They came upon the chapel just after dusk.
It wasn't marked on any map. The trail that led to it was nearly overgrown, eaten by creeping vines and warped roots. The trees around it bent unnaturally, as if recoiling from the structure at its center. The air was wrong—heavy with silence, like a held breath waiting to be released.
Pedro Pao stepped through the threshold of the ruins, the dried weeds crunching beneath his boots. Sister Mara followed, one hand resting on the shaft of her spear, eyes alert.
"What is this place?" she whispered.
Pedro's eyes swept across the stones. The building had once been a chapel. You could still see the structure—arches now collapsed, walls leaning inward, and a dome with a gaping hole where something holy once hung. The altar was little more than a cracked pedestal.
And at the center stood a statue.
A woman in priestly robes. One hand outstretched in benediction. The other gripped the remnants of a shattered spear. Her face, like her name, had been erased.
"A church without a saint?" Mara asked.
Pedro shook his head. "No. A saint erased from memory."
[LORE FRAGMENT: The Saint of Echoes]
Her name was once spoken in every holy hall.
Her miracles were sung in places even the angels had abandoned.
But during the Fall, she disobeyed Heaven.
She took the dying with her. Hid them in forbidden sanctuaries.
The One Church declared her stricken—a term worse than exile.
Her name was pulled from all books, her likeness scraped from walls.
But memory… memory has cracks.
Pedro knelt and placed a glowing sigil at the base of the statue. A faint pulse emanated from it, and the surrounding air began to shift. The silence deepened. The dust rose and twisted.
The statue's eyes glowed faintly.
"Pedro…" Mara said, stepping back, raising her spear.
"It's okay. I didn't summon anything. She's already awake."
From behind the altar, a presence stirred.
A woman stepped forward, barefoot on cracked stone. Her robes were ancient, yellowed, and tattered. Veiled in silver-threaded lace, her face was hidden, but a strange light pulsed from within her.
Chains—delicate ones of prayer beads and silver thread—wrapped around her arms and trailed behind her like flowing ribbons.
"Who calls the name of one erased?" her voice echoed, soft and hollow.
Pedro rose slowly, watching her.
"I didn't call your name. I don't even know it. But I need your help."
The veiled woman tilted her head. "Then why do you wear the law?"
Pedro tapped his belt where dozens of small seals and tokens jingled faintly.
"Because it's the only thing left that hasn't betrayed me."
The Saint watched him in silence. Behind her, the altar began to hum with power.
"What is it you seek, exorcist?"
Pedro hesitated, then held up the fractured mirror shard from the last vault.
"Zairan's trail. One of the Heralds of Envy. We destroyed a memory vault and retrieved this echo. It points here."
The Saint turned toward the altar. "This place is one of the few sanctuaries that predate the Church. I sealed it with law and blood. But if you carry a piece of him…"
The air grew cold.
The sky above dimmed further, and a ripple moved across the veil of twilight.
"…then he already knows."
The ground trembled.
Mara moved to Pedro's side. "He's here?"
Pedro shook his head. "Not him. Something he sent."
A wail pierced the air.
From the tree line came something impossible—a twisted figure of flesh and metal, glass and smoke. Its form shifted as it moved, faces flickering across its surface—none its own.
A Memory-Warped Echo. A protector of stolen knowledge. A guardian of guilt.
Pedro cursed. "He bound a remnant here. Smart bastard."
"How do we fight it?" Mara asked, already in stance.
Pedro's hands were already moving—drawing sigils, wrapping his knuckles in saltthread.
"We don't fight what it is. We fight what it thinks it remembers."
The Echo charged.
Mara intercepted, her spear gleaming with divine runes. She struck true—right through its chest. But the creature split in two and reformed on either side of her. Faces whispered across its surface.
"You failed her."
"You let your brothers die."
"You watched and prayed while the world burned."
Mara froze, her grip trembling.
Pedro shouted: "Don't listen! It's not your memory—it's stolen!"
He threw a flask at its feet. It shattered, releasing a burst of blue flame. The Echo shrieked, recoiling. Pedro rolled under its arm and slammed a seal onto its back.
Law of Unbinding: Pulse Glyph.
A shockwave erupted. The creature staggered, parts of its form peeling off like burning skin.
Pedro pulled out the cracked seal of his father—his final relic.
He whispered the word again.
"Return."
The glyphs lit. The Echo convulsed.
And in a single, heart-wrenching moment… it cried.
Not as a monster. But as a child.
Then it dissolved into smoke, scattering in all directions.
Silence.
The Saint approached, her veiled face now shimmering with soft silver light.
"You severed its false identity. Returned it to what it was."
Pedro was shaking slightly. Not from fear. From exhaustion.
"It remembered just enough to die free."
The Saint extended her chained hand.
"Then you are ready for this."
She moved to the altar and pulled a stone tablet from beneath it—sealed in black wax and silver glyphs.
Pedro took it gently.
Mara peered over his shoulder.
"What is it?"
Pedro stared at the glyphs.
"A forgotten command."
He held up the shard and the tablet. When combined, they began to glow—the glyphs aligning with the mirror's edge.
Images flickered.
A fortress of mirrors. A lake with no reflection. A city buried beneath a screaming sun.
And a name.
Censored.
Unspoken.
But written in ancient law.
Pedro snapped the tablet shut.
"We have the next location. A cult is gathering near the old reflection lake. And they're not just worshiping."
Mara's voice was low. "They're summoning."
As they prepared to leave, Pedro turned to the Saint.
"Why did Heaven forget you?"
The Saint paused, then said:
"Because I remembered the names they swore to erase."
Pedro understood.
He bowed—not in faith, but in respect.
And as they left the chapel, the statue of the forgotten saint shifted ever so slightly.
Its face, once erased, now bore a faint smile.