Evangeline Rohanson, hanged from a tree...
A ridiculous vision. Perhaps it was the strange rumors Gabriel had heard before departing that were to blame. While gathering information about Evangeline, he'd come across a priest's tale of witnessing a dead woman's resurrection.
Gabriel had checked the church records—no mention of Evangeline's funeral existed anywhere. He'd tracked down the priest rumored to have performed the girl's last rites, but the man had already committed suicide. Hanged himself in his own home.
He'd left no will. The house was empty, without a single clue. Neighbors would only say that the late priest had secretly performed funeral services for suicides and charged handsomely for his discretion.
Gabriel and Rafaella boarded the carriage heading toward the main temple.
"And Michelle?" Gabriel asked.
"Still standing in front of that painting, mesmerized. I'm afraid he might step *into* it."
Reactions to Jim Nofedi's painting were sharply polarized. Some, like Gabriel and Rafaella, sensed something sinister lurking beneath its surface. Others considered it a sacred depiction of an angel—practically a holy relic.
The knight who had examined Donau Blue's body alongside Gabriel belonged firmly to the second group. He believed with unshakeable conviction that Donau had been an angel, and now spent hours standing before Nofedi's painting, which had been donated to the temple.
The black canvas was impossible to miss against the snow-white walls of the church. Parishioners who came to pray froze before it as if hypnotized, their prayers forgotten on their lips. Gabriel and several others had suggested removing the painting, but their concerns fell on deaf ears.
Gabriel felt as though some kind of devilish obsession had descended upon them all.
"Any leads?" Rafaella asked.
"Leads..."
The conversation with Evangeline had yielded some results. She hadn't taken Donau's body—only the sheet of paper bearing that peculiar symbol. So the problem wasn't with Donau Blue himself, but with this symbol.
"Young Lady Rohanson called it... a magic summoning circle."
"How would *she* know that?"
"According to her, it's her own creation. Donau Blue stole it."
"Really?" Rafaella's eyebrows rose. "And who does this circle summon?"
Gabriel thought for a moment, recalling their conversation.
"Angels," he answered.
"Angels?" Rafaella's voice sharpened. "So that scrap of paper we found has something to do with this?"
She shuddered visibly and hugged herself against a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
Donau's remains were kept in an urn in the church crypt. The body had burned to ite ash—dust that crumbled at the slightest touch. Only a single fragment of paper had been found among the remains.
How could that scrap have survived such flames? Fire capable of incinerating human bone should have destroyed paper instantly. It was eerily reminiscent of Evangeline herself—who had supposedly escaped that inferno without a single burn marring her pale skin.
Assembling the fragments like pieces of a macabre puzzle, they had reconstructed the drawing: the same magic circle, accompanied by a few charred words. Most of the text was lost forever, but one phrase remained intact:
> *With trembling and reverence, greet the Angel of Light descending to earth.*
"It looks like someone is trying to summon an angel," Rafaella said slowly.
*If so*, Gabriel thought grimly, *the creature born from this sinister symbol will resemble Evangeline Rohanson. Unlikely to be saintly and merciful... Far more likely to be cruel and utterly merciless.*
"Then perhaps people are right?" Rafaella ventured. "Perhaps Donau Blue truly was blessed?"
"Nonsense." Gabriel's voice was flat, final. "Donau Blue attempted to summon a demon through sacrifice, and he paid the price for his hubris. As for this paper fragment... let's keep that between ourselves."
Rafaella nodded. If the problem wasn't Donau himself but the symbol, then perhaps destroying the painting might change the situation entirely.
*A magic summoning circle...* Gabriel had heard of such things somewhere before.
More than ten years ago, such rituals had been quite popular. People had tried desperately to summon entities capable of fulfilling their wishes. When exactly had that been? Gabriel had still been a child then; he couldn't remember precisely. There had been a major purge approximately twenty years ago—all the witches had been caught and executed.
Upon returning, he would need to visit the archives and study the records from that era.
"Rafaella, do you by any chance know anything about—"
Gabriel had been about to ask Rafaella about witchcraft when the carriage lurched violently.
The shriek of wheels against stone.
The carriage tilted at a dangerous angle, but the driver managed—barely—to keep it from overturning completely. Outside, frantic shouts could be heard as the driver struggled to calm the panicking horses.
"What—what happened?! Commander, are you all right?!"
"Are you injured?"
Fortunately, the carriage righted itself quickly, and neither of them had been harmed.
"Hey! You *said* you were skilled at handling horses!" Rafaella protested, throwing open the door and leaping out onto the cobblestones.
The coachman, seeing that his passengers were armed knights, turned pale with fear. He'd nearly overturned the carriage because of some *cat*. He braced himself for punishment—perhaps he should have simply run the wretched animal over!
But fortunately for the coachman, Gabriel believed it was better to suffer oneself than to cause harm to another living thing. Anyone who, as a child, had watched a carriage crush their friend beneath its wheels would probably feel the same.
"My assistant and I are unharmed. Don't trouble yourself," Gabriel reassured him.
The coachman exhaled with visible relief. Raising his head after offering countless apologies, he finally noticed the emblem emblazoned on Gabriel's robes—the radiant sun of the god Rachel. He silently noted that the Knights Templar were, after all, different from ordinary nobles.
Rafaella returned to the carriage, and they continued on their way.
"Commander, my heart nearly stopped!" she wailed, still clutching her chest. "I haven't recovered yet!"
Listening to her dramatic lamentations, Gabriel found himself wondering. Was it truly coincidence that the carriage had nearly overturned at the precise moment he'd begun to mention witchcraft?
---
## — The Monastery —
Rumors about a new and unusual painting were circulating throughout the temple.
They said that a pious girl had fainted upon seeing it, and the sun god himself had appeared to her in a dream. That the High Priest was delighted and had generously rewarded the artist. That the painting served as a kind of filter, capable of identifying unbelievers by their reactions to it.
The gossip, acquiring ever more elaborate details with each telling, spread throughout the city.
It also reached a secluded monastery on the outskirts of the capital.
"I wonder when Brother Berg will return?"
"Who knows? Why do you care? Personally, I'd prefer if that pervert never came back."
"Well... they say he visited the main temple. So he must have seen that painting. I'd like to know if everything they're saying about it is true."
"Silly girl, of course it isn't! Don't be so naive."
The women in nuns' robes, who had been sweeping the courtyard and chattering among themselves, fell abruptly silent when they spotted Daisy approaching. They pretended to be absorbed in their work.
"Good afternoon, sisters," they greeted her with practiced politeness.
"May the light of the sun be with you."
Despite their courteous words, they didn't even offer a proper nod. Daisy silently lowered her head in return and walked past. As soon as she had moved far enough away, the whispers resumed behind her.
"Poor thing. She'll be in trouble when Brother Berg returns."
The nuns, having confirmed that Daisy could no longer hear them, laughed amongst themselves.
Daisy needed to finish cleaning the library before evening, but she was already significantly behind schedule. Trying to ignore the voices drifting from behind her, she quickened her pace.
Three weeks had passed since she'd fled the Rohanson estate and found refuge in this monastery.
Away from the monster that had possessed Evangeline—away from its countless watching eyes—the world seemed almost peaceful. Almost normal.
Life at the monastery wasn't all that terrible. Daisy was new here and shy by nature, so she kept mostly to herself. That didn't bother her overmuch.
The nuns she'd just encountered were primarily daughters of noble families. They might serve God, but they would never lower themselves to associate with a commoner. Daisy understood they would never accept her, so she didn't waste energy trying.
"Hey—Daisy!"
She had almost reached the library doors when someone called out to her.
Looking back, Daisy saw one of the nuns she'd just passed. The girl was breathing heavily, having clearly run to catch up. Why had she come? They barely knew each other.
Seeing Daisy waiting, the nun seemed to gather her courage before speaking:
"I just found out... Brother Berg is returning today. If... if he sends for you tonight, do *not* go to him. Under any circumstances. Do you understand?"
*That* was why she'd come running. The unexpected kindness touched something in Daisy's chest. She nodded gratefully.
"Thank you for the warning. I'll definitely refuse."
The monastery was a good place, except for one significant problem—Brother Berg.
He had a notorious reputation as a womanizer. Rumor held that he pursued every new nun who arrived. And from Daisy's brief personal experience, the rumors were entirely accurate.
He had taken her hand, ostensibly to encourage her, then begun stroking her shoulder with increasing familiarity... And that *look*. Sticky. Lustful. Daisy's heightened senses—sharpened by months of terror at the Rohanson estate—couldn't possibly be mistaken.
Since Berg might send someone to fetch her, it would be safer to spend the night in the library. She could finish the cleaning at the same time.
---
The clock hands had crept past two in the morning.
Looking at the timepiece hanging on the library wall, Daisy decided it was finally safe to return to her quarters.
As she left the library, she froze. A man stood waiting near the entrance to the dormitory—clearly positioned to intercept her. *Was he still here?*
It wasn't Brother Berg himself, but one of his sycophantic followers.
"Sister, did you have a pleasant walk last night?" he asked with a knowing smirk.
"I was cleaning the library and lost track of time. I'm exhausted and wish to sleep," Daisy replied flatly, reaching for the door handle.
The monk blocked her path, pressing his palm flat against the wood.
"Wait. Brother Berg asked me to deliver a message. Listen to what he has to say, and *then* you may go."
---