Chapter 53 Whispers Remain

Weeks bled into months, and a fragile peace settled upon the City. The entity's absence was a palpable change, a weight lifted from the collective shoulders of its citizens. Yet, the memories of the battle, the tremors in the night, and the whispers in the catacombs lingered like phantoms. Friesland, haunted by the ordeal, found solace in routine. He patrolled the city streets, a watchful guardian ever vigilant against the shadows. The weight of leadership, however, felt heavier than before. The threat might be subdued, but the source of the darkness remained a mystery. Elizabeth, ever the scholar, delved into the scrolls retrieved from the hidden chamber. They spoke of ancient pacts, forgotten rituals, and a hidden order dedicated to guarding the world from such entities. One crisp autumn afternoon, as Friesland patrolled the bustling market square, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd. It was the Scholar, his frail form seemingly more frail, but his eyes held a spark of determ