Damien stood in the centre of the scarcely lit cathedral craning his head back to peer at the high void of the ceiling. Cobwebs covered half broken benches and an altar melted at the head of it's shattered choir. Broken glass and chipped paint carpeted the stoney, jagged shapes strewn into a flooring. A droplet of water smashed against the silence in a blinding echo that rippled through his bones. He gripped his arm with a sharp wince from his breath. His index finger twitched and spasmed, curling and flexing against his will.

The intensity subsided, the droplets growing distant and his hand moved away from his ear. His hand relaxed as he twisted his wrist in circles, letting blood flow freely again.

"Why the hell are we even here, Damien?" he mused to himself. He looked closer at small bits of wood noticing that they had been petrified. Sharp, unclean cuts warped the larger piece he held in his hand, picked from smaller shards riddled over the flooring.

The granite blocks serving as walls were largely intact, barley even scratched or blotched. They rose into arches and columns, like a giant tree, whose leaves had been torn from it's fingers. Damien tossed the piece back onto the ground that echoed like glass clinking off of hard material. He touched one of the arches, tracing his finger along the inner curvature of the masterful cuts that created this architecture. His skin tugged on something momentarily and a subtle clack bit at the stale air.

A passage of sorts ground open, skirting against itself and then halted. Damien took an intact candle whose wick was still whole from the candleabra hanging near him. The fire glowed in has hand as he placed a small lighter back into his coat pocket. Cool air came out like a breeze, touching his cheeks as he moved closer. He ducked into the narrow entry way struggling with the last bit of movement he could enact upon the stone door. A narrow stair well decended into a thick darkness pulsating with the flickering flame.

His shoes clapped as he ventured down the steps which started to curve to his left. Around he went with them, following intently like an eager student. Another curve took him further down until he came to an archway that met a level ground. The path before him split into a slightly larger tunnel that went left and right. Damien peered past the archway to his left and noticed large chunks of debris and rocks had flooded the way. The right was open.

"I'm not even getting paid for this anymore," sighed Damien.

He paced forward taking the unobstructed route. The walls on both sides were wider and Damien stretched his back as he stood at full. A curve in the tunnel bent to the right, so he turned one shoulder forward then the opposite, like navigating crowded city streets. Bits of the stone chipped off onto his jacket leaving a fine dust that he brushed off quickly.

The tunnel emptied into a larger grouping of carved out halls divided by large stalactites partly shaped into pillars. His steps began to echo again and in the distance he could see a faint glow of fire reflecting off of the natural formations. Damien prowled down the rough path towards the source, checking his side's and flank. His fingers bit the flame of his candle extinguishing his light source and he threw the object aside.

Voices chattered amongst the halls, reverberating back to his ears. Cheers, cries and shouts clamored over the other, vying for attention. Marks and tags had been etched into the walls as he moved closer to the commotion. Names and dates were mixed into art works of flags and images that were alien to Damien.

"Tonight we feast," shouted a deep, unsettling voice. "Tomorrow we rise and release these great nations from their tools of tyranny. The oppression of control will no longer drive the lives of people into early graves. It will be the people who decide which nations are to stay and which shall die. We start with the worst of them all: The Ministries."