City of Light, 8:30 a.m.
Inside Westminster Cathedral, sunlight streamed through the stained glass of the dome, casting beams across the heads of the crowd below.
More than five thousand people had gathered in the cathedral's grand worship hall, waiting for the Holy Light ceremony to begin. They believed devoutly in the Holy Light and hoped the great Lord of Light would redeem them, allowing them to enter the Divine Kingdom after death and enjoy eternal bliss.
At the cathedral entrance, a stooped old man walked slowly inside, carrying a leather case that looked rather heavy.
The Holy Light Knights keeping order at the entrance paid little attention to the old man. People carrying cases were common at these ceremonies. His was probably stuffed with Gold Pounds that he would donate to the church afterward in hopes of receiving a Bishop's blessing, or even an Archbishop's.
The old man made his way toward the front of the cathedral. Seeing his age and the case in his hand, many people stepped aside.
Though thousands filled the hall, it was neither noisy nor chaotic. Everyone quietly found a seat and prayed in silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.
Just then, a bell rang through the worship hall. Its long, pleasant tone brought a sense of calm.
Priest Karl and the nun walked onto the platform at the front, one after the other, wearing gentle smiles. He looked like a kindly elder, she the very picture of grace. No one would have guessed what sordidness they hid.
Old John, seated below, suddenly came to his senses. He looked around in confusion. He had no memory of how he had gotten there.
Old John knew the worship hall well. He was a regular at Westminster Cathedral and recognized Priest Karl and