Outside the Church of the Void, three carriages stood waiting. Wistert, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling within him, ran toward the middle carriage. Behind him walked Fasmort, the succubus nun, deep in conversation with the Mother Nun.
"Why so much security?" Fasmort asked with a skeptical tone. "There are only three of us; one carriage would have been enough."
"Calm yourself, Fasmort. It is so you look more imposing in the eyes of the world," the Mother replied calmly.
Fasmort took a few steps forward and stopped before boarding. She looked at the superior with a grim expression.
"Mother, perhaps Wistert and I do not belong here and do not know this world... but when a journey requires more than one carriage, it tells me this world is dangerous even for the Institution of Faith itself."
The nun fell silent, shook her head, and headed for the lead carriage.
"Take them to the City of Newxeore. Take the safest route, even if it is the longest," she ordered the driver.
The rider, a man with a weathered face named Warroul, looked at her sternly.
"I promise nothing. Lately, the High Priest's tax hikes have driven many to scavenge from Church carriages, especially those from the Central Branch. You know this yourself. With your permission... Hyah!"
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK!
The three carriages set off, venturing into the Meadows of the Void.
"Hey, Warroul," Fasmort called out from inside. "Why are we going through the meadows? It will take us longer to reach Newxeore."
"Forgive me, milady, but for now, this is the safest zone—even if we could enter a danger zone at any moment. GRRR!" the rider growled as he reined in the beasts.
Wistert watched through the window. The meadows were vast, bathed in an ethereal, unreal light.
"These meadows are so strange..." the boy whispered.
"They are the Meadows of Empty Tears," Fasmort explained. "They say the Star of the Void, during its divine reign, shed tears for the death of a friend in the World of Titans. The tears overflowed most of the Void's western peak, giving birth to this place. Warroul, open the windows, please."
"As you wish, holy lady."
CREEEAK! The windows swung open.
"Lean out, Wistert," the nun said. "If you listen closely, you will hear a lament."
Amidst the whispering wind and the swaying grass, the weeping of a woman could be heard. It was a sound of gaunt, hollow pain that made one's skin crawl. The wind gathered leaves and trees to the rhythm of the Void. The screeching of the carriage—SCREECH!—blended with the wind. The view became a repetitive cycle that made Wistert dizzy, until the movement stopped abruptly.
"Warroul, why did we stop?" Fasmort asked.
"Quiet. We are close, but we must cross the Orkauis Swamp, and it is deadly at night. We will stay here, kept back; the meadows are safe for now. Though, in my opinion, you might as well rest outside."
Wistert looked at Fasmort with suspicion.
"I think it's better to stay inside."
Night fell. The sounds of nocturnal animals were scattered and haughty. Suddenly...
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
A rhythmic, dry pounding, like knuckles striking old wood. It was an agitated tapping. Wistert woke up startled.
"Who would be knocking at these moons?" he thought.
Through the glass, he thought he saw the rider's silhouette. He opened the door and poked his head out.
"Huh? How strange... there's no one."
He closed the door, trying to drift back to sleep, but soon another dry, frantic knock woke him. This time, he saw Fasmort's silhouette outside.
"Fasmort? But she was just here..." Wistert turned around. Her seat was empty. "She must have gone out and can't get back in."
He opened the door and leaped from the carriage, expecting to hit dry ground, but... SPLASH!
He sank into something viscous and cold. He looked around. They were in the middle of a dark swamp. A frozen gale struck him, and when he turned back, the carriage was gone. Fasmort's silhouette began to deform, corrupting under the reflection of the Star of the Void. It wasn't her anymore. It was a distorted shadow whose empty sockets grew dark.
From within his own pulse, Wistert felt a voice echoing in his blood:
"Run... now."
Wistert ran. The shadow let out a supernatural shriek. The boy slipped and hid behind some large debris. He felt no fear, but the sound of the shadow made his heart stop for a moment. Then, following a soul-piercing scream, the debris vanished as if it had never existed, leaving him exposed in the nothingness.