Cassian felt a twinge of annoyance at Russella's religious fanaticism, but once she fell asleep the previous night, he quietly left her room. The night had yielded a trove of new information about the case, yet it also brought more mysteries than before.
He was certain the pastor was connected to the murders, but he still couldn't understand why one member of each family had been spared. And those portraits left behind in the houses—haunting and enigmatic—remained a puzzle he had yet to solve.
The sickening motive behind the pastor's actions gnawed at Cassian's mind as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. The next morning, a little later than planned, he found himself standing in front of the village church of Surock, its walls adorned with the symbol of clasped hands. Cassian was accompanied by Dallas, Cassandra, and Russella, who had chosen to come along as a mediator between them and the surviving member of the Wan family.
Because of this, Cassian had kept what Russella had told him about the pastor from his two colleagues. Just as they were about to enter, Russella cautioned them, "She's very religious and might take offense if you say anything negative about the church, so please refrain." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "And I'm not sure if she even knows her family was murdered, so…"
At her last words, everyone's expressions tightened with concern and a hint of frustration. Breaking the news of a loved one's death was an exceptionally difficult task—one that required the utmost respect and empathy, while maintaining professionalism and asking necessary questions. It was a delicate balance, and one that could become even more challenging depending on the individual's reaction.
Russella guided them into the church through a discreet side entrance, avoiding the main doors to maintain some level of privacy. As they stepped inside, Cassian took in the unexpected grandeur of the interior. Unlike the simple village churches he was used to, this one was impressive in its architecture. High arched ceilings reached up to intricate beams adorned with the carved symbol of clasped hands, replacing the traditional cross he might have expected.
The space was vast and meticulously maintained, each polished surface catching the warm, flickering light of the candles scattered throughout. The aisles were lined with pews of dark wood, their surfaces smoothed from years of use, and tapestries depicting scenes of devotion and sacrifice hung along the walls.
What drew Cassian's eye most was the altar at the front. There, illuminated by a cluster of softly glowing candles, stood a statue of a woman. Her expression was serene yet shadowed by sorrow, a shroud of grief carved into her delicate features. At her feet, thorny vines coiled tightly, their dark tendrils stained with what looked like blood, as if they had pierced her bare skin. The sight was both beautiful and unsettling, a silent testament to pain and faith intertwined.
Russella paused to let them absorb the scene, her eyes glancing back at them as if gauging their reactions.
Seeing that they were still taking in the details, Russella allowed them a moment before speaking. "The caretaker lives at the back of the church," she said. The three nodded and followed her as she added with a smile, "This church is the oldest building in the village. It was here long before any settlers arrived. The statue of the 'Pained Goddess' was also here from the beginning." And giving the statute a Reverent look, she continued, "No one knows who she represents or her name, but humans are hopeful creatures. They found solace here and began to pray to her, myself included."
Cassian's interest was piqued as she recounted the church's history. They crossed through the large structure and reached the backyard, where a garden and a small house stood. Ignoring the beautiful scenery, Cassian asked, "Why is she called the 'Pained Goddess'?"
"Because she takes all of our pain and bears it," said a new voice, joining the conversation. Everyone turned, surprised by the newcomer.
She was a strikingly beautiful, mature woman dressed in dark red garments that covered her entire body, leaving only her hands and face exposed. Even her hair was hidden beneath a matching veil, though from her dark eyebrows, Cassian guessed that her hair was likely black—a common color in the world.
Her skin was rosy, and she had sharp, large eyes set in a small, delicate face. Most of her features were fine and understated, except for her eyes and full, rosy lips, which naturally drew attention yet didn't seem out of place. Everything fit together perfectly on her face. She was tall and lean, but her loose clothing obscured her figure, making it difficult for Cassian to discern her shape.
The woman's expression softened as she stepped closer. "The Pained Goddess," she began, her voice warm and resonant, "Is said to embody all the suffering of those who seek her. It is believed that she takes their pain into herself, allowing them a moment of peace, a respite from the hardships of life. That is why so many have come here over generations—to find comfort in her silent compassion."
Cassian listened intently, noting the deep reverence in her tone. The others exchanged glances as the woman continued, "Some believe that the statue has seen every sorrow this village has endured, standing vigil as an unwavering witness. It is said that even when prayers are whispered in despair, she hears them all and holds the weight within herself."
The silence that followed was solemn, charged with a shared respect for the legend. The woman turned to Russella with a curious look. "Are these new members seeking to join our services?" she asked, a hopeful smile touching her lips.
Russella's expression shifted, a shadow crossing her features as she shook her head sadly. "No," she said softly. "They've come from the city's law enforcement department."
The woman's smile faltered but didn't fade entirely. Instead, curiosity sparked in her eyes. "Really? My elder brother and his family live there," she said with a hint of pride.
At her words, the faces of Cassian, Dallas, and Cassandra grew troubled. Russella met the woman's gaze with a sympathetic look and said gently, "Dasika, they are here about your brother's family."
Confusion flickered across Dasika's face, her smile fading as worry settled in its place. "What about them?"