"Good morning," Bishop said, hovering over the newly-awakening form of Arelia.

The ex-Marine's eyes slowly came into focus, moving over the features of his face until they became alert and aware. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawning.

"What time is it?" she asked softly. Bishop stroked her hair gently.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Time never matters here." He let his hand drift to her cheek. "You're all right, aren't you? Did you sleep well?"

"I slept fine," she lied. "You?"

"Fine," he lied back. "I think there's someplace we should visit. I checked your map; there's a church in town."

"Well," Arelia began, "that'd be interesting if it were still standing."

"Indeed. Anyway, we should probably get going. Are you particularly hungry?"

"No."

"All right, then." Bishop helped her stand. "Off to the church, it is."

The two headed down Bradbury. In between Levin St. and Bachman was another alley that led all the way up to Bloch. Several times Arelia had to consult the map, and Bishop constantly listened for white noise on her radio. On the intersection, they turned right, and came to the steps of the Balkan Church.

The stone stairway leading to the wood double-doors was cracked with some great force. Some of the evidence of shattering extended to the road under Arelia and Bishop's feet. The church itself was huge and reminded Arelia of the gothic Catholic structures that were scattered along Hannibal, the town she had grown up in. Slowly, she ascended the steps and pulled open the left door by its iron ring. Bishop squeezed the trigger guard of his shotgun and followed, closing the door behind them.

Arelia passed the empty pews only partially intact. Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the polished marble floor, free of blood, but not free of the same shattering that had occurred on the steps outside. The walls, too, were cracked and showed signs of the application of brute force.

"Whatever happened to this town could have very well started out in the church, by the looks of it," she murmured quietly to Bishop. He grabbed her by her shoulder suddenly, staying her progression toward a figure she had not seen earlier. It was standing with its back to her, dressed in what seemed to be the attire of an eccentric mourner or gypsy. Slowly it turned, revealing an even more absurd face adorned with layers of dark makeup. It was an old woman.

"I've been expecting you," she told them, twitching slightly. "It was foretold by Gyromancy."

Arelia did not take her eyes off the woman. She drew her weapon and held it level with her chest. "I've heard of Gyromancy," she said. "It's an ancient divination ritual used to create prophecies. A person would walk in a circle marked with letters, eventually becoming dizzy and stumbling at different points. Thus it was thought to spell out an event to come."

"But what does that have to do with us?" Bishop asked.

"Apparently, she's been using it."

"I knew you'd come," the strange woman muttered, almost to herself. "You want the girl, right?"

"The girl?" Arelia said, confused. "Who are you talking about?" The woman made a broad gesture that encompassed everything around her.

"I see everything!" she declared, cackling in such a manner that it reminded Bishop of rabbits being choked to death in a plastic bag.

"All right, I'm just about sick of you," he said. He raised his shotgun to her head and stepped forward.

"Stay back!" the woman warned, putting her hands in front of her. There was such a wild and disoriented look in her eyes that Arelia was led to believe she might be the sole survivor who had seen everything happen within the town.

"Hold it," she said quietly, putting a hand on Bishop's bicep. It was rigid under her grasp. "She's probably taken sanctuary here to escape the demons. Maybe she can tell us something." Bishop glanced at Arelia, then slowly relaxed his muscles and lowered the shotgun.

"All right," he said. "Talk." The woman hesitated a moment, then seemed to grow sure of herself again.

"Nothing is to be gained from floundering about at random. You must follow the path. That path of the hermit, concealed by Flauros." At both Arelia and Bishop's confused looks, she turned behind her to the altar and withdrew a pyramid-shaped object broken off into strangely designed sections.

"Here," she said, holding it up. "The Flauros, a cage of peace. It can break through the walls of darkness and counteract the wrath of the underworld." The object gleamed in the light as if it were an instrument of God. "These will help you," she concluded, placing the Flauros back onto the altar beside another object. Just as Arelia thought the woman may have a lucid moment, her eyes grew wide and began to jump around frantically.

"Make haste to the hospital, before it's too late!" she cried, and suddenly moved for the door leading into the back of the church.

"Hey!" Bishop growled. "Come back here!" He ran after her, but by the time he reached the door, she had slammed and locked it. He pulled hard on the knob and pounded on the wood.

"It's of no use," Arelia sighed, placing her gun inside her jacket and searching her pockets. The police officer kicked the door once more before stepping up to the altar.

"Let's see what the senile old bat left us," he murmured. Arelia glared at him disapprovingly as he ran his fingertips over the Flauros and a silver key tagged as "drawbridge".

"Where'd you put my smokes?" she demanded angrily. Bishop sheepishly smiled.

"They kinda went through the wash with your clothes," he admitted. Arelia's eyes suddenly became as large as the old woman's had. "I'm, uh, sorry... But maybe this is a good time to break your habit, you know?"

Arelia just stared at him.