Cael was an unexpectedly large city. Of course, compared to the capital, Sanctavia, it wasn't as glamourous, but it would still be hard not to marvel at it all. Like Sanctavia, blue, white and gold were found on many of the more cultural, religious and historical buildings.
On the streets, priests and sisters could be seen preaching to small crowds of eager spectators. Children playing in the streets with stars plastered on all their faces. Even the animals, from birds to insects seemed to be blessed with the joyous atmosphere.
Every sound blended into a harmonious song of faith and innocence.
They all lacked the jewels, fabric, land and wealth of the nobles in the capital, but they seemed far more at peace than they did as well.
All except the princess who walked amongst them.
Anastasia walked through the streets with a resentful glare in her eyes. She did well to mask it, but every time a priest or sister walked up to her, they fearfully apologized and averted their gaze.
One of the children accidentally bumped into her. The child fell and looked to the girl who didn't move at all.
"S-sorry ma'am, I didn't-"
Murder was all that looked back into his eyes. He stumbled to his feet and quickly ran away rejoining his friends. Anastasia's eyes softened at the sight, and she let out a frustrated sigh. She looked at the children playing with each other. She watched as they made core memories with each other. Memories they would one day recall as better times.
Longing plagued her heart.
She opened her palm and gently caressed where her fingers connected to the hand.
"They used to be so hard," she thought to herself.
She tried not to think of the past, but how could she not when the childhood she so dearly wanted was playing out in front of her. Mocking her.
She hurriedly wiped her eyes with her sleeves. But one man noticed the saddened girl.
"Sophia? Are you alright?"
A shiver ran up her spine at the familiar voice.
She turned to see the dark shades and white gown of Bishop Sebastian. A look of concern was on his face, but Anastasia couldn't help but feel uneasy around him.
He reached forward to try and grab her hand. She almost punched him in the throat on instinct, but she held herself back and only retracted her hand.
He let out a small uncomfortable laugh.
"Still on edge I see. Sorry. I should have known better."
"Yes, you should have. What do you want from me?"
The cold words didn't seem to faze the bishop.
"Oh nothing. I just happened to notice you, and you seemed to be unhappy. I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do?"
She almost cringed at his words.
"There's nothing you can do for me. Leave me alone."
"I think there is. I am a man of many experiences. I think I know a thing or two."
Revolted by the idea, she was ready to walk away from him. But then, a thought came to her.
"Hold on, isn't now the perfect time to get some information out of him?"
She looked back at the man. When he realized she was looking back at him, he smiled at her, making the hairs on her neck stand on end.
"If worst comes to worst, I'll just knock him out. But first, I need to get somewhere private."
She took a deep breath and spoke out.
"Fine. But I would like to do this in private."
He bowed, pleased she agreed to his request.
"Of course. Let us head to the chapel. No one should be there today."
~
The walk to the church was done in awkward silence. Sebastian tried small talk but it didn't go well with the princess. When they arrived, the bishop wanted to take her to his office where they could be more private, but Anastasia greatly disagreed.
They now sat in one of the pews of the chapel. Sebastian sat with a look of intrigue while Anastasia sat awkwardly for a simple oversight she made.
"Damn it. I worried so much about what he might do and didn't even think of a story to tell. How foolish of me. I'll have to give my brother some credit for being able to lie so well."
Remembering her brother, she remembered the words he said long ago.
The best lies are based on truths.
She still saw the small, sad smile on his lips. Quickly, she pushed those thoughts behind and spoke her truth.
"When I said my parents died at the hand of slavers, it was only a half-truth."
Sebastian tilted his head in confusion.
"Half-truth?"
She nodded slowly in response.
"Yes. Only my father was killed by the slavers. My mother died when I was very young. Some kind of disease. Father worked so hard to pay for the medicine, but he didn't make enough money in time. I don't remember her much, but I do remember her smile."
Sebastian shifted in his seat when he saw her lips turn upward.
"Ever since then, my father… changed. He became colder. Harsher. He trained me to do small jobs ever since I was a child. He says it was to teach me about the world and to toughen me up."
Instinctually, she rubbed the inside of her hands. Unintentionally, it drew sympathy from the bishop.
"I believe him. But, I can't help but feel resentment towards him. And not only him. To other kids too. I never got to have a childhood. I never got to grow up with loving parents. I never got to make lasting memories with friends."
Her voice got louder, more like a cry. Her eyes began to water. This time, she didn't bother to wipe them.
"I know it's not fair to them," she continued, "But what about me? It's not fair to me either, yet no one seems to care. No seems to notice me. How is that fair?"
Tears were now freely falling from her face. As she tried to compose herself, she expected Sebastian to reach over and try to 'comfort' her. But he never did. She took a glance at him, and he sat still, only a look of concern on his face. Then, he reached inside his gown and took out a tissue.
"Here Sophia. Use this."
She was a little bit shocked at the gesture. It took her a moment to reach out and grab the tissue to wipe her eyes.
"You've been through a lot, child," he continued, "It's good you told me. You shouldn't shoulder all of that on your own."
He then offered her his hand. She flinched, but not a hint of disappointment was expressed on his face. He simply remained as he was, a smile still on his face.
Seeing this, she obliged the man and put her hand in his. His hands were surprisingly strong and rough. Like he had a similar past to hers.
"Follow me. I have something I want to show you."
As they walked, Sebastian suddenly asked her a question.
"You believe in the Aeons, right?"
"Y-yes. My father would read to me stories from the texts."
She took another pause, again trying to fill in the story.
"He preached about only the hardworking and diligent would be blessed. But I was always more fascinated by their kindness than blessings. I wanted to be just like them."
Sebastian remained silent hearing these words. The princess sensed a small, sad darkness enter his heart. But as soon as it appeared, it vanished.
"You truly are a child."
Those words made Anastasia's brows furrow.
"I meant no insult. Just... I wish I remained that way."
It was only then Anastasia realized she hadn't been paying attention to where they were going. The corridor around them was unfamiliar, narrower and darker. The stone was worn smooth by centuries of steps that hadn't walked this path in years.
Panic began to settle in her heart.
Soon, they stopped before a black door. Sebastian reached for the handle without hesitation, the hinges letting out a long, dry scream as it opened.
Inside was a circular chamber supported by four pillars, each crowned with four unlit torch. Six large red mats lay scattered across the floor, their color dulled and their corners caked with dirt. Cobwebs draped the walls like curtains and roaches squirmed in the cracks.
Sebastian gestured for her to enter. Before following the bishop, she looked into the room and an overwhelming sense of dread overcame the girl. Her legs almost buckled and she half turned, readying to escape.
"What is it?" Sebastian asked, "I know it's a little creepy, but it isn't that bad."
He was right. There wasn't anything necessarily wrong with the room. But those were the instincts of one who couldn't manipulate anima.
To the princess, it screamed. The air itself bled. She could feel death's touch clinging to every surface. But that wasn't what scared.
It was the statue of a handsome, naked man in the front. He was posed in a triumphant pose with his left hand outstretched palm facing up.
And real human eyes staring right at her.