Chapter LXVIII: The Crusaders
A glow pulses from the heart of the chapel. The air trembles. It's not just any light—it's divine, radiant, and alive.
From the ground level of the building, some altar servers who are sweeping the hallway near the entrance look up in awe. One of them squints through the high glass window.
"What is that?" a boy whispers, nudging his friend. The golden glow gleams through the old stained glass, forming colored beams that scatter across the floor below. "It's coming from the old chapel... but no one's supposed to be there, right?"
Back inside the chapel, Liz now stands upright, the flaming century sword beside her, the glowing aura around her pulsing like a heartbeat of heaven. Her breath is calm, her hands steady, her eyes fixed not in fear—but in purpose.
