When he heard the news, Cedric’s world collapsed.
He had begged them to choose another girl. He promised he would find ten other girls, pure in both body and mind, to give to the society in her place.
The Priest, however, only questioned his faith.
As a believer, anything could be offered to the god. What was a mere child? Many religions held the doctrine of sacrificing one’s own child to please the divine; was that not the most basic requirement? You’re acting quite strange, little brother, the Priest had told him.
Left with no choice, Cedric played along while looking for an opportunity to flee with his wife and child.
He wanted to escape the Perpetual Night and flee to the sun-drenched lands—a place without darkness, monsters, or evil gods. A new life was waiting for him.
Leaving the Lead-Grey zone of the Perpetual Night was no easy feat, but he possessed a “lantern.”
Though it wasn’t the kind of “Lantern” held by a true Lantern-Bearer—imbued with transcendent power to repel all darkness—it was sufficient to ward off pollution and deter lesser evils.
The octagonal lantern hung from a corner of the carriage, emitting a turquoise glow that flowed like water. It spiraled out into the darkness like a deep-sea vortex, illuminating the path for nearly thirty meters.
Helen sat in the back of the carriage, huddled against her mother, unaware of the true gravity of the situation. Even if she were told the truth, a six-year-old’s mind could hardly grasp the madness and malice of the cultists.
To her, the world was a beautiful but cruel place where ninety percent of everything was filled with danger and the unknown. Her frail body and limited understanding were insufficient for self-protection; her only anchors were her parents.
As long as they were by her side, she felt safe. She knew they would take care of her. She also knew they were troubled by something. Being a sensible child, she remained silent, acting obedient and docile so as not to cause them any further trouble.
Helen was a true little beauty, with delicate features, thin lips, and elegantly shaped eyes. Her gaze sparkled with a natural, intellectual light, hinting at a future as a girl who would love the sciences.
Her permed twin-tails rested fluffily against her collar. Her nightgown covered her knees, and her two porcelain-white legs dangled beneath the hem, swinging back and forth with the jolting of the carriage.
The carriage sped along the forest path, crushing withered branches and fallen leaves. The continuous snapping sounds were jarring in the oppressive silence.
Cedric, whipping the horses to go faster, suddenly realized something. He snapped his head back toward the rear seat.
His wife’s beautiful almond-shaped eyes shimmered in the lantern light. But the reflection in her pupils wasn’t his face—it was a countenance of utter horror!
The skin had been entirely peeled away, leaving dark red flesh and pale ligaments stretched over bone. The frontal bone had been removed along the coronal suture, exposing the greyish, slick convolutions of the frontal lobe.
Everything from the jaw up had been excised and replaced with a crystal mask. Through the exquisite crystal, the eyeballs, tongue, frontal lobe, Eustachian tubes, and trachea were all clearly visible!
It was as if an entire face had been sliced off to display the internal structures of the skull, like a medical model!
Cedric’s teeth chattered violently. His pupils lost their shape in his terror, and a few trembling words squeezed out of his throat.
“The Faceless Priest…”
The terrifying fanatic was looking back at him. The eerie face reflected in the woman’s eyes possessed a strange sense of perspective, as if it were observing the scene outside through a peephole.
The eyes were the windows to the soul, but they were also a smooth, curved surface. Biheze’s power connected through the void to this very spot, spying on the carriage’s interior.
The Faceless Priest made a throat-slitting gesture toward the man and spoke silently:
“Apostate, you are dead.”
Cedric let out an inhuman whimper, sounding like a dog being beaten—pitiable and full of suffering.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” his wife asked anxiously.
The reins fell from Cedric’s hands. He clutched his head and wailed in broken sobs. His cognition seemed to regress to childhood; he let out the high-pitched cries of a toddler, utterly mismatched with his age.
The two horses continued to run by habit, but before long, they reared up as if encountering something terrifying, neighing in a panic!
Cedric jerked forward, nearly tumbling out of the carriage. He slumped to the floorboards, sweat pouring down his frozen face like melting wax. He was a pathetic mess.
“Cedric… darling?” His wife grew even more panicked, her voice laced with tears.
“We’re dead… they’re watching… AHHHHH!”
Cedric sprang up like a galvanized frog, tearing at his hair. Clumps of greyish hair fell away, scattering onto the floor.
Fear had completely shattered his mind. His head wobbled and shook like a jack-in-the-box, and a manic, giggling cackle escaped his lips as he descended into madness.
