Delilah made a sudden dramatic flourish with their hands, winking up at Lark. “Oh, before you go and get blessed let me properly introduce myself!” It all seemed so genuinely flirtatious he couldn’t help but blush.

“Delilah, Delilah Syere. Commanding Saint of the Phelmacitia clergy. Masculinity and femininity are my jam, none of the other stuff.”

He reached out a hand first to Winter who happily shook it. Then offered it to Lark, who hesitantly returned the formalities.

“I’m… Lark. This is my mother, Winter. You’re… head of the Saints?”

“Wonderful, wonderful. You can follow the group of folks going down the center aisle. The Pool is at the end.” Seeming pleased with herself, Delilah grinned even brighter and very obviously ignored the question.

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

With that, he turned away briskly, heading down another hallway lined with blue lights. Then, vanished in mere moments with only a flash of his scarf disappearing behind a corner. Staring after him, Lark felt a buzz in his chest. Saints, to him, always seemed like they would be cold and calculating people. He figured faking emotions would make the public more comfortable with them, so it wasn’t a surprise to how Delilah acted.

Lark felt a tug at his hand and followed after Winter, eyes still lingering towards the dark hallways of the Cathedral. A bundle of people were already heading up to the head of the congregation, some wringing their hands together in prayer. Lark looked around him at the features of the main area, yet again admiring the attention to the details of every spot in the room.

Stained glass windows splashed colors onto the floor, depicting a tragic tale of a god who gave their own self for humanity to feel happiness. With blinding protective light they defeated creatures of darkness, paving the way for people to live without fear and their own freedom. What drew your eye instantly, despite the gorgeous stone work and art, was the large chunk of crystal hoisted high above the main altar.

It glimmered in rainbow colors, light refracting through its surface and sparkling around the room. Side cut clean and angled, old rusted hooks kept it aloft with chains attached to the ceiling. The figure inside wasn’t human, obvious by their unnatural height, added limbs and feathery wings all the appearance of frosted glass. From a face in eternal slumber, tears bluer than the sky endlessly flowed from eyes closed in gentle repose. The tears traveled through the crystal to fall in a small, tight waterfall at the bottom tip into a deep, deep pool. The people had gathered around the pool, kneeling respectfully, some dipping their thumbs in to wipe the water down their own face to mimic streaked tears.

At the center of the group was a tall person with delicate but cold features watching over the procession. Their pale golden eyes roamed over the crowd, falling on each person in turn. When they fell on Lark, their gaze sent a shiver up his spine.

Beside him, Winter bowed lower than she ever had, tugging Lark’s sleeve so he bowed at least a smidgen in front of this person. She hadn’t cared about Delilah but her sudden insistence meant this person was of superior station.

“That’s Meis, the head of the entire Phelmacitia church. They’ve been blessed with longevity to guard over the cathedral.”

“What? How old are they?” Lark whispered incredulously, shocked it was just common knowledge someone was practically immortal. Seeming to be completely transfixed, Winter shook her head.

“No one knows how long they’ve lived. Even if you don’t believe me, I think they garner your respect in the regard of their status, hmm?”

Not going to argue with her about it, Lark dipped his head as the person approached. Their movements were fluid and graceful, silent along the blue carpets and stone. An age that ignored their appearance was evident in their expression.

“Ah, Winter. It’s been a long time.”

Voice hanging in the air like an icicle, calm but prone to breaking, it matched everything else about their appearance. They seemed to be entirely without color, from their hair to their skin, it was like someone had forgotten to paint on a blank canvas and published it out into the world.

Smiling politely, Winter put a hand on Lark’s shoulder. “I prefer the coziness of my town’s worship, though I hope that means no offense to your home.”

Meis smiled. “Please, none taken. Birdscall is a beautiful valley.” They lifted a hand, blue robes sliding down their wrist and showing skin like snow that criss-crossed with blue markings. Lark raised an eyebrow, surprised the head of something so important and holy would have tattoos. AFter a moment he noticed the shimmer of silver meandering about and realized those were Meis’s veins with glyph material running through them.

“What brings you here to a blessing? I remember everyone who has bathed and I recall your visit.” Gaze moving to Lark, he saw Meis wince slightly as if there was some kind of foul odor in the air.

“My son, Lark, your grace! He will be blessed today, not me.” Winter laughed in good humor, the other person mimicking the tone. Watching the exchange like a foreign entity, Lark finally felt the person’s full attention fall to him and went cold.

Something. Something was off.

It gripped his throat like the cold of water in winter, making his limbs numb.

He was prey before a predator with no escape.

“How lovely. I’m… sorry your husband never received protection, I can only assume that’s why you’ve brought Lark here today.” Words hiding an unusual bite, Meis looked Lark up and down, as if deciding what he was worth.

Winter sombered and gripped Lark more tightly. A sigh left her lips. “Yes… he’s going along with my desires even though he would rather not.”

The person raised an eyebrow. “He has no faith?”

“Yes, but that’s what it means to let your children have their independence.” Winter nodded with confidence. She had never forced Lark to do anything he didn’t want to do, but since his father’s death… That had changed. “He can do as he pleases, but he’s sweet to calm his mother’s fears.”

Another laugh and Meis didn’t agree this time. But they still smiled. “He seems like a gentle soul.”

“He can get pretty emotional about his opinions and what he likes, but yes! He’s kind.”

Willing this conversation to end, Lark stood in silence. A cold sweat dripped down his back and chilled him as he stood longer and longer next to this person.

“Then let's get on with the blessing, hmm? I’m sure you’d much rather be at home on a gorgeous day like this.” Finally the person turned away and went to stand at the head of the pool underneath the figure in the slumbering crystal, where all the soon to be blessed had also gathered.

Finally, Lark could breathe.