Chapter 7 Beneath The Mask

CHAPTER 7

Beneath the mask

On one of the drives, hidden in encrypted folders, were names. Dozens. Then hundreds.

Members of a group called The Crescent Cult.

Businessmen. Clergy. Judges. Media heads. All funding a dark network tied to the city's worst crimes-trafficking, ritual sacrifices, political assassinations. All united under the symbol: the crescent moon with a tear.

At the top of the financial trail: the Mayor.

But not as a leader-as a puppet.

The cult controlled him. Made him the face of order, while they thrived in chaos. If he disobeyed, they'd expose him-or worse.

Lyra looked at Zion, her expression unreadable. "This is bigger than we thought."

Zion nodded. "We just kicked a nest of snakes."

The truth was no longer just whispers.

Now, it had a name. A face. A godless machine that fed on silence.

And very soon, the whole city would hear it.

THE NEXT DAY:

The night after escaping Vey's estate, Zion sat at the edge of his bed, the hard drive hooked up to his laptop. The files were still decrypting, but the names alone were enough to rattle him. Judges, doctors, influencers. People who smiled on billboards by day-and whispered curses into the shadows by night.

Lyra stood by the window, her face half-lit by the dim streetlamps outside. She hadn't spoken much since the escape. Zion could tell she was holding something back.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked softly. "About the cult. About their hold on the city."

"I couldn't," she said. "Not until I was sure you believed."

Zion nodded. "I believe now."

The laptop pinged-decryption complete.

He opened a folder titled 'Initiates'. Inside were scanned documents, video clips, and transaction logs. Each one more damning than the last. He clicked on a video.

A ritual. Hooded figures in a stone chamber. A man-his face covered-kneeling before a statue carved in obsidian. The crescent moon symbol was etched into the floor in blood.

Then a voice. Familiar.

"...this city was never ours. We are merely caretakers. And the price of peace... is silence."

Zion paused the video. "That was the Mayor."

Lyra nodded. "He was inducted young. Before he understood. Now he's trapped. Owned by them."

"Then we expose him. All of them."

She turned, face cold. "You think exposure will stop them? They want you to try. Because then they'll know who to erase."

Before Zion could reply, a loud knock echoed through the apartment.

Zion tensed. Lyra vanished into the shadows.

He approached the door slowly.

"Zion. It's Lang."

Zion opened the door, but only halfway. "You shouldn't be here."

Lang stood there-bruised, bandaged, but not armed. His eyes were softer than before.

"I need to talk," Lang said. "Privately."

Zion stepped aside cautiously.

Lang walked in, looked around. "She's here, isn't she?"

Zion didn't answer.

Lang sighed. "Listen. After what happened at Vey's place, Raleigh chewed me out. Told me to stand down. But he wasn't angry because I failed. He was angry because I hesitated."

"What do you mean?"

"I think your boss knows more than he says. I think Raleigh's in on it."

Zion stared.

"I overheard a call," Lang continued. "Someone said: 'If Zion digs too deep, make sure he doesn't come back.' That wasn't a warning. That was a command."

Zion felt the weight settle in.

Lyra reappeared, arms crossed. "Then we have less time than we thought."

Lang startled at her appearance but didn't move.

"I want to help," he said. "I know I'm late to the truth. But I'm tired of protecting a city that lets monsters rule from cathedrals and mansions."

Zion looked at Lyra. "We'll need allies."

She nodded.

"Then we take the next step," Zion said.

Lang raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"We find the chamber in the video. Where the rituals happen. Where the cult hides. We bring it down."

A brief silence passed.

Then Lyra spoke: "There's a place beneath the Old Cathedral. A vault sealed decades ago. That's where it began. That's where it ends."

Zion looked out the window at Okholm's skyline. The night no longer looked peaceful. It looked like a battlefield waiting for fire.

"Then we go underground," he said. "To the roots of their power."