The Grand Collegium of Bastione, usually a hive of whispered gossip and feigned indifference, had become a tomb. The sky outside churned with the malevolent light of the fracturing heavens, casting an eerie purple glare through the stained-glass windows, painting the opulent halls in shades of bruised twilight. Rector Bellwether had declared a full lockdown, the iron portcullises groaning shut, sealing us inside with the creeping dread of the unfolding catastrophe. But dread was a luxury Ovidia Vencenza couldn’t afford. While others huddled, murmuring frantic prayers to uncaring gods, Ovidia was wrestling with a broken lock on a supply closet. “Right, just a bit more… there!” The flimsy latch gave way with a screech, revealing a chaos of forgotten reagents and cleaning supplies. She needed a distraction, something to give her and Tullio a fighting chance if the ‘quarantine’ turned into a bloodbath, which it inevitably would, given the genre. Nereo, her terrifyingly effective bodyguard, was currently too busy preventing the very fabric of reality from unravelling, which meant she was on her own for a bit. She imagined Nereo out there, perhaps single-handedly holding back a tide of void-spawn, his beautiful, unhinged smile fixed on his face. [Guide Book: Target’s devotion surging! +5 Pink Hearts!]. Even now, with the world ending, the system was churning out those damnable hearts. “Focus, Ovidia,” she muttered, grabbing a handful of sulphur powder and a few waxy candle stubs. “A flashbang, maybe? Or a smoke screen. Hmm, burnt bread crumbs… a bit of belladonna… this could work.” Meanwhile, Tullio, pale and fragile, didn't wait for his sister's instructions. The last crackling of the sky had sent a tremor through his bones, intensifying the cough that had plagued him for months. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the wet gurgle beneath his ribs. The 'Blessed Dew' Cosima had given him had made him worse, not better. He remembered the faint, metallic tang, the way it shimmered unnaturally in the light. Cosima's chamber, he reasoned, held the answer. He knew the Collegium's secret passages, the cramped service tunnels and disused vents that honeycombed the ancient structure. He moved with a silent, almost spectral grace, his thin frame slipping through the shadows. The air grew colder, thick with the scent of ozone and a nauseating sweetness, like lilies left to rot. He emerged behind a heavy velvet drape depicting the First Saintess banishing a chthonic beast, directly into Cosima del Santo's private study. The room was opulent, illuminated by luminous, pearlescent orbs that thrummed with a soft, ethereal light. His gaze immediately fell upon a display cabinet. Not scrolls, not relics of ancient saints, but a collection of glistening, obsidian shards. Each one radiated faint ripples, a low thrum resonating in his chest. They looked like smoothed river stones, yet radiated a chilling cold. One, in particular, sat on her desk, radiating a faint, amethyst sheen. It was the same shade as the faint glow that sometimes surrounded Nereo. Tullio reached for it, a sudden clarity blooming in his mind. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing for a sick boy, Tullio Vencenza.” The voice was silken, dripping with false sympathy. Cosima stood in the doorway, her saintly smile fixed, but her eyes, usually serene, held a predatory gleam. She held a slender, ceremonial dagger, its blade a polished, obsidian black. “Did you truly believe my generosity was without expectation?” Tullio staggered back, knocking over a stack of ancient texts. Air caught in his throat, rattling thin against his ribs. “These… these aren’t holy. They’re… void cores.” The words were a whisper, but they resonated with terrible understanding. He recognized the specific energy signature, the sickening pull he felt when Nereo was near. This was the source of his illness. This was what she used to poison the nobles, to ‘cure’ them with a slow, agonizing demise. Cosima’s smile widened, devoid of warmth. “Astute. And inconvenient. A pity. You were meant to be a simple, tragic death, a catalyst for your sister’s despair. Now, you’re just… evidence.” She raised the dagger, the pearlescent light glinting off its dark edge. “No matter. One less Vencenza to muddy the waters.” Just as the blade began its arc, the heavy oak door to the study burst inwards with a crash. A cloud of thick, acrid smoke billowed into the room, stinging Cosima’s eyes. Ovidia, a smear of soot on her cheek, stood in the doorway, clutching a smouldering, improvised smoke bomb crafted from burnt sugar and powdered salts. “Cosima, darling! Fancy meeting you here!” “You!” Cosima coughed, her hand instinctively flying to her face. The holy light that usually surrounded her wavered, momentarily flickering. “You insolent cur! What is this foulness?!” Ovidia ignored her, eyes scanning the room, her gaze snagging on the obsidian shard on the desk. The violet sheen. The specific, almost humming vibration. It wasn't just *a* void core. It was *the* void core. The same resonant energy signature, amplified, warped. Her heart twisted. “This… this is what you experimented with, isn’t it?” Her voice was low, devoid of its usual cheerful lilt. “This is what you put into *him*.” The pieces clicked into place with a sickening thud. The *Guide Book* warning, the corrupted hearts, Nereo’s past, his violent obsession. It all began here, with this twisted fake saintess and her vile experiments. Cosima, still rubbing at her eyes, bared her teeth. “A minor… *project* from my youth. He was a perfect subject. So pliable, so… empty.” Her eyes narrowed, refocusing through the dissipating smoke. “But you, Ovidia, you’ve ruined everything. The Collapse… my plans were so nearly complete! I won’t let you interfere further.” With a furious snarl, Cosima slammed her palm onto the ornate desk. A guttural chant ripped from her throat, the pearlescent light in the room flaring violently. Arcane sigils erupted from the floorboards, forming a glowing, intricate cage around the siblings. The air crackled, pressing in on them. Ovidia grabbed Tullio, pulling him close as the sigils flared with an aggressive, purple sheen. The Guide Book, for the first time, did not ding. It screamed. [WARNING: High-Level Quarantine Ward Activated! Abyssal Contamination Imminent!] [WARD STATUS: Critical. Initiating Self-Destruct Sequence!] The luminous cage vibrated violently, the sigils within it spinning faster and faster. A sickly, black aura began to seep from the lines, gathering at the top. The entire room began to thrum, a deep, ominous vibration that shook the very foundations of the Collegium. Ovidia looked at the ceiling of their incandescent prison. The coalescing black energy was forming a sphere, shrinking, compacting, like a malignant star. It was an Abyssal bomb, ticking down to oblivion.

The Saintess's Secret