Joshua doesn’t look closer to study the Scions sitting at the table in the middle of the room, simply keeps looking at the podium that’s his destination. Yet, try as he might to ignore them, he keeps seeing them.

The Roses’ Scions, his and Kayla’s counterparts, are a pair of lions; all golden hair and tanned skin and light brown eyes that follow them hungrily as they walk down the room. They could be brother and sister, or cousins, or simply chosen because their resemblance makes them seem so. The other pairs are much the same. The Crosses’ deathly pale and raven-haired and blue eyed, the Wings’ ginger and freckled against their pink skin, their eyes a steely grey. The Brides seem demure, deferring to their Knights. The Knights puff out their chests in exaggerated displays for their Brides. 

There’s a uniformity to them, a lack of identity that marks them as it did the groups that came before, as well. All young and strong and brave and stupid looking. All the same, thrust into the neat little boxes the Houses put them in, all their traits so similar they could be family, none much darker than a winter rose. 

None like his mismatched group of porcelain and bronze and terracotta and more shades in between, face and body shapes so different they could never be confused for anything else than what they are: strangers thrust together. They were the first to contract with the Archons, the first to be bound through the Knight-Bride system, and, given that they were never chosen heroes to begin with, Joshua can’t help but wonder if they didn’t turn out to be the test run, the one that went wrong and is only useful as a blueprint of what mistakes not to repeat. Maybe that’s why they must remain in the city, and locked up.

To reinforce his suspicions, the other Scions keep speaking to and touching each other casually, as if they’ve always done it, as if they have never been kept apart. The small voice in Joshua’s mind grows louder, asks what goes on in the other abbeys, whether theirs is the only one that enforces such strict rules. And why? Could they really be the problem? 

The other Knight of Roses throws his arm in front of his Bride in a protective stance, right as Joshua and Kayla pass them by, a sneer spreading on his lips. Joshua swallows back the urge to kick his chair, watch him fall to the marble floor and break his nose against it, and keeps walking instead.

Stronger still is the desire to take Kayla’s hand, lace his fingers through hers, comfort her through his presence and take strength from hers. She’s trembling by his side and he doesn’t know whether it’s from suppressed rage or sadness, or both. Only that there’s a warmth emanating from her, almost like a fever, and a smell that he can’t quite place but that tells him she might suddenly start to burn and take the whole world down with her.

Still, she takes his cue when he stops before the steps and bows at the waist, gives him a small curtsy in response and walks up before him. He trails behind her, as he should, protector and partner, not owner.

The maids standing at attention behind the table pull their chairs back for them and Joshua sinks into his with relief. There are three podiums set around the room, a set of steps leading up to them, one for each House. He and Kayla took the one on the left from the main entrance, while Vivien and Darren will take the one on the right. Sarah and Matthew will be the last to enter, left to undertake the longer journey down the entire room. 

The House crests are emblazoned at the very top of each podium, curtains in their colors cascading down the sides of them; red for the House of Roses, violet for the House of Wings, blue for the House of Crosses. Long tables, far too big for only two people, are set at the center, two maids standing quiet and motionless behind them, waiting to serve the Scions. 

Satisfied with the first part of the spectacle, the guests go back to their festivities, sitting at the round tables in their finest silks, velvets, and laces, eating and drinking from delicate plates and glasses. The crystal chandeliers cast a sickly glow on them, making their faces seem pulled and gaunt, almost cadaveric. Their mouths, as they open them to let out empty words or laughs, are the maws of a skull. Their eyes, dark and distant, its empty sockets. It’s a banquet for corpses that don't have any need to eat, but like to behave like humans, nonetheless. 

Bile rises up to Joshua’s throat as he realizes the other group of Scions are playing along, their table manners impeccable, their social ones even more so. 

What could these people possibly have despaired over to willingly give their bodies over as vessels to fragments of God, in exchange for a miracle? 

He’s being unfair, he knows. People can only endure what they’ve been used to. And if their idea of an impossible wish to have granted was to get their father to notice their efforts, or something of the like, they have their right to it. He can’t relate simply because he doesn’t have a family.

Joshua looks at Kayla out the corner of his eye, notes her perfect posture against the high-backed chair. She still has a Royal’s poise, even after all these years. There was a time, when he first met her, that he mistook the education that had been beaten into her for her true self. He had thought her another dilettante, come to seek the company of the infamous poor genius boy who had earned entry into the University solely due to the kindness of a patron. But Kayla had never flinched back from the black smears of oil on his hands and face, a result of the work he still had to do to pay his ever-generous sponsor back for his tuition. She had always listened with interest and respect when he spoke, treated him like an equal and the authority he is in his field and, before he had noticed it, the very princess of their city had wormed her way into his heart. 

His old self would have either laughed at him or beaten him up for it, as well as for his friendship with Matthew, son of the leaders of the Wings’ Guild, the biggest thieves to the commoners there had ever been. But the younger Knight, too, is different from his parents, has been a victim to their flaws and, when given the choice of following in their footsteps to please them and gain their approval, or stray as far from them as humanly possible, he chose the latter.

Maybe that’s what matters, in the end, Joshua thinks. Not what you’re born as, but the choices you make with what you’re given.

Kayla hasn’t spared a glance for her parents, Joshua suddenly notices. Her attention is fully on that central table where the Scions sit, her expression inscrutable. Only when the herald announces Vivien and Darren’s names do her eyes move to follow their path, wide and sparkling, silently encouraging them all the way. 

Vivien passes through the room with cool disinterest, as if nothing in it is worthy of her notice. Meanwhile, Darren makes it a point to look around and throw a few smirks, the widest of which goes towards their fellow Scions. Joshua isn’t sure, can’t hear anything from where he’s sitting, but he thinks he sees his lips move in a whisper towards the other Crosses’ Knight that has the younger man glaring at him. 

Sarah and Matthew are called shortly after, the Bride walking as if she not only owns the room but will also fight anyone who dares put a stake on her claim. The Knight is like a black void. Deceptively calm and placid, but so full of tension he’ll blow up at the slightest touch.

Joshua almost expects Sarah to spit at the Scions as she passes them, to pull on their white lace tablecloth and send all their cutlery and tableware flying into a glorious tempest of broken glass and sharp silver. It seems she considers it, too, slows her pace as she approaches them, but then Matthew is at her side and she holds her head even higher, walks the rest of the way at a speed so brisk she’s almost running.

Across from him, Joshua sees Vivien letting out a sigh and her shoulders relaxing as the Wings’ duo finally take their seats. He almost smiles. She shouldn’t be assuming that any of the others won’t do anything foolish, just yet. He, himself, is still tempted to break a few bones in the Roses’ lion’s body, teach him that he shouldn’t pick fights with weaker-looking people. Black alley cats are much tougher than they look. 

But his chance to do what he set out to won’t come until the ceremony at the cathedral. Until then, he can only behave and hope the others will do the same, so they won’t be taken to their chambers early.

He settles back into his chair, jaw resting against his right fist, and prepares to gather as much information as he can before then.

His gaze is still wandering around, looking for someone who looks like easy prey, when he notices one of the Church’s Vicars getting up from his table, a glass of wine held between his fingers.

“It is with heavy, yet proud hearts that we gather here today to bid a short farewell to this party of heroes,” he begins. “They will be leaving the safety of our seals, to try and achieve what no one has before. May their journey be victorious.” 

Joshua holds back a scoff. What the man fails to mention is that it hasn’t been due to a lack of trying that it hasn’t been achieved. Countless have left on the Pilgrimage to find Eden and God’s Tower, yet were never seen or heard from again. Whether they are all dead or simply ran away upon being set free, no one can really tell.

“Mayhaps we can hear some encouraging words from their seniors,” the Vicar continues and Joshua’s body tenses as the man gestures towards the Scions sitting at the podiums. “The young Magnate of Wings? Ah, no, the Princess of Roses. I’m sure your brethren would be delighted to hear from you.”

To his side, Kayla freezes into a lifeless statue. And Joshua’s body fills with so much rage that he thinks he’s going to burst.