The summons arrived, as Henry knew it inevitably would, late the following afternoon. He had just returned to the barracks after a long, tedious patrol through the eastern sector's sprawling merchant quarter, his body weary from the day's exertions but his mind sharp, alert, braced for this moment ever since Archbishop Ralph's warning after the ascension ritual.

He was found stripping off his duty gear by a junior runner from the garrison command post, who then delivered the message curtly: Soldier Henry Strike was to report to the Estath Cathedral immediately for an important discussion with the Archbishop and representatives from Central Command.

"So, this is the day," Henry dismissed the runner. "Understood. I will proceed there directly."

He quickly washed the grime of the city from his face and hands, exchanging his dust-covered patrol uniform for the more formal, clean attire required for audiences at the Cathedral or Command Headquarters.

He took a moment before the small, cracked mirror to steady his breathing and compose his features into a mask of dutiful respect and perhaps just a hint of nervous apprehension appropriate for a Rank 3 soldier summoned unexpectedly by high authorities.

Beneath his tunic, the Sanctuary Seal was a faint, comforting vibration, a secret source of power.. Time to see how well I learned my lessons in deception, he thought, before turning and heading out into the fading afternoon light towards the looming spires of Estath.

Sunlight streamed through the high stained-glass windows of the grand, echoing cathedral hall. It painted the intricate flagstones in shifting patterns of deep blue, ruby red, and gold. The air smelled faintly of old stone, beeswax, and the lingering sweetness of incense. Yet, the atmosphere was far from peaceful. A palpable tension permeated the solemn space.

Five individuals were seated behind a long, heavy oak table draped in dark velvet, positioned strategically before the main altar dais. Archbishop Ralph occupied the central, high-backed chair, his familiar benevolence tempered today by an air of profound gravity.

Flanking him, casting the scene in a more ominous light, were four figures Henry didn't recognize, though two matched descriptions Ralph had subtly provided. All four wore the stark black attire of a serious government service. Their fine-cut civilian clothes were draped with long, formal cloaks, hinting at a clandestine branch. Their presence transformed the sacred space into something resembling a formal court.

An acolyte directed Henry towards a smaller, simpler wooden table and chair situated several meters below the main table, facing the assembled panel. The arrangement was deliberate, isolating.

This wasn't a briefing; it was a tribunal. He was the defendant, not a soldier reporting for duty. Resentment threatened to rise. He took a steadying breath, forcing it down. "Whatever," he thought with an inward shrug, settling carefully into the designated chair, keeping his back straight, hands resting formally on his knees. "Just let this be over soon."

The heavy silence stretched for a long moment, broken only by the distant echo of choir practice from another part of the cathedral. Finally, the man seated at the far-left end of the long table spoke, histone crisp, authoritative, devoid of inflection. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a stern, unyielding countenance, sharp, intelligent eyes, and that severe, close-cropped haircut Henry recognized from Ralph's discreet warning.

"Greetings, Soldier Henry Strike," the man began, fixing Henry with a look so direct and forceful it seemed to pin him in place.

"Allow me to introduce myself and the panel. I am Chief Investigator Ragley, Zephyros Bureau of Investigation, Central Command." He gestured methodically down the table. "Beside me are Senior Investigator Cole, Senior Investigator Dash." Henry noted Cole's unwavering, analytical stare and Dash's quiet, watchful intensity. "You know Archbishop Ralph, of course." Ralph gave him a subtle gesture of reassurance with his head. "And at the far end," Ragley concluded, indicating the only woman present, "is Senior Investigator Brena."

Henry looked towards Brena. She appeared younger than Ragley, perhaps late twenties, with an air of cool, detached professionalism. Her eyes, behind the spectacles, seemed to assess and categorize everything they saw. Her beautiful face remained utterly impassive, betraying no hint of emotion.

Unlike Cole and Dash, who seemed to be reviewing documents laid before them, Brena carried no writing implements, simply listening intently, one hand propping her chin gracefully, the other resting lightly on the table's edge. She was different. Dangerous in a way Henry couldn't immediately quantify.

Archbishop Ralph leaned forward slightly, his kind words cutting through the formal tension. "Henry," he said gently, "I know this is intimidating. But understand, we do not doubt your capabilities or your loyalty to Zephyros. And yet," his voice lost its warmth, replaced by a profound gravity, "this is a mandatory review. It's a procedure for any soldier who exhibits unusual traits. This is for your own safety and well-being, Henry, as well as for the nation's security."

"I understand, Your Eminence," Henry replied, striving to keep his tone steady and respectful. "And I understand this is the required protocol. I am fully prepared to cooperate with this examination in any way necessary to demonstrate my unwavering loyalty."

Ragley finished his note and stared at Henry, his look as sharp and direct as a drawn blade. "Commendable attitude, soldier. Let us begin."

His tone was all business. "We have noted certain anomalous indicators concerning your recent experiences, specifically originating from the mission at Lake Loknezt where you were grievously injured. Could you recount for us, in your own words and in precise detail, exactly what transpired after you were struck by the Dino Serpent's final Aqua Pump attack?"

Henry took a measured breath, accessing the carefully constructed narrative he had prepared, omitting the crucial details about the Lifestream and Will. "Yes, Chief Investigator. The force of the blast was overwhelming. I was slammed against the underwater rock face with extreme violence. I felt bone break, the impact momentarily stunning me. The force of the water column also triggered a rock collapse, sealing the breach I was forced through and separating me from the main lake."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, projecting effortful recall. " My first thought was just survival. My air bubble was gone, and I was drowning. I remember being pulled by a strong current in the dark... maybe I saw some kind of strange light, a bright stream or something, but honestly, sir, I wasn't paying much attention. I just needed to breathe. I followed the current upwards, eventually breaking the surface in a small, hidden body of water, likely a spring-fed pond connected to the subterranean system. I managed to drag myself ashore but I was near total exhaustion from the effort and blood loss. I collapsed there. The next thing I knew, I was being found by the Aerion rescue team." He met the investigator's challenging look without flinching, he remained perfectly still, hoping the explanation sounded plausible, the actions of a desperate, injured soldier focused solely on survival.

Cole interjected sharply from beside Ragley, his sharp questions probing for details. "Is that the entirety of the sequence, Soldier Strike? You experienced nothing else unusual during that period of disorientation? You omitted no details, however strange they might have seemed at the time?"

Henry paused, a carefully calibrated flicker of uncertainty in his posture, a flicker of uncertainty, as if debating whether to share something potentially unbelievable or unsettling. "Well, sir," he began, hesitating for a moment. "There was... something else. While I was in the water, I think the lack of air and the trauma made me hallucinate. I thought I heard a voice."

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"A voice?" Dash leaned forward slightly, his quiet intensity focused entirely on Henry now. "Describe that. What did it say? How did you perceive it? Have you heard it again since that day?" The questions came rapidly, clinically.

Henry frowned, feigning difficulty in recall. "It wasn't human, I don't think. More like resonance? Like something ancient attempting communication. I couldn't see a source clearly, just a vague impression perhaps a white orb of light? It's hazy." He focused on the partial truth. "The words I remember them speaking of the year nine hundred and ninety-nine. Calling it the end of days, an unavoidable Apocalypse. Mentioned great beings descending from beyond something about the world's true history changing forever." He shook his head slightly, looking troubled. "I heard it again, faintly, perhaps just before I surfaced. Just the word 'Apocalypse,' I think. Then nothing since."

He lowered his head, adopting an air of distress, of helplessness. "Honestly, sirs, Your Eminence I dismissed it as delirium. A hallucination brought on by near-drowning. I am merely a low-ranking soldier. Talk of the end of days, great beings what could that possibly have to do with me? My duty is to guard my post, maintain order, perhaps one day care for a family." His voice grew strained, choked with feigned emotion. "That is all I concern myself with."

"A commendable focus," Ragley said smoothly, though his eyes remained sharp, analytical. "Which brings me to this question, soldier: if you believed you experienced such a hallucination why did you not report these specific details to your Captain, or to Archbishop Ralph here, sooner? Especially given the gravity of the pronouncements you claim to have heard?"

Henry looked up, his demeanor carefully crafted to convey earnestness as he met Ragley's questioning look. "Chief Investigator, back then, I wasn't sure if it was real or just a hallucination from nearly drowning. It felt irresponsible to spread panic over what could have been nothing."

He took a breath. "Then, when Archbishop Ralph told me I was under investigation... bringing it up seemed even more dangerous. I was worried it would be twisted, used against me. I decided to wait for a formal setting like this, to report it directly to the proper authorities."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming clear, resolute. "You yourselves, the Bureau, have likely been monitoring my activities closely since the Archbishop filed his report. You are undoubtedly aware that I have mentioned none of Ralphael to anyone prior to this moment. I chose this venue, this formal interrogation before esteemed investigators and the Archbishop, to reveal everything I experienced, however strange. Because I believe it is my duty to bring potentially crucial information, even if perceived in extremis, to the attention of those in high authority who possess the wisdom and resources to properly assess its true significance. That is why I waited." He hoped the calculated mix of honesty, duty, and slight vulnerability sounded convincing.

Archbishop Ralph remained silent,the corners of his kind eyes crinkled with a measure of quiet approval. Ragley turned and conferred briefly in low tones with Brena beside him, her impassive face giving nothing away as she murmured a response only Ragley could hear.

After a moment, Ragley turned back to Henry. "Your reasoning demonstrates commendable forethought, Soldier Strike. Your desire to follow protocol and report sensitive information through proper channels is noted." His tone remained measured, professional. "Nevertheless, given the anomalous nature of your recovery, your confirmed exposure to unusual subterranean energies, and now this report of auditory phenomena, a thorough examination remains necessary. We need to assess both your physical and mental state to ensure there are no lingering detrimental effects or residual external influences. We trust you will continue to cooperate fully."

"As I stated before, Chief Investigator," Henry replied firmly, meeting Ragley's gaze without wavering. "I am fully prepared to assist your investigation in any way required. Consider it a testament to my loyalty and integrity."

"Excellent," Ragley tapped his pen on the note in agreement. "I have always held faith in the fundamental character of Zephyros's soldiers."

Henry hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, adopting an air of slight awkwardness. "Sir, Chief Ragley, there is one small matter. A personal request, if I may?"

Ragley raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in demeanor. He leaned closer across the table. "Speak freely, soldier."

Henry leaned closer and spoke quietly, ensuring only Ragley could hear clearly. "Sir, about the memory examination... I have nothing to hide when it comes to my duties. But... there are some recent personal memories with my companion, Sophia. They're private. If the examiner could... exercise some discretion on that front, I'd be grateful. It's just a matter of privacy, sir."

Ragley's sternness broke as he leaned back, chuckling softly. He leaned back, chuckling softly, a low and understanding sound. He gave Henry a light, conspiratorial pat on the arm. "Hahaha! Understood, soldier. Completely understood. You needn't worry about that. The Bureau, and Brena, certainly adhere to our own strict rules and professional boundaries regarding matters of personal privacy unrelated to security concerns. Consider your image safe."

Relief, genuine and profound, washed over Henry. That had been a gamble, but it seemed to have paid off, adding a layer of mundane, relatable humanity to his profile.

Shortly thereafter, Henry was led by Cole and Dash from the main hall into a smaller, more secluded antechamber. The heavy door closed behind them, muffling the sounds of the cathedral. Inside, the room was sparse: a simple cot against one wall, a single chair, and minimal light. Only Archbishop Ralph, Chief Investigator Ragley, and Brena remained.

"Please, lie down on the cot, Henry," Brena instructed, her tone soft now, almost soothing, entirely different from her earlier silence. He obeyed, stretching out, trying to relax despite the circumstances. Brena's cool, slender fingers pressed gently against his temples as she sat beside him. "Just relax," she murmured again. "This is merely a standard diagnostic procedure to ensure your well-being. Nothing to fear. Rest for a moment. You will feel much better upon waking."

As her fingers rested against his skin, a subtle wave of soporific energy flowed from her touch into Henry, gentle but insistent. His eyelids grew incredibly heavy, the room blurring at the edges. He fought it for a moment, then consciously yielded, allowing the darkness to claim him, trusting in his earlier conversation with Will, trusting that his deepest secrets remained shielded for now. The world faded into silent blackness.

He awoke what felt like moments later to Archbishop Ralph gently shaking his shoulder, a warm smile on the prelate's face. "A brief midday slumber is most beneficial, Henry. Do you feel more refreshed?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. Much more at ease," Henry replied, sitting up, playing along with the facade, a cheerful smile fixed on his face. The underlying tension remained, but the immediate ordeal seemed to be over.

"Everything is concluded," Archbishop Ralph said, patting his shoulder. "Please follow these gentlemen outside. Inform me immediately if anything is amiss."

"Thank you, Your Eminence. Thank you for your fairness," Henry said sincerely, his gaze acknowledging Ragley and Brena in turn before allowing Cole and Dash to escort him out.

Once Henry was gone, Ragley turned to Brena, his professional mask firmly back in place. "Your assessment, Miss Brena? Are you certain he spoke the truth?"

"I employed truth-detection magic calibrated to emotional resonance," Brena replied crisply, adjusting her spectacles. "His statements during the interrogation were factually consistent with his emotional output. It aligns with a chance encounter, trauma-induced visions, and subsequent cautious silence." She paused. "The memory examination confirms this alignment. The complication," her brow furrowed slightly, "there are numerous fragmented sequences. Sections that are indistinct."

"Meaning?" Ragley pressed.

"Meaning, it could be trauma affecting recall," Brena explained. "Or the experience itself was too arcane for his mind to fully process and retain coherently. There is," she hesitated, "another possibility, though highly improbable."

"Which is?" Cole prompted, looking up from his notes.

"That a mage of demigod-level power meticulously sealed specific memories," Brena stated, the hypothesis hanging in the air. "Memory examination and sealing both require direct physical or potent psychic contact. And any sealing below Rank 7 would leave detectable traces, residual energies. His mind is remarkably clean. Either he is innocent, merely suffering memory fragmentation from his ordeal and the strange encounter, or…"

"Or he has an impossibly powerful, unknown ally," Ragley finished.

"We have maintained continuous surveillance," Cole interjected. "No unusual contacts since his return from Loknezt. His activities are entirely routine."

"The sheer volume of potentially terrifying information - the voice, the prophecy - could easily overwhelm a Rank 3 mind, leading to fragmentation," Ragley mused, seeking the more plausible explanation.

"I continue to hold faith in the integrity of this young soldier," Archbishop Ralph stated firmly. "His connection to the Church, his relationship with Sophia these are anchors of stability."

"Speaking of which," Ragley glanced at the Archbishop, a slight smile returning. "His personal request to avoid prying into his romantic recollections. Quite endearing, his embarrassment."

"I adhered to protocol and respected the boundaries of personal privacy, sir." A faint blush touched Brena's cheeks.

"Hah, the intensity of youth," Ragley chuckled. "Even facing interrogation, his thoughts turn to his beloved. An interesting young man. Loyal, intelligent, prudent If he continues developing well, Chief Ragley might find a place for him in the Bureau. Such qualities are valuable."

"It is admirable," Brena murmured, her gaze drifting downwards as she absently rubbed the small, magic-stone crucifix hanging from her neck. "To find such devotion at twenty-two Admirable.".

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