The next morning arrived with a weight that pressed on the Holy Capital like a storm waiting to break.
The Great Cathedral was already alive.
From the back chamber behind the main hall — a high, vaulted room lined with carved mana-stone pillars — Noel could hear the echo of footsteps, voices, and the distant roaring bells that had begun ringing at dawn.
Dong.
Dong.
Dong.
Each strike resonated like an announcement to the world:
The Saint has returned.
Charlotte stood near one of the tall stained-glass windows, the soft colors painting her hair in hues of gold and rose. She wore her formal Saint robes — white with silver lining, embroidered with soft pastel pink threads that glowed faintly with holy mana. They were symbolic, regal… and heavy.
Noel watched her adjust the sleeves with quiet focus.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Charlotte exhaled, her breath slightly shaky. "I don't know if okay is the right word."
She turned to him with a small smile — nervous, but genuine.
