The Immortal Calamity

The dying light of evening painted the sky in golden light but cast the city into shadows. Only a few people walked the deserted streets with hastened steps. An eerie silence wrapped the building in its soft embrace. No babies cried. No children laughed. No people talked.

Footsteps echoed against the stone. My family and the fifty former servants marched through the streets quick as we could. Nobody wanted to be caught at the scene of a burning mansion. Luckily, there was nobody on the streets to witness our escape.

Eventually, we came to a stop in front of an ornate building almost identical to the one in our village, though much bigger. Images of a great battle carved into the pillars on either side of the door. The Church of the Myriad Realms.

The door to the church opened. An extremely elderly man, dressed in official blue robes, stood at the entrance. His sunken eyes looked at the crowd expectantly.

My mother stepped forward and presented the man with a small white token. “We are asking for sanctuary.”

The priest gazed at the token for a moment, then lingered on the crowd of people. He handed the token back to my mother and stepped to the side. “Remember the church is neutral in all things outside of the Eternal War. If someone comes looking for you, we will not stop them.”

“I understand,” replied my mother, before ushering all of us into the building.

Inside, I immediately looked up. The ceiling was painted black, decorated with thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, of glittering tiny stars. More than three-quarters of the stars glowed with a strong red light. Many of the remaining stars glowed with orange or yellow light. Only a few glowed blue.

Only after a long time was I able to tear my eyes away from the stars. Other than the ceiling, the inside of the church was surprisingly bland. The cold stone room was lit only by the glowing stars overhead. There were no ornate decorations or statues. Hundreds of cushioned pews faced a single direction. That was where the only color existed inside the church. Lit up brighter than anywhere else. Thirteen detailed paintings lined the wall.

I walked past the church pews and up to the paintings. Each painting showed something different. The first painting showed seven crowns floating over a majestic city. The fifth painting had an angelic figure with a blurred face, standing in front of a mighty cathedral. The sixth painting was an endless horde of mechanical creatures. The eighth painting had two women standing on either side of a scale. Finally, the thirteenth painting…

On the thirteenth painting were five people among a mountain of corpses. The center was a man with pitch-black eyes, casually sitting on one of the corpses. To his left was a petite woman, holding a thin blade. To his right, a giant of a man with bright red hair. Next to him was a child with a maniacal grin. On the far left was a woman, she was beautiful in a dangerous way. She stared out of the painting with pale green eyes.

“Do you know what these paintings represent?” asked an elderly voice. I turned to see the priest behind me, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at each of the paintings with a smile. “These paintings represent the thirteen divisions that fight the Endless War. Demons invade the Myriad Realms bringing death and corruption with them. Countless billions have lost their lives to them. Those who stand against them banded together. For more than a thousand years the war has waged on.”

The priest turned to look up at the star in the ceiling. “You see that star at the center of the room, the orange one? That is us, our little realm. So many stars, but so few of them safe.” The priest turned back to me with a smile. “Our church does not exist so that you will worship the Thirteen Divisions. We exist to help them. Every donation given to our church are supplies sent to those fighting the Endless War.

“Supplies sent to the fourth division’s coffers you mean,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

The priest froze. “That is not information you should know. Who are you?”

I stood in front of the thirteenth painting with a wicked smile. Small green flames burned in each of my eyes. The priest’s body shook. He took an unsteady step backwards. “W- Welcome back, your highness. It has been a long time. Congratulations on your… revival.”

“Relax, it’s not like I am going to eat you,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “The fourth division and I have an agreement. I will not harm you nor interfere with the church’s work inside my territory.”

The priest relaxed his tense muscles but still stood back. He watched me carefully as if afraid I would suddenly change my mind and attack him without reason.

“I told you who I am because I want information. If you share who I am with anyone… well I don’t need to tell you how the Five Calamities handle things.”

“Yes! of course! Even if I am tortured, I will never tell a soul.”

“Now, first I want you to tell me what has happened to the city. I just arrived, but it’s not hard to see that the people are scared.”

The priest looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Demonkin have appeared inside the city walls. Hundreds have been killed. The king himself moved to stop them, otherwise, the casualties would have been much higher.”

“Inside the walls? Did the king find where they came from?” I asked.

“No. That is why everyone is so scared. Until the rift is found, there could be another attack at any moment.”

I look over to Sylvie, sitting comfortably on my shoulder. She chirped a few times in protest, hopping around angrily. Finally, after a glare from me, she gave a low whistle. Her eyes turned green. She jumped from my shoulder and took flight. She disappeared through a small opening in the church rafters and was outside. Through her, I would be able to see the entire city.

“Next question,” I said, turning back to the priest, “The ninth division techniques the army uses. Do you know anything about it?”

“Unfortunately, not,” He replied, "The church has a policy of not using spies or informants when we are in other people’s territory. All I know is that the king shared the information on how to use glyphs forty years ago. It is somewhat troubling that someone from another division came here without reporting it. However, the church is neutral. We will not get involved.”

"Wren, leave the priest alone," My mother said, walking over from the other side of the church, "We have an early morning ahead of us. You should get some sleep while you can."

I nodded, taking a blanket from a pile the church provided. Each of us took a pew to be our bed for the night. As others snored, I watched the glowing stars overhead. I counted each and every one of them.