued.

“And no, I’m not nihilistic. I’m just refusing to outsource my morality. I choose sincerity over certainty. Do you get it?”

You stepped over a fallen stone, placing your hand along the cold wall to steady yourself.

“…No, too many big words.” Theo awkwardly admitted with a wince.

“Ugh… seriously?” You groaned. “Fine then. I’ve read the Bible,” you continued. “I actually read it. And everything inside it told me to stop believing.”

Theo stopped outright in confusion. You… read it? he have always thought that you were too much of a non-believer and antichrist to actually read the bible.

“You read the whole thing?”

“Twice.” You turned, walking backward now, your voice low and matter-of-fact.

“It contradicts itself so much it’s practically a philosophical puzzle game—except if you get it wrong, you’re threatened with eternal torment.”

Theo’s eyebrows twitched up in curiosity. “So… do you believe in heaven or not?”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb. I do not reject heaven, and I only  reject the conditions placed upon entry!” You smacked him in irritation.

“If a deity exists and wants to be loved, fear isn’t a good foundation. You hear me?”

Before either of you could argue more, the tunnel abruptly widened into a stone archway.

Beyond it lay a forgotten chamber—rows of rptting shelves bowed under the weight of ancient books. Dust fountained up with every footstep, shimmering in the slant of your flashlight.

Your breath caught. “Holy—”

“Don’t say holy,” Theo murmured without thinking.

You shot him a look. “Really?”

He flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

You approached the nearest shelf. The books were thick, their covers cracked like old leather skin. Strange sigils spiraled across the spines—some in languages neither of you knew, others in Latin, a few in curling symbols that hurt the eyes if stared at too long.

Theo lingered behind you, scanning the titles aloud.

“Chronicles… Omens… Vaticinia…”
Then his finger brushed one volume leaning crookedly against the edge.

“What about this?”

You tugged it free, dust cascading like sand from the pages as you opened it.
The parchment inside was yellowed, ink scrawled in feverish handwriting—letters sprawling like tangled roots.

Theo leaned in, head resting on top of your shoulders. “What does it say?” he whispered.

You traced a line with your fingertip, heart thudding. “It’s… a prophecy. I think.”

Theo stiffened. “About what?”

You swallowed, reading slowly, the words thick and ominous in your mouth:

And it shall come to pass in the waning of days: When the breath withdraweth from the sun,
and the earth casteth off her veins as an old garment, a dread rite shall rise among the people.With offerings crimson as the dawn, they shall seek the favor of the Saint of Death,
pleading that the fallen shepherd be restored unto his place.
And if the veil be parted and the resurrection be granted,
then shall The Undying stir once more, walking the shattered earth as a scourge of judgment.
Hell’s leash shall be loosened, and the nations shall tremble.

Uhm… what the fuck? Confusion flourished Theo’s face.

“What is that even supposed to mean—” Theo wasn’t able to finish his sentence as a a haze of blurry tremor hit him like a tidal wave—sound collapsing into a dull roar, the shelves swimming, your outline smearing into light and shadow.

Theo staggered back, clutching his head.

“[Name]!—” he tried to say your name, but the syllable dissolved on his tongue as the world folded inward.

“Fuck—”
A delirium-laden curse fell from his lips, a pounding headache assaulting him.

“—He’s breathing! Hey, he’s breathing—!”

“Get him up, get him up— Théodore, can you hear us?”

Voices surged around him like a tide, overlapping in frantic crescendos as invasive hands seized his shoulders.

The world reeled, a dizzying blur, and then a searing lance of light pierced his eyelids, sharp as a needle.

A ragged cough ripped itself out of his lungs, scraping up dust and blood, as though he were choking on the ruins he’d been buried beneath.  “…ngh… ’m—here…”

A collective rush of relieved gasps enveloped him.

“Oh, thank god— Theo! Man, we thought you were gone—”

“We lost so many— but you’re— you’re alive—!”

Alive.

The word clanged hollow in his ears. It felt so wrong. Because the the last thing he remembered was your voice breaking—calling his name—your arms lifting him even when your own legs were giving out.

The cataclysmic quake, the howling tempest, and your frantic hands shaking him, trying to rouse him.

Then—

An abyss of absolute blackness.

Theo’s heart plummeted now, cold dread sluicing through him as he forced his eyes open to the faces crowding him—faces that did not belong to you.

It was from the few friends that he have made on the settlement. Most of them are either on  the patrolling role or the look out role though.

“[Name]… w-where… where is he—”

His gaze darted wildly from person to person, scanning every corner, every shadow, as though you might appear if he just looked fast enough, hard enough.

But all he found were their faces pulled tight with confusion. “Who… the hell are you talking about, Theo?”

“Was he… with someone? Did we miss someone?”

Who…?” another repeated.

Their confusion quickly curdled into something else—wary, skeptical, the kind of look reserved for people who start bleeding from places no one can see.

His vision blurred as tears gathered—hot, disbelieving, furious.

What if you’d used the last of your strength to shield him—and died for it?

Did you die?

“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!”
The cry ripped through his throat, raw, desperate, wild enough to make those holding him flinch.

“VAELIX, OR WHATEVER YOU ALL CALL HIM, WHERE IS HE?!”

A hush rippled through them, a shift in the air as if Theo had uttered a forbidden name.

A man at his right recoiled first, his face twisting. “…You mean him?”

“So it’s that heretic bastard you’re always with then. If he’s gone missing, then it’s good riddance. He probably crawled off to finish whatever blasphemy he started. Yzrivis wouldn’t be tearing the sky apart if not for him.”

A murmur spread—resentful, bitter, fearful.

“He’s a curse.”

“He’s why so many died.”

“He’s the reason why the storms won’t stop.”

“That thing should’ve been purged before any of this.”

Theo’s jaw locked, a tremor running through him as his breath snagged in his throat—a choked gasp born of disbelief, morphing into primeval fury.

How dare they speak of you like that?

How dare they defile your name with such venomous lies?

How dare they think you were the cause of ruin, when you were the only thing holding his world together?

He tried pushing to his feet, but hands held him back again—less gentle now, more wary, as if a fragile fever had snapped and revealed teeth underneath.

“Let me—” his breath broke, voice cracking, “—LET ME SEE HIM!”

“Theo, listen,” someone barked, “if that creature’s alive, he’s the reason why everything is in ruins. He disrespected Yzrivis and even mutilated a child. He messed with your head—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Theo snarled, and he was ready to punch that dude when a voice rang out.

“Enough!” A familiar woman with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes yelled.

Theo vaguely remembered hearing that woman’s name from your lips—and the way that you said it dripped with animosity.

What was her name again?

Lysara?—

“Sister Lysara—let’s just leave him here if he’s going to side with that heretic—! Yzrivis will punish us more if we—” One tried to protest.

“I said enough, Somal!”

The man stiffened, jaw clamping shut, though his glare still simmered. The others shifted uneasily, their hatred stumbling into something closer to dread under her stare.

Lysara’s voice cracked through the gathering like a whip—sharp, cold, absolute.

“Enough, Somal. I won’t say it again.”

The man stiffened, jaw clamping shut, though his glare still simmered. The others shifted uneasily, their hatred stumbling into something closer to dread under her stare.

Lysara drew in a slow, trembling breath—her thin chest rising, her fingers clutching the prayer-threads at her wrist.

When she spoke again, her voice was steadier… but laced with something fierce.

“You blame him,” she stated, sweeping her gaze across them all, “because it’s easier than admitting the truth.”

“What truth?” someone spat.

“That Yzrivis is furious because we failed,” Lysara answered, her stare hollow but burning. “Because you all stained this sanctuary with sin long before Vaelix set foot inside it.”

A ripple of unease broke across the crowd.

“Don’t twist this—!”

“He is the cause—”

“Lysara, you’re deluded! He has probably manipulated you too! No wonder why you started changing when he was in your care—You have been letting the heretic corrupt you—”

“Am I?” she cut in sharply.

“Because I remember what this place was like before he arrived. It was a  dying outpost filled with spoiled crops, failing wards and children too weak to stand. And then—” she lifted her hand, pointing an accusatory finger at all of them,

“—the moment he crossed our threshold, everything bloomed.”

“You all saw it,” Lysara continued. “Yzrivis granted us mercy.”

Someone swallowed hard.
“That— that was coincidence…”

“Coincidence?” Lysara’s laugh was low, bitter. “Then explain Father Halren and Father Myron. Are we seriously all going to fight over this when we’ve only got each other now?”

A collective flinch rippled all over the room, while Theo’s breath hitched, every muscle tight.

He didn’t know…. these things at all, it was a foreign concept to him; except for the fact that he had saw… how brutally those two fuckers got killed.

Disgust rippled through the crowd—some ashamed, some defensive, some remembering far too vividly.

“…And Halren and Myron, they were the ones who hurt him the most, didn’t they?” Lysara muttered.

And I’m probably next, aren’t I? she thought bitterly.

She shook her head, then grabbed Theo’s dirty collar and dragged him up. Eyes blankly scanning the dead corpses around them.

“Come on. Let us find him.”

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⤷ꫂ ၴႅၴ₊✦── .✧ 𝐘𝐙’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ˎˊ˗ᯓ

⊹₊ ⋆𝐓𝐖𝐎 more chapters left until the end! I need to know; are people still reading this? Do let me know. I mainly focused. on Theo’s POV on this for some reasons I can’t disclose haha.

⊹₊ ⋆𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐘, I’ve recently uploaded another BL book entitled “Should Petals Fall” It’s about horror filo folklore and mythology. Check it out if that kind of stories interests you.

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𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓

I’d like to address two issues regarding this fuckass fic. I’ll probably delete this as soon as these issues get resolved.

First of all, the constant comparisons are becoming extremely frustrating and it’s pissing me off, and making me feel sad. I don’t really want to cause conflicts + whatever similarities you think you’re noticing are most likely coincidental.

Everything seemed minor to me at first so I didn’t speak up about it and just ignored it, but it has began to become excessive, and it’s starting to cross a line in a way that feels disrespectful to me.

Please take the time to actually analyze the story before making accusations, and a more careful reading would prevent a lot of these misunderstandings.

I really do love reading comments and it makes me happy, but that feeling deflates whenever I see comparisons that are just implied accusations. So please do stop it. I’m losing the motivation to continue this fic because of those kind of comments.

I’m not posting this to gain pity; I just want to make it clear that I don’t appreciate being compared to others because it makes me uncomfortable, and I find it disrwspectful.

Second, I want to make it very clear that I do not want anyone creating an AI (c.ai or whatever AI site) chatbot based on this book or its characters. Anyway, a lil backstory regarding this; while I was checking whether there were any c.ai plagiarizers targeting my moot’s story (because they are unfortunately being plagiarized via c.ai) I came across an Yzrivis bot that basically just summarized the plot of the first to third chapter, and the overall dynamics typa shit.

Please refrain from making or using such bots.

Do not upload my work into AI systems or feed my characters and storylines into automated bots especially on c.ai.

I did a little research about it, and in case you don’t know—when you input a certain writing into these systems, the AI can internalize patterns from it, absorb stylistic elements like the writing style, and store fragments within its training data & once that happens, the model wll generate outputs that attempts mimic, replicate, or outright reproduce works without consent. In short, it’s PLAGIARISM.

SO FUCK GENERATIVE AI.

PS: This issue has been happening to a lot more other authors who got their works reproduced by some c.ai creators without their explicit consent. So please do spread the word, in case this is also happening to them without their knowledge.

That’s all. I just really hope that the issues I addressed will be fixed and disappear soon.