Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 411

**Chapter 411 – Decision**
**North Coast of the Conqueror Sea, Nawah.**

The room was dim, shadows pooling in its corners, and Garcia sat rigidly on a single-seat sofa, her expression carved with tension. Standing in front of her, one of her subordinates relayed a disturbing update. Concerned by the Church’s fleet moored in the harbor, Garcia had dispatched scouts to determine the reason for their presence. The report she received, however, was far more troubling than she’d anticipated.

“You’re telling me… Tribunal Investigators are en route here? The Church is amassing strength in Nawah?” she asked sharply, her voice laced with disquiet.

The young man gave a swift nod. “Yes! Pablo and I were selecting targets outside the cathedral for dream entrapment. He chose a nun in white; I focused on a military officer. While interrogating the officer inside his dream, I asked why the fleet had yet to leave the port. He said they were awaiting Tribunal Investigators from Trevois. I was going to dig further, but Pablo suddenly screamed—he must’ve hit something—jerked me out of the dream instantly. I got out fast to avoid the cathedral’s security.

“Madam, the Tribunal never sends Investigators unless they have firm cause—suspicion of heretical activity or signs of a cult. If they’re on their way… they’ve definitely sensed our trail.”

His anxiety was impossible to miss. Garcia stayed quiet for a long beat, then released a long breath and gave her response.

“Understood. You’ve done enough. Dismissed for now.”

“Yes, Madam…” The young man’s shoulders eased slightly, and he took his leave. As soon as he exited, Garcia turned to Gomez, who had been silently standing nearby, mirroring her seriousness.

“Gomez,” she asked, voice low, “do you think… they’ve really discovered us?”

Gomez’s answer came slowly, clouded with unease. “Based on Pablo’s encounter… yes. The Church likely knows we’re here. Their protocol is consistent—when Investigators are dispatched, it means they’ve identified heretical threats that require deeper scrutiny. And here in Nawah… we’re the only clandestine group operating beneath the surface.”

His words were heavy. At first, they’d assumed the Holy War fleet’s presence in Nawah was unrelated, perhaps part of standard rotation. But the summoning of Tribunal agents? That shattered any such illusions.

“Tch… So we’ve been found out. All our careful precautions, all the effort to stay buried—and still, something’s slipped. Who knows how much they’ve uncovered already?” Garcia muttered, massaging her temples, the tension showing through her clenched jaw.

“They’ve definitely caught wind of us,” Gomez said grimly. “But not everything. If they had precise intel, that fleet wouldn’t be sitting idle—they’d have already mobilized an assault. Instead, they called for Investigators, which means they’re still uncertain, probing for details.

“Something must have compromised our secrecy. Maybe it was a small anomaly, maybe a slip during an infiltration. But it was enough to raise their suspicions and prompt them to dig further. They might even have partial insight into our identities or capabilities. That would explain why dream defenses around the cathedral were so fortified. I believe Pablo stumbled right into one of those traps. The nun he targeted may well have been one of their core operatives.”

His analysis was cool, yet every word pressed heavier on Garcia.

“So… it’s possible the fleet initially had no clue. But during their stay, they picked up traces—just enough to trigger an investigation. Now they’ve sent in specialists to peel back the layers,” she growled. “But what broke our cover?”

She clenched her teeth. Gomez leaned forward slightly, his voice grim.

“Madam, what we need to address now is those Investigators from Trevois. The priests in the harbor can’t act with certainty yet—but once the Investigators arrive, the Church will move without hesitation. These are experts in dismantling organizations like ours.

“I say we evacuate Nawah before they get here.”

His urgency was unmistakable, but Garcia met him with a cold stare.

“Evacuate? That’s easy to say, Gomez. We can run—but the ‘Chrysalis’ can’t be taken with us. Leaving now means abandoning it to them, handing over everything we’ve worked so long to protect. Years of effort, gone in an instant.”

Her voice was cutting. But Gomez wasn’t finished.

“Madam, if we try to hold our position after those Investigators land and they link up with the fleet… we’ll be overwhelmed. We’re talking about facing a coordinated force we can’t counter. Staying will ensure both our ruin and the loss of the Chrysalis.”

He was pleading now, but Garcia didn’t answer right away. The silence between them stretched long and tense. Finally, she broke it, her tone steady and resolved.

“No… we’re not abandoning the Chrysalis.”

“But if we don’t—”

“We’ll take another path. One that lets us keep the Chrysalis… and survive.”

Her stare locked on Gomez, unwavering. He looked back, puzzled.

“You’re saying…?”

“I’ve made the decision. We’ll force the Chrysalis to mature. Accelerated incubation. Effective immediately. If we can draw out what’s inside ahead of schedule, we might make it through intact—and possibly remove the Church’s presence from the equation entirely.”

Her words rang with certainty. Gomez was silent for a long time before replying.

“Early emergence? Madam, the risks are monumental. There’s no assurance of success. And even if it does hatch… its growth will be stunted. The outcome could be unstable—dangerous.”

Garcia nodded slightly. “Yes. But the Chrysalis is vital—to us and the Guild. We can’t allow it to fall into their hands. Better to risk it all and claim what we can… than to let it be seized and destroyed.”

Her finality was absolute. Gomez bowed his head, acquiescing.

“Then we’ll proceed. But we need to act quickly. We have to complete the acceleration before the Investigators reach Nawah. The real question is… will the dream-cocoals harvested so far be enough to sustain such a rapid change?”

His voice was low, tinged with foreboding. The Investigators’ exact timetable remained unclear, but they had no time to waste.

—

**…**

Nightfall had gripped Nawah fully. At the harbor, reserved for Church vessels, the mood was somber.

A cluster of men dressed in the garb of the Order of the Holy War stood under harsh, flickering lights. Their commander, Jode, stood silently over a grim scene.

A body lay on a stretcher before him, face contorted in its final horror. Blood had streamed from all seven orifices, and the corpse’s wide-open eyes stared blankly into the sky, frozen in terror.

“Have we identified him?” Jode asked after a long stare.

“Sir,” the adjutant replied, “we asked around the cathedral district—no one knew him. There’s no confirmation of identity yet. But he was no ordinary man. We found runes on him—aligned with shadow forces. Without doubt, he belonged to the hidden world.”

Jode’s frown deepened.

“A shadow operative, dropping dead on our doorstep… bleeding from every hole in his face. Even I haven’t seen something quite like that at sea…” he murmured, pulling a cigarette from his coat. The flame from the match cast flickering shadows on his weathered features as he took a long drag.

“Captain,” the adjutant ventured, “do you think this might be one of the Abyss Sect holdouts? Someone still lurking in Nawah, searching for a way to strike back?”

Jode blew out a cloud of smoke. “Doubtful. Abyss Sect remnants tend to stay close to the tides. Sailors, mostly—lifelong mariners with ocean-imbued skin. This one? Different complexion. And the runes—they weren’t sea-aligned. They pulsed with shadow, not current. No… this wasn’t one of theirs.”

He spoke with certainty. The adjutant hesitated, clearly unsettled.

“If not Abyss… then who? Why such a sudden and violent death?”

“There’s no way to know. What we can say is this: Our choice of this harbor was no accident. Something darker stirs beneath its calm surface.

“Trouble is coming—and it’s stacking fast.”

Jode turned his gaze back to the corpse, smoke curling around him. Then he looked out past the piers, where black water stretched into the horizon. Wind howled through skeletal docks. He turned again to the adjutant.

“Any word from Trevois on the Investigators’ ETA?”

“Yes, Captain. Last report came in late afternoon—they departed recently. Estimated arrival: two days.”

“Two days,” Jode muttered. “We need to be ready. This isn’t just about the Abyss Sect anymore.”

His voice carried the weight of experience and unease. Nawah, he felt in his gut, was hiding more than ghosts of old cults—it was harboring something that clawed at the edge of reason.

—

**…**

Midnight cloaked an upscale hotel tucked deep within Nawah’s winding coastal streets.

Dorothy, still damp from her bath, sat near a crackling hearth. Crimson embers glowed faintly across the elegant room. Moments earlier, she’d expelled a dream-based threat that had tried to worm into Vania’s sleep. Now, she sifted through the implications.

‘This place always felt… off. Now I see why. There are infiltrators here—slinking into dreams under cover of night.’

‘That attack on Vania—they wanted details about the Church fleet. Clearly, our presence rattled them. Enough to trigger reckless intrusions into the minds of others while they slept. What poor luck, choosing Vania as a target… They had no idea what they were up against.’

Her thoughts ran sharp and swift. The proliferation of psychiatric facilities in this town—she now saw it for what it was: a disguise for the operations of the Black Dream Hunters.

‘It fits. The collapse symptoms plaguing Nawah, the dense network of mental institutions—it all points to their presence burrowed in deep.’

‘Another nest. Another hidden node drawn near us, perhaps by sheer inevitability. Odd, but convenient… Given how low I was running on spiritual energy, their presence came at just the right time. Their mistake, our gain.’

Her mood lifted slightly. With the Church’s ships docked close by, the response to these hidden agents could be swift—and official.

‘All I have to do is trace their hideout through the alleys and streets, then lead the Church’s dogs to their doorstep. Let chaos bloom while I watch from the edges, picking through the aftermath for whatever’s worth salvaging.’

A faint smile touched her lips as she warmed her hands by the fire.

‘This mission’s been dragging for weeks. Finally, something that feels familiar… A chance to hand over real threats to real authorities—and maybe tip the scale back in our favor.’

Her fingers flexed. Tomorrow, she would begin her sweep—starting with the psychiatric facilities. Everything pointed there.

She rose, eyes gleaming in the hearthlight. The Citizen Zealot was ready to act again.