The room fell into silence as every gaze landed on one person: Seraphina. She felt the desperate stare of the crowd, as well as the eyes of her mother, her father, and the High Priest.

  Unable to bear the crushing weight of the pressure, and specifically the judgment towards her father. Seraphina pulled away from Kaelen to compose herself.

  “I...” She took a shaky breath to steady her voice. “I wish to proceed with the rite.”

  “Very well, then,” the High Priest whispered, a triumphant grin stretching his lips. He spun toward the crowds of people. “The rite will continue!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Her father, though clearly displeased, finally submitted to the pressure of everyone. He turned his back on the celebration, walking to a shadowed pillar where he slid to the floor alone, a broken man seemingly at war with the world.

  "That’s good... that’s good. Let us begin at once." Her mother wasted no time. She seized Seraphina’s arm, her grip tight with eagerness, and began dragging her toward the center. But before they could take more than a few steps, a desperate hand snagged the hem of the Duchess’s gown.

  It was Kaelen.

  Despite having been silenced earlier, Kaelen mustered the courage to speak. "Hold on, Seraphina’s unwe-"

  Smack!

  The Duchess slapped Kaelen's hand away. Casting a sharp glare, she turned her back on him and continued leading Seraphina to the center of the room.

  "She is unwell..." Kaelen mumbled, his voice pleading.

  His father, The Head General, stepped in between Kaelen and the Duchess. He didn't scold the boy but instead, he placed his hands on Kaelen's shoulder.

  "This is not our battle to fight, My son." the General said, He turned Kaelen around, steering him away from the scene.

  One step. Two steps. Three. Time warped, stretching into a meticulous slow motion. The crowd’s cheers reverberated inside Seraphina’s skull, mingling with the sight of the High Priest’s predatory grin and her mother’s manic eagerness.

  She glanced backward as she saw Kaelen being dragged away by the General. Nearby, her own father sat slumped against a pillar, hollow, and weak. The most powerful man in the house was reduced to a ghost of himself. Even his own personal guards, men who trembled at his command, now averted their eyes, too afraid of the priesthood to offer him a hand.

  Seraphina squeezed her eyes shut as she reached the center of the hall. The torches along the walls were extinguished one by one, until the hall was plunged into complete darkness, except for a single, dramatic spotlight beaming down upon her.

  Seraphina opened her eyes, and the shadows around her seemed to take shape. Strangers stepped out from the dark. As figures hidden behind porcelain masks, their painted smiles twisted into mocking grins and horrifying laughter.

  To her left, a bloated nobleman leered, clutching two girls young enough to be his daughters. To her right, a lean, lanky woman in tattered silk guzzling wine, spilling it down her chest. Behind them stood what appeared to be a young pale maiden in white dress, her face frozen in a wide, unnatural smile, her eyes two soulless pits of void-black darkness.

  Finally, she looked up to see Marin standing on the balcony above, overlooking the scene.

  Seraphina locked eyes with Marin. But before hope could take root, a shadow fell over her.

  The High Priest slid into her vision, a wall of gold-threaded robe eclipsing the balcony completely. Marin was gone. The world shrank down to the Priest's face, the pores of his skin, the madness in his eyes. He leaned in close, his breath smelling of alcohol.

  "Focus, child," he whispered. "Your eyes should be on the gods, not the mortals." He gently said to her before turning around to the crowd.

  The High Priest kissed his fingertips before raising his arms toward the ceiling.

  "I welcome you, the faithful, to the Rite of the Duke's precious daughter... Seraphina!" he bellowed. The room shook with thunderous, almost frantic applause.

  The High Priest let the noise die down, then began to prowl around the edge of Seraphina. He looked at the crowd. "But, as you all just witnessed... the Duke has done the unthinkable."

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  "He used dark magic!" a noble shouted from the back.

  The High Priest's face twisted instantly from a grin to a serious glare. He stopped pacing and stalked toward the noble who had shouted, leaning in close to his face before his usual grin returned.

  "You are mistaken, my son," he said softly.

  The man stammered, his voice trembling. "B-but his magic... it was golden."

  The High Priest closed his eyes and turned his back on the man for a moment of silence. Suddenly, he spun back around, his face contorted with rage.

  "YOU FOOL!" he screamed, before marching frantically back to the center of the hall.

  "Golden magic is not a curse! It symbolizes the divine power of our Goddess Dyssia!" The crowd murmured in confusion, but the Priest ignored them, lost in his performance.

  "Do you not see? The Duke is blessed!" He darted behind Seraphina, his fingers digging into her cheeks. He wrenched her mouth open, forcing her into a grotesque, painful smile. "And just as the Duke was chosen, so is this child!"

  "This land was given a blessing, not a curse! That is why the D’arden family was forged to purge the evil, savage sub-species like the Dark Elves!" He shrieked the final words, flecks of saliva flying from his mouth in his fanaticism.

  "And those who dare oppose the will of Dyssia shall be smited... purged from the very soil of this land!"

  His pupils vibrated in their sockets, manic and unseeing. His fingers dug deep into Seraphina’s face, the pressure so intense it felt as though he were trying to crush her face. Then, just as abruptly as he had grabbed her, he let go.

  Stepping away from the trembling Seraphina, the High Priest moved to the edge of the light.

  "You see, my children? Do not fear the gold. Gold is the physical manifestation of Dyssia's magic! And look at the bounty she provides..."

  With a flourish, he threw open his outer coat. He reached into the lining of his robes and withdrew handfuls of golden chains, coins, and jewels, scattering them into the air like feed for chickens.

  The reaction was instant and the fear evaporated, replaced by greed. Men, women, and children threw themselves onto the floor, clawing and fighting over the trinkets. They scrambled on their hands and knees toward the Priest, clutching their prizes while weeping and begging for forgiveness for ever doubting him.

  The High Priest watched in silence until the scrambling crowd returned to their knees. From the shadows, a hooded monk emerged, presenting a chalice filled with a dark crimson wine.

  The Priest took it, his face softening into a genuine smile as he turned to Seraphina. "Drink, child," he urged, offering the cup.

  She hesitated, reaching out with trembling fingers. But the instant her skin grazed the cold glass, the Priest’s demeanor snapped. He crushed his hands over hers, forcing her fingers to curl tight around the stem of the chalice as the wine spilled over.

  "This chalice holds the lifeblood of the Old God," this voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "To consume it is to purge the past and bind your soul to the new All-Mother, Dyssia. So... drink." His hands finally softened, leaving Seraphina alone to hold the heavy glass.

  Seraphina held the wine close to her chest. She glanced at her mother, receiving a sharp nod of approval, before turning her gaze down to the wine where her own reflection stared back.

  She slowly raised the chalice to her lips and began to drink. Nearby, her father looked away, ashamed that he could not protect his daughter.

  Seraphina drained the last drop. A sudden numbness seized her limbs, her fingers went weak, and the heavy chalice slipped from her grasp, shattering loudly against the stone floor.

  Seraphina’s world dissolved. The room, the crowd, and everything vanished, consumed by a blinding light.

  I opened my eyes to an endless void of light.

  I was not alone. A few steps away, a girl sat hunched on the nonexistent floor, her shoulders shaking with sobs. I approached slowly, lowering myself to sit beside her. I had no words to offer as she wept, but I sensed that my silent presence was enough to comfort her.

  An endless white void... how familiar, I thought to myself. Eventually, the girl leaned her head against my torso, her weeping fading into a quiet sullenness.

  I placed my right hand on her head, patting her gently.

  "I wish I was more like you," she whispered, sniffing back her tears. "You remind me of my dad, but you aren't as scary."

  She looked up, her eyes red from crying. "What is your name, Mister?"

  "I... do not have a name anymore."

  "Then what did people call you before?"

  I hesitated, my voice catching for a moment before I answered.

  "V... Viper."

  "Viper? Like a snake?" The girl let out a weak chuckle.

  "Yes. Like a snake."

  "Wow..." She looked up at me with wide eyes. "That’s so cool."

  "What is so cool about a snake?" I asked, genuinely baffled. To me, snakes symbolize killers and predators.

  "I used to dream about two snakes," she murmured. "They told me I was one of them."

  "One of them? What do you mean?"

  "After Mr. Kibby died, I became very sad, so they would come to me in my sleep. And when I woke up... I wouldn't feel sad anymore."

  "What did these snakes look like?"

  "They were beautiful," she whispered. "One had scales of bronze, and the other was a deep, earthen brown."

  "I see..."

  "Mister Viper?"

  "Yes?"

  "I feel... very tired now." She curled up, resting her head on my lap.

  I gently caressed her hair. As I touched her, a heavy fog settled over my own mind.

  "Could you take care of me... while I sleep?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  "I will. Goodnight, Seraphina."