Chapter 7: The Price of Power

Arthur didn't realize he was falling until his knees hit the concrete floor of the parking garage. The stolen data drives from Alchemax scattered around him like digital confetti, each one containing evidence of corporate genocide—and none of it mattering if he couldn't stay conscious long enough to use it.

"Arthur!" Zara's voice seemed to come from very far away, though she was kneeling right beside him. "Hey, stay with us, divine boy. We're almost out of here."

The world was spinning, reality blurring at the edges like a photograph left too long in the sun. Arthur could feel his connection to the Keeper wavering, the divine energy that had sustained him since his resurrection flickering like a candle in a hurricane.

CRITICAL WARNING: DIVINE BURNOUT DETECTED SPIRITUAL CONNECTION STABILITY: 12% AND FALLING RISK OF PERMANENT SEVERANCE: EXTREME

The interface text was fainter now, barely visible against the gray static that was creeping into his vision. Arthur tried to speak, to tell his companions what the system was showing him, but the words came out as an incoherent whisper.

"What's wrong with him?" Zara demanded, her usual manic energy replaced by something that might have been genuine fear.

Kael crouched beside Arthur, his weathered face grim as he examined the elf's condition. "Divine burnout. Seen it before, during the Goblin Wars. Happens when a champion pushes too hard, draws too deep from the well."

Arthur managed to focus on the dwarf's face, noting the way Kael's expression had shifted from concern to something approaching resignation.

"Is it... is it fatal?" Arthur asked, the words feeling like they were being dragged up from the bottom of a very deep well.

"Not immediately," Kael said carefully. "But if we can't get your connection to your god stabilized..." He trailed off, but Arthur could fill in the blanks. Permanent severance from the divine source that had brought him back from death. He'd become mortal again—assuming he survived the process at all.

Zara was frantically consulting her tablet, fingers flying across multiple displays. "There's got to be something we can do. Some kind of technological solution, or—"

"Technology can't fix this, lass." Kael's voice carried the weight of experience and old grief. "Divine magic isn't like your electronics. It's not powered by batteries or clever programming. It runs on faith."

Arthur felt another wave of disconnection wash over him, like being slowly unplugged from the universe itself. The warm presence of the Keeper was growing more distant by the moment, fading to a whisper at the very edge of his consciousness.

"Faith," he repeated, trying to understand what Kael meant. "My faith? Because I believe in what we're doing?"

"Not just your faith, lad." Kael stood, pacing the small circle of safety their stolen car provided in the shadowy parking garage. "That's the mistake most people make about divine champions. They think it's all about personal conviction, about how strongly you believe in your god or your cause."

The dwarf gestured toward the city lights visible through the garage's open levels—thousands of windows, millions of people going about their lives, unaware of the supernatural war being fought in their midst.

"But real divine power comes from community. From being part of something larger than yourself. A Cleric doesn't just channel their own faith—they channel the faith of everyone who believes in what they represent."

Arthur tried to process this through the growing fog in his mind. "So I need... what? A congregation?"

"You need believers, yes. But not the kind that show up on Sunday mornings and drop coins in a collection plate." Kael's expression was distant, as if he were remembering something painful. "You need people who have faith in you, in your mission, in the idea that forgotten things still matter."

DIVINE CONNECTION ANALYSIS CURRENT FAITH SOURCES: ISOLATED RECOMMENDATION: SEEK SANCTUARY OF ACCUMULATED BELIEF WARNING: TIME REMAINING BEFORE SEVERANCE: UNKNOWN

"The interface is suggesting something about a sanctuary," Arthur managed to say. "Somewhere with... accumulated belief?"

Zara looked up from her tablet, her eyes bright with sudden understanding. "Wait, I might have something. In all the data I pulled from Alchemax, there were references to locations they wanted to avoid. Places where their magical contamination wouldn't work properly."

She pulled up a map of Calathon, dotted with red markers that showed the proposed deployment zones for the ghoul virus. But there were gaps in the pattern—several areas that remained unmarked, as if they were somehow protected.

"Here," she said, pointing to a location in the old part of the city. "St. Magdalene's Cathedral. Built in 1847, abandoned by the archdiocese in 1993, scheduled for demolition next month. But look at this—" She highlighted a section of corporate correspondence. "Alchemax specifically flagged it as a 'spiritually active site' to be avoided during initial deployment."

Kael studied the map, his expression thoughtful. "St. Magdalene's. I remember that place. Back when I was still on the force, we'd get calls about strange lights, mysterious music, people claiming they felt... peaceful there. Even after it was officially closed."

Arthur felt a flicker of something—not quite hope, but maybe its distant cousin. "You think there might be... what? Residual faith? Left over from when it was active?"

"More than that," Kael said slowly. "Think about it, lad. What kind of people would seek sanctuary in an abandoned cathedral? The forgotten ones. The outcasts. The people society has given up on."

The same people Alchemax wanted to eliminate. The same people the Keeper claimed as his own.

Arthur tried to stand and immediately regretted it as the world tilted sideways. Zara caught his arm, steadying him against the car.

"Easy there, divine boy. You're running on fumes."

"We have to try," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If there's even a chance..."

Kael was already moving toward the driver's seat. "St. Magdalene's it is, then. But Arthur—I need you to understand something. What we're attempting... it's not guaranteed to work. And if it fails..."

Arthur nodded weakly. If it failed, he'd die. Again. And this time, there would be no divine intervention to bring him back.

But as they drove through the empty streets toward the old cathedral, Arthur found himself thinking about the alpha ghoul in the subway tunnels. About its moment of recognition, its gratitude as the divine light freed it from corruption. About Dr. Thorne's casual dismissal of forty thousand lives as an acceptable business expense.

Maybe faith wasn't just about believing in something greater than yourself. Maybe it was about believing that everyone deserved to be remembered, that every forgotten soul still mattered.

DIVINE CONNECTION PULSE DETECTED SOURCE: APPROACHING SANCTUARY FAITH RESONANCE: WEAK BUT PRESENT

As they turned onto the street where St. Magdalene's stood, Arthur felt it—a flutter of warmth in his chest, like the first hint of sunrise after the longest night. The cathedral loomed ahead of them, its Gothic spires reaching toward heaven despite decades of neglect.

And there were lights in the windows.

"Well," Kael said, parking across from the building's massive oak doors. "That's either a very good sign, or we're about to walk into something that'll make Dr. Thorne look like a friendly neighborhood accountant."

Arthur stared at the cathedral, at the warm glow emanating from its stained glass windows, and felt the Keeper's presence stir at the edge of his fading consciousness.

Not abandoned, came the whisper. Never abandoned. Only forgotten by those who never understood what faith really means.

"Let's find out," Arthur said, and stepped out of the car toward whatever waited in the sanctuary of dust and memory.

The data drives from Alchemax could wait. Right now, his very existence hung in the balance, and somewhere in that forgotten cathedral, the faith of the forgotten was calling him home.