The Collapsed Citadel, Nefelden, Nefelden Mountain Range, Kingdom of Alkhana
Black mists softly sifted across the Collapsed Citadel’s interior, seemingly stuck to the old, ruined stone in the same manner that the morning fog stuck to the trees on the mountains. An unsettling sense of foreboding filled the air within the temple, and the faint stench of sulfur hung on the air, a sinister energy filling the abandoned place of worship.

A cloaked man knelt in front of the altar, staring up at the damaged depictions of the Eight Rhemnans- the gods- with a curious expression, almost like reverence. However, his eyes- they burned with a hate so deep, it was a wonder the statues didn’t simply crumble apart, or burst into flames.

A group of robed figures entered the chamber of the Collapsed Citadel, carrying with them a man bound in chains. Their prisoner- an elderly fellow with graying hair and a pale, weathered complexion- was marred by numerous bruised and cuts that damaged his otherwise kindly appearance. Entering into the place, a faint cloak of black mists began to swirl around him, slightly cloaking his body and sifting in a similar fashion as the black mists that clung to the walls.

The cloaked man kneeling in front of the altar stood, turning to face the new comers, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He looked at each of the robed figures in turn, before settling his hate-filled gaze at the old man they had brought. His eyes softened. The robed figures knelt, forcing the injured prisoner to his knees as their apparent leader stood above them.

“Master Jhede,” the frontmost figure said. “We have brought the book-keeper, as you requested, Nomahkla’s Chosen.”

The cloaked man, Jhede, gave a slight dip of his head. “Very well, my brothers. You have served our Lady well. Go and join your other brothers and sisters, for my audience with this man is one that our Lady demands remains private.”

Standing, the robed men bowed, turning and leaving through an opening in the old, ruined church’s side. They left the book-keeper on the floor.

Jhede stared at the motionless figure, seeming to contemplate something. After a moment, he gestured towards the old man, and uttered a soft word, a snakelike hiss escaping from his mouth.

“Ekwa.”

The black mists that cloaked the book-keeper seemed to detach, as if a burst of wind had emanated from the old man’s body. After a moment, they faded completely, and with a pained moan, the book-keeper stirred.

“Niacha, ibinda ot eth olfora,” the cloaked figure spoke. The chains that lay limp at the book-keep’s sides seemed to burrow themselves into the floor, allowing enough room for the old man to kneel, but not much else.

“W-who are you?” the book-keeper trembled, his voice filled with pain and fear. “Why am I here?”
The cloaked man’s face broke into a sad smile. “Alubard, my old friend. I’m afraid we are already aqquainted. Do you not remember me?”

The book-keeper’s eyes filled with surprise as he recognized the cloaked man’s voice. “N-no… Jhede, is that you? But… I thought you died… how could you still?”

He struggled against his bindings.

“Ha, you thought correctly. Your foolish determination to learn all you could killed me. My heart was pierced by the old temple’s traps, my soul rent from my body. However…” he trailed off. “My Lady Nomahkla rescued me. Reversing the sands of time, the Archon of Fate restored me to life! And now, I seek to return the favor.”

The cloaked figure stepped away from the altar, kneeling in front of the old man. Grasping the book-keeper’s chin, Jhede forced the book-keeper’s eyes to meet his own.

“W-what is it you seek? You cannot mean, you serve the-” Alubard stuttered. He’d read the Book of Archons- he knew who Nomahkla was. What Nomahkla was.

“Aye, but it is not so bad. All I ask is that you submit ownership of the Book of Archons to me. I know you have it- stored within the book-shop that you have built over the long years. If you shall allow me to take it, I promise you a safe return to your shop, as well as amnesty for you and your son in the times to come,” Jhede said, his voice almost snakelike as it hissed through the ruined church.

“You… you seek to bring them back?” Alubard said, his voice full of astonished anger. “Jhede, do you have any idea of what you’re speaking of?! The Archons are fiends, beings of the darkest sort. Please, ask anything else of me, but even if I wished to do so, I could not grant you the book. It has already been sold.”

The cloaked man was silent for a moment.

“I see,” he said. “Then I apologize, Alubard, for you have given me no choice.”

The cloaked figure stepped back. The horrible sound of a sword being unsheathed rang through the citadel.
“Please, do not hurt me! We were friends, were we not!”

Jhede nodded. “Aye. We were. But my debt to the Great Lady is too deep. If you cannot sell it to me, then I must kill you. You know the book’s rules.”

Alubard howled. With a grim expression, Jhede stabbed the old man, piercing the book-keeper through the heart. The sword in the cloaked man’s hand seemed to hiss with pleasure as Alubard’s blood ran down its edge, but Jhede pulled away.

“No, Ievapr, his soul is not yours to take,” the man said, seemingly to the blade. The book-keeper collapsed, and Jhede looked down at Alubard’s body, a tear making its way down his face. With his free hand, the cloaked man wiped it away.

After Alubard breathed his last breath, Jhede turned. “I am sorry, friend. My loyalties lie with my Lady. Me and my allies- we will see Nomahkla returned. For when the gods abandoned us, She embraced us.”

He walked away, leaving the Collapsed Chapel through the same exit as his underlings. After a pause, he whispered a word, and black mists surrounded Alubard’s body. When they dissolved, there was no trace of the old man. Somewhere else in the city, the book-keeper reappeared- pool of blood and all.

There would be no trace of what the Church had been used for.