Missing.

"I'll make you proud, Dad", his final words were before he left town for his engineering course in Australia. It'd been almost five years now, and yet that memory was as fresh as anything in my senile mind. He reflected an aura of plush power, like he'd been gifted to the world as my custodian. As I sipped on my green lemon tea, an air of comfort just wafted through my senses.I was going to meet my son today. I walked out onto the patio and looked at the maple tree resting so soulfully in the garden, and my mind couldn't help but slip back 15 years into reminiscence..

He was just seven, tender as the inners of a ripe coconut. "I'm going to plant this seed in here and watch it grow throughout my life, Dada". I couldn't help but smile at the young mind, so ignorant to all the harms this world bears outside the four walls treading on it's conspicuity. "You need to remember, son, that it is your responsibility now to water this seedling everyday, and to take care of it". I remember him nodding like a madman as he ran back into the house.

A wild ring of the telephone hauled me back into reality. I walked towards it, thinking to myself "Yes, son. Finally. It's been a long time". A small part of me was dying to see the ecstatic grin he always possessed. As I pressed the receiver against my ear, a cold voice filled me up with grimace.

He had been the victim of the Shiv Sena rebellions.

                                                                                                 -Aditya Pal, a man who has just his words and memories as a remainder of his son.

The Church Of Illumination.

'His fingers went numb. She knew his weakness. The hilt of his dagger felt cold against his fingers.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "There's nothing in it for you".

"Stop being naive, my child. Your ignorance never failed to amuse me" she said. Her voice had a metallic edge to it. It sounded so distant, like it was resonating from a cavern deep inside her. "Now, now, my child, you have something of mine. Give it back to me. Now."

"Come and take it yourself. I'm not afraid of you." he said, with an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

She smirked. Her red eyes glistened under the moonlight filling the cavern through the cavities. He could feel the amulet against her chest growing warmer and impatient by the moment. If only he could get it off...

"Stultus Filii Christe”, she mused, and charged towards him, her Chrysaor in hand.

The aftermath was a blur. She ran at him, but he side-stepped and dodged the strike. He lashed at her with his Sica, but she long anticipated the move. She dodged, rolling to the side with breath-taking agility, and smashed the hilt of her sword in his stomach. He gagged, stepping back and coughing. He could see that the radiance of the amulet was consuming her as the seconds went by. He charged at her, hoping to crush the amulet with the hilt of his dagger. She tackled him after deceiving him with her sword, and he hit the ground. She’d left a cut on his hand with her poisoned Chrysaor, and he could feel his mortal soul draining out with the blood. Poison crept through his hands, and he knew he had no more than a few seconds. Yellow spots danced in his eyes.

She noticed his distress. “Prognati” she mused. “I told you there’s no winning against me, my child. You could've proved to be a worthy pawn. It’s a shame that I have to kill you. It breaks my heart.”

“You don’t have one” he spurted out. “You’re as despicable as your patron. He should've let it go when he could.”

“Now, my child, I’d watch my words if I were you. Wouldn't want this lovely vessel I'm in getting hurt, would we? And your helpless mother, of course”, she glanced at the table. The amulet’s energy had taken over.

He managed to stand up. 

“Fine”, he said. He lifted the Holy Cross he was wearing around his neck, and her expression went grim. Realization dawned on her face, but she knew she couldn't stop him now.

“You wouldn't do that” she said, horror building up inside her. “I have your mother”.

He knew it was too late. He looked at his mother one last time, who was chained to the table, groaning and unconscious. 

“Forgive me, Ma” he said, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He lifted the Cross, which was now filling the cavern with blinding light.

“Emundat anima nostra, oh Christi. Salutari Nostro” he cried out, as he pressed the Cross to his forehead, closing his eyes. He concentrated on all the good times he had spent with his mother. All the times she simplified the Bible into understandable stories, the times she taught him all the revelations while saying “You’ll face it, one day”. Now he understood what his mother meant. He channelled his anger and grief into the cross, as the demon started wailing inside Prim’s body. The cavern started rumbling, chunks of roof falling everywhere, as he chanted the same phrase over and over. The demon started screaming on top of her voice, but the scream was overcome by the sound of the destruction. The cavern collapsed.’

                                                                      -Page 72,73. The Church Of Illumination.

Yes, the secrets have been unravelled.