Fires swept through the cathedral, sinking down deep into the stone, boiling the catacombs underneath. The waves of heat and the smell of old earth and decay pulsed into Londons streets with each sway of the wind. The fire was malignant. Unnatural. The only kindling in the entire cathedral held had been a few tapestries and old benches, yet the fire roared death and burned with the determination to bring down the stone paramount. The stars shone brightly down upon the hellfire, as if trying to get a better view. A growing crowd began to stir, filling the streets. Restless, the onlookers attention turned upward toward the cathedrals bell tower, toward the silhouette of a figure resting calmly against its stone arches as fire nicked just a few meters below.
Demon! a man shouted, only to be eclipsed by the roar of praying now stricken throughout the mass. The constable, Hale, began to take action. Realizing his pistol did not have the accuracy to fire the 100 meter