Their small town of Birdscall, nestled in a nest of mountains, lived only an hour's ride away from the City of Tears. Though, it felt far shorter than usual to Lark even in Winter’s old rickety car. Every bump along the road sent jabs of discomfort up his spine. Leaving the familiar scenery behind, he watched out the window until everything completely vanished. There was so much sky with the mountain peaks gone. 

The landscape turned into rolling fields, little towns along the road looking the same as his own. Lark had a particular anxiety about the city that someone from the country often had; the buildings and people being too close together. Not to mention knowing that the looming spires of the city’s center could be seen from anywhere. Signs eventually came into view detailing distance to the city as they rode alongside train tracks, taller buildings outnumbering the shorter ones.

Tall trees outnumbered the structures, surprisingly enough, giving plentiful shade in the summer but letting their leaves fall for ample sunlight in winter. Most of the buildings were humble, made from magically reinforced colored glass and wood on stilts thanks to yearly flooding that enriched the farmlands around the area. High speed trains dove underground just before entering the outskirts, leaving room for parks and sidewalks invaded with flora. Lark shrunk down in his seat, eyes glued to the innumerable amount of people milling about outside. Cars were only allowed in a certain section of the city, leaving the rest for festivals and people.

Winter glanced at him with an eyeroll, not sharing his anxiety. “Lark, please. You can’t be so afraid of people at 29 years old.”

“Watch me.” Lark mumbled back with a scowl, making his mother sigh.

Then she reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “We can turn around.” Her voice was sincere, honest. “You don’t have to do this if you’re scared.”

Having the opposite effect on Lark, he curled up further in the car seat in stubborn silence. He wasn’t scared. And if they turned around now then he would hear from the church eventually. If some family were part of the faith then the church would sometimes bother the rest.

Finding somewhere to park the car after hearing no answer, Winter and Lark walked out of the submerged parking lot and into the city proper. It was noisy and busy, humans and demons alike hustling to and fro. Demons weren’t common where he was from thanks to a colder climate so Lark tried his best not to bump into wings and tails as he walked.

The city’s sidewalks and many of its buildings were strong glass, colored to make intricate or simple patterns and imbued with solar collecting energy. A large river ran through the center of the city with a gigantic watermill, gathering more energy with its steady turning. It was all so much to Lark, who usually enjoyed the silence of the countryside. Stimming nervously with the zipper of his sweater, he stuck close to Winter. She could scold him all she wanted; wouldn’t change a thing.

As if appearing out of thin air, the city’s main attraction at its center loomed overhead. A huge cathedral, its looming spires of blue and gold granite poking into the sky. Crystals that looked like stars were attached to gargoyles while planet systems adorned its sides. A homage to the heavens and the earth, detailed with delights of man in the shapes of birds and flowers. It was impressive, grand, its eyeless gaze searing into anyone who walked beneath it and past its doors.

As Winter and Lark walked up the large stone steps, Winter stopped at a landing halfway, putting her thumbs under her eyes and dragging them down her face as she kneeled. It was something she did every night at the small altar they had in their home. Another ritual Lark didn’t concern himself with and had no plan to.