“Praise be!”“A miracle.”“Angel-touched!”
They were poor, naïve, deceived fools.
Supplicating, the brown-robed men filtered in.Kalia turned, lilting towards the fireplace.The last devotee shut the door.
At least a dozen other bodies spread out in the room.A sheen of sweat formed on their brows upon entrance into the cramped, heated space.
One monk split away from the group and approached Saer, kneeling in front of him with a kind smile.“The Light has seen fit to save you this day, traveler.”The First recognized his voice—Abbot Maurice.
The abbot nodded with encouragement, mistaking Saer’s apprehension for awe.“You’re chosen.I invite you to pray with us.”Gesturing to the gathering of religious practitioners, Saer swallowed and shook his head once.
Abbot, lock the door.We’re not to be interrupted this evening.The dulcet command hummed from within, too much for one of the brothers, who fell to his knees, weeping with ecstasy.Kalia’s body faced the fireplace, her back to the room.
A brief flash of curiosity graced Maurice’s face but was quickly doused by unquestioning faith.“Yes, of course, Light.”
Light.They called It ‘Light.’
The abbot moved to comply, pulling a ring of keys from his belt and locking the calefactory door with harrowing finality.
Saer’s mind ratcheted in double time.What was It doing?What did It intend?
Kalia’s hand curled out from her body after Maurice completed the request.The key, Abbot.Again, with unfaltering trust, the brother went to the Seventh’s side and placed his iron keys in her offered palm.Digits curling over the handle, Kalia’s limb sank to her side, dismissing the abbot without another word.
Maurice took his place amongst the rest of the brothers.
Saer hadn’t moved from his place on the floor.
Saerkhanum.
The misery dripping in that single word was anguish to Pride’s heart, making his breath catch.Hells help him, he wanted to protect the bearer of it, to turn that agony into joy—and not.Why!Why should he worship and cower when he’d been made better?Mademore?
The monks heard the address as well, and some released sobs, clutching at their chests.
No!
Shoving his palms into the floor, Saer focused on its coldness, the unyielding rough surface.Lucifer hadn’t asked him a question.He bit his tongue, silent.
Kalia’s body turned.The endless obsidian in her gaze lightened to Saer’s reflection—the color of pale kyanite.Lucifer’s eyes.
Pride’s eyes.
I’ve missed you, my child.
Saer choked on a whimper and a curse, all at once.
Crouching down with impossible elegance so they were the same height, those icicle eyes fixed on Saer’s face from across the room.The monks watched with silence or hushed sobs.Her face encompassed the picture of perfect torment.Have you missed me?
Yes, he wanted to scream.
And no.Not for a moment.
Saer opened his mouth to answer but faltered, unable to give Lucifer a truth It wanted to hear.
The hesitation hung, and a flicker of void crossed Kalia’s gaze.Sadness flushed out of her face like a landslide, leaving behind careful and deceptive apathy.In the next blink, the expression peeled back as though it had never been.Saer questioned his own sanity, whether the change occurred at all.
Skittering along the ground, arms and legs slinking, Kalia bypassed the monks.Saer pushed his heel into the stone floor, shoving his back further into the wall behind him.His breath hitched as she drew closer, somehow both disturbing and beautiful.The Seventh’s body flowed into a kneel.
As Kalia’s hand reached forward, he closed his eyes and fought the instinct to shiver.The side of Sloth’s fingertip skimmed along one of Saer’s metallic crescents, then the palm pushed forward and cupped his jawline.The touch intoxicated and nauseated him all at once.
