The doors creaked open with a sound that felt alive.
Inside the chapel, time had frozen. Dust danced in the air like ash. Candles flickered despite no flame. Symbols were carved into every wall—ancient, mathematical, divine.
Valeria stepped inside.
The chapel pulsed—like it recognized her.
> "Welcome home."
The voice was soft, sharp, and familiar.
From the shadows stepped a woman in a dark cloak. Long hair. Cold smile. And in her hand… the number 3 carved into bone.
> "You've grown," she said.
Valeria's grip tightened on the revolver. "Number Three."
The woman smirked. "You remember. Good. The ritual will be easier now."
"Why me?" Valeria asked. "Why was I chosen?"
"Because you were born when all four numbers aligned," she said. "One for the mind. Two for the body. Three for the will. And you—Number Four—for the soul."
Suddenly, the room began to shake. The symbols on the walls glowed with faint, golden light. Valeria fell to her knees, a burning sensation flooding her veins.
> "It's starting," Number Three whispered.
Valeria screamed—but it wasn't pain.
It was power.
Memories surged:
Her childhood.
The basement.
The whispers in her sleep.
Her mother's words: "You were the only one who escaped."
Her brother's truth: "You're the answer."
And then—she saw it.
Equations written in light, across her skin.
Symbols moved like DNA strands.
A language only she could read.
She stood, glowing.
Number Three stepped back. "No… you're not ready—"
Valeria opened her eyes—bright white.
> "I am now."
She lifted her hand and the entire chapel shook.
Number Three screamed, shielding her face.
But Valeria had seen it: the final number. Etched into the altar, hidden until now.
Zero.
And she understood.
> "They never wanted to complete the sequence," she whispered.
"They wanted to reset it."