Chapter 20: Chapter 20, Those Who Wish to Ascend Must First Descend

Torren and Kestrel led them through the winding paths of the city, deeper into its heart. The streets grew older, more worn, the air heavier, charged with something neither magic nor technology, but something... in between.

They finally stopped before a grand building, one that stood sturdier than the rest, constructed from massive slabs of stone and metal, adorned with intricate carvings and strange iconography.

It was clearly a church.

But not like any Ciel had ever seen.

Large statues flanked the entrance, cloaked figures with hoods obscuring their faces, each holding a thin, glowing rod, one red and one blue, some kind of sacred weapon, perhaps? The walls were painted with murals depicting battles between warriors clad in long robes and armored soldiers with sleek, metallic helmets. Strange beasts loomed in the background, massive structures rising into the sky, too smooth and symmetrical to be natural.

Above the grand archway leading into the church, three words were carved deep into the stone.

THE FORCE BINDS.

Ciel narrowed her eyes. “Oh, what the fuck.”

Raze exhaled, clearly unimpressed. “Let me guess. The Church of the Binders?”

Kestrel looked at him sharply. “The Church of the Eternal Bind.”

Ciel had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

Miri, on the other hand, giggled under her breath, hands clasped together as if in reverence. “Oh, how poetic.”

They were ushered inside before they could make further sarcastic commentary.

The interior was even grander than the outside, lined with long, flowing banners, the same hooded figures depicted in stained glass. The colors of the murals shifted under dim candlelight, the flickering flames making the images seem almost alive.

People stood along the pews, robed figures in deep red and gold, their faces solemn, their hands clasped before them. At the far end of the grand chamber, before a raised altar, stood a single figure.

A man, tall and frail-looking, with wispy silver hair and piercing amber eyes. His robes were ornate, lined with filigree, the crest of two outstretched hands woven into the fabric.

Torren lowered his head slightly, a sign of respect. “Grand Binder Solas, they have come from above.”

The old man studied them for a long moment. Then he spoke, and his voice was far stronger than his appearance suggested.

“You’ve come far.” His gaze flicked over them, eyes sharp, assessing. “And yet, you are still in the beginning of your journey.”

Ciel crossed her arms. “That’s real nice and vague, old man, but we’re more interested in where the hell we are. And how to leave.”

Solas smiled, but it was the kind of smile that held no real warmth, only patience.

“We have used the Skywhales to scour the ceiling, to search for any break, any way to return above. There is none. There has never been.”

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The words settled over them like cold iron.

Ciel clenched her jaw. “That’s not possible. We fell through a hole.”

“You fell through a path.” Solas corrected, tilting his head. “A path that only opens one way. This is the Land Between. There is no return to Lost Angeles. You must either stay... or go deeper.”

Veyra frowned. “And I assume going deeper is a shit idea.”

“Only one has ever come back from below,” Torren said, his tone unreadable.

The room grew silent.

Ciel’s fingers twitched. “One? Out of how many?”

Solas sighed. “Countless.”

A pause.

Then, Sylva asked, her voice careful, "What did he say?"

Solas’s expression darkened.

“That dying to reach the next city was worth it more than staying here.”

A heavy stillness filled the chamber.

Ciel exhaled slowly, looking at her team.

They weren’t sure if that was a warning.

Or a promise.

But then, Solas continued.

“He spoke of something strange. Something that did not belong in a world below.” He turned his gaze back to them, his amber eyes unreadable.

“He spoke of a sky.”

The words sent a ripple through the group.

A sky.

A city with a sky.

Solas watched them carefully, reading their expressions as if weighing their souls against the words he spoke. His amber eyes were sharp, seeing beyond the flesh, beyond the here and now. Then, slowly, he continued.

“The man who returned… he spoke of something more. He did not describe a realm of darkness and suffering, nor a place even more lost than this. He described a world. A true world. One better than the one we have here.”

Ciel swallowed, feeling the tension in the room shift. She looked around at her team. They had fought so hard just to get here, and now they were being told that this place was just another step in the path. Another cage.

“He said it was different,” Solas went on, his voice measured, like a sermon being given to new disciples. “He said it was not just another cavern, not just another labyrinth of dead ends. He saw the sky.”

The murmurs in the church grew, hushed voices echoing from the pews, from the shadows, from the faithful who had long accepted their fate but now stirred with something unfamiliar, hope.

Torren spoke next, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “He said it was possible to get there. But the path is perilous. Treacherous. He went with a party the first time.” He hesitated, then added, “Only half of them made it.”

Sylva exhaled softly through her nose, her crimson gaze flicking toward Ciel. She didn’t need to say anything for Ciel to understand what she was thinking. This wasn’t a warning. It was a test.

Solas inclined his head, the candlelight flickering across his lined face. “Some say the world below is the final trial. That only those worthy, those strong enough, will reach it. The Bind teaches us that all things are connected, all things are drawn to their destined place. But not all have the strength to claim what waits beyond.”

There it was. The faith. The dogma. The idea that this was more than just survival, it was a purpose.

Solas’s voice lowered, reverent now. “Those who wish to ascend must first descend. The path is before you. But it is not one to be taken lightly.”

Ciel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it wasn’t. It never fucking was.

Raze rubbed his temple, clearly exhausted. “I’m guessing you don’t have an elevator that just takes us there?”

Solas smiled, faintly amused. “We have only what was given to us.”

Ciel sighed, shaking the water from her hair. She already knew where this was going.

“The people here,” Veyra spoke suddenly, glancing toward the gathered onlookers, the ones who had slowly relaxed their stances but still listened intently. “Why haven’t they tried?”

“They will.” Torren’s answer was quick. Heavy. Final. “Many have. Most never returned.”

Ciel pressed her tongue against her teeth, thinking. “And the ones who don’t try?”

“They accept the Bind,” Solas said simply. “They remain here, as was meant to be. There is no shame in it. Only truth.”

Ciel wasn’t sure if it was resignation or delusion.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, Solas’s expression softened just slightly. “You have traveled far, and you will need strength for what lies ahead. The Church of the Eternal Bind offers you shelter, for as long as you need. Rest. Gather your resolve. And when you are ready, we will show you the way.”

The words should have been comforting.

They weren’t.

Because it sounded less like an invitation.

And more like a challenge.