Chapter 66: The Baptism of the Accursed
The air inside the hidden sanctuary was thick with a scent that didn't belong to the world above—a mixture of rotting lilies and cold iron. Hana remained on her knees, the cold stone floor biting into her skin, but she didn't feel the chill. Her focus was entirely on the high priestess, the girl who stood before the inverted idol with a terrifying, hollow smile.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic pulsing of the purple smoke that drifted from the base of the upside-down statue. The priestess extended her hand, her fingers long and unnaturally pale. Without a word, Hana reached into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against the cold, hard edges of five golden coins—the last of the money Ren had struggled so hard to save, the money he thought would buy them a future. She pulled them out and placed them in the priestess's open palm.
The priestess snatched the coins, her eyes glinting with a dark greed. She didn't put them away; instead, she closed her fist around them and began to hum a low, guttural melody. As she hummed, a thick, swirling purple mist began to leak from between her fingers, devouring the gold. When she opened her hand again, the coins were gone, replaced by a small, obsidian vial containing a liquid that glowed with a sickly violet light.
"Drink," the priestess commanded, her voice echoing as if it were coming from the walls themselves.
Hana didn't hesitate. She sat back on her heels, tilting her head back as the priestess forced the girl's mouth open. The liquid felt like liquid fire as it slid down Hana's throat, burning its way into her very soul. She gasped, her body convulsing as the potion took hold. When she finally opened her eyes, they were no longer the brown eyes Ren loved. They were a vivid, electric purple, and deep within the iris, a black, five-pointed star had etched itself like a permanent brand.
Hana stood up, her movements jerky and mechanical. She felt a surge of cold energy coursing through her veins, numbing her fear and replacing it with a singular, dark purpose. She walked toward the center of the hall, where the inverted statue hung. On either side of the twisted idol were two smaller statues of angels—their wings were tattered, their faces carved into expressions of eternal agony. Each angel held a heavy stone tablet, inscribed with the ancient laws of the cult.
Hana's new eyes scanned the text, the words burning themselves into her mind:
PROVE YOUR LOYALTY TO THE GOD OF CURSE. WORSHIP THE DARKNESS. BE READY TO SACRIFICE EVERYTHING—MOTHER, FATHER, BROTHER, SISTER, OR LOVER. IF ANYONE SPEAKS AGAINST THE GOD, GIVE THEM ONE WARNING. THE SECOND TIME, THEY MUST DIE. PRAY FOR THREE HOURS DAILY. TRUST NO ONE WHO FOLLOWS THE LIGHT.
A terrifying resolve hardened in Hana's heart. She looked at the center of the altar, where a jagged, silver dagger lay. It was stained with the dried blood of those who had come before her. Hana reached out, her fingers closing around the hilt. Without a single tremor of fear, she raised the blade to her own throat.
With a swift, violent motion, she drew the blade across her neck.
But instead of crimson blood, a brilliant purple glow erupted from the wound. The skin didn't tear; it opened like a gateway, absorbing the dagger's essence. The blade vanished from her hand, reappearing instantly on its pedestal as if it had never been moved. The wound on Hana's neck remained open for a moment, glowing with an intense violet light before slowly sealing itself, leaving behind a faint, jagged scar that throbbed with power.
Hana's head snapped back, her mouth falling open. A thick, opaque purple smoke began to pour from her mouth and eyes, rising toward the ceiling to join the clouds around the inverted god. The priestess watched, her smile widening until it reached her ears.
"You are accepted," the priestess whispered.
Suddenly, a weight settled around Hana's neck. A chain of black iron had manifested out of the smoke, and at its center hung a diamond-shaped jewel, dark and shimmering with an unholy purple light. The moment the necklace touched her skin, Hana felt her own will slipping away, replaced by the crushing presence of the deity she now served.
Hana's head slumped forward. The fierce, defiant girl was gone. Following the lead of the others in the room, she dropped to her knees once more. Her hands folded in a mock gesture of peace, and she began to pray—not for her brother's safety, but for the strength to destroy anyone who stood in the way of her new master. Even if that person shared her own blood.
Back on the surface, the sun was still shining, and Ren was still walking toward the Academy, completely unaware that the sister he was trying to save was currently swearing an oath to end his life. The diamond on Hana's chest pulsed like a second heart, a ticking clock marking the beginning of the end for the Vority siblings.