Chapter Text
The interior of the cathedral was just as grand as Henry had expected; imposing, expansive and ostentatious. There were candles lighting the way, with wax pooled about the base and floor, and there were statues lining the stairway up into the great arches of the nave. Statues that looked like the top half of half-rotted corpses holding swords above their heads, ready to drop them at a moment’s notice.
It certainly wasn’t like any cathedral the hunter remembered visiting before, and he was sure he had visited this one in the past. From memory, there had once been effigies of saints in the alcoves, memorials to priests, bishops and cardinals, but they had been replaced by these abominations.
Boris followed him, his boots tapping their steps on the cold marble, while Bendy walked at his side, still unwilling to put much distance between himself and his once lost friend. Henry could hardly blame him; he was sure he would be doing the same, were their situations reversed.
“Let us pray. Let us wish to partake in communion.”
The words were whispered, but it echoed through the cold halls, soft and familiar. Bendy growled, but was quickly hushed by Boris with a touch to his shoulder. Henry could hardly blame him, wanting to do much the same thing himself, instead curling his fingers into fists at his side.
“Let us partake in communion… and feast upon the old blood and the new.”
What?
They reached the top of the stairs and paused. All the pews that had once lined the nave were gone, leaving only the great expanse of the cathedral open and undecorated. The altar still stood at the far end, but it was the only thing left from before. It was only now, years after he’d last attended a service here, that he realised that it had not been the Holy Mother standing above, but something else entirely.
Looking back at those statues standing guard, he noticed they were as old as the one before them. They had always been there. So how was it he remembered something different? Was it the passing of time changing his memories? Had it been ignorance of youth? Or had it been something more nefarious?
“Seek the old blood and the new.”
He could see a familiar figure draped in black knelt before the altar, the candlelight soft and warm, making the shadows appear all the more dark and foreboding.
“Alice?” the Hunter called, but the priestess ignored him.
"But beware the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young."
Boris froze with a short gasp, his already pale complexion blanching further. “What… What is that?”
It took a moment for Henry to see what the werewolf was talking about, but when he saw the skull sitting upon the altar he felt bile rising in his throat. It was larger than a human’s, and somewhat deformed, a hole where one of the sockets should have been and black hair still clinging to it. It looked like someone had been trapped between man and beast when they had been killed, and their head had been used here for worship ever since.
Had it always been here?
"The foul beasts will dangle nectar and lure the meek into the depths."
Alice reached for the skull, as though pleading for something, a blessing perhaps, or a curse as the words she was speaking seemed to imply.
"Remain wary of the frailty of men..."
Her words faded away as her hand fell, coming to her chest as she turned her head to the side.
“It’s rude to disturb a woman when she’s praying,” she said, slowly rising to her feet. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect something like courtesy from you.” She folded her hands in front of her as she grimaced at them. “And I see the dog has returned as well.”
Boris had to hold Bendy back from pouncing on the woman, and Henry was glad the werewolf did, because he wasn’t sure if he would have done the same.
“ You bitch! ” the little ink demon screeched, his form already stretching into something more animalistic and dangerous. “ I’ll kill you! ”
“I’d like to see you try, abomination.”
And then she laughed. It was a deep laugh, one edged with superiority, and Henry gripped his axe as the superiority morphed into agony. The priestess stumbled, doubling over with a scream, and her form stretched unnaturally until the sound of tearing ripped through the air. Blood showered across the alter behind her, but Henry could only stare as her face extended, teeth sharpening, and the halo that had appeared embedded in her skull twisted into horns.
It was horrifying, and worse still was the now mutated chuckle that emerged from the creature’s maw before it howled. This was planned, Henry registered. This had been Alice’s plan all along.
She looked almost like the creature he’d fought on that first bridge, but also like the robed beasts in Djura’s domain, the long curtains of hair appearing like robes, though still dark and dripping in some places. There were still patches of fabric as well, though they were more like bandages now than clothes, and they waved about as Alice dropped down onto all fours.
Her eyes were still covered by the wrap that had been there before, but Henry knew that, if he could have seen them, there would have been a bloodthirsty intelligence within their depths.
Suddenly, a loud sound came from behind them, and Henry spun just in time to see the white robes figures from outside swing the doors shut with a resounding ‘thud’, trapping them in with this new nightmare.