Day 2: Year C-009.

"...Whether you like it or not, we need to leave the Temple this instant-”

The Priestess scowled at the surgeon's words and cut off his sentence by placing her hand over her heart.

“Nay! I refuse to vacate my duties as a Priestess! Our Temple's prestige is already in shambles, and you desire us to behave like hooligans who disrespect our beloved Deities?” Zanna let out a solemn sigh and clasped her aching head.“... Then again, we might have slain this person-"

"That was not a person!" Mikey interrupted, his hat mildly shaking. The choir boy reopened his mouth with a slightly more patient tone. "...Turning into fog in Death's embrace is unheard of. We slowly turn to ash when we die, remember?"

"You are correct, Mikey. W-We did not fatally injure someone." Zanna held her shaking hand over her rapidly beating heart; the idea of abandoning her life’s work led to uneven breathing. Her face paled as Chenille offered their hand, to no response.

"Splendid, now with this debate concluding, may we please leave?! Just because we did not kill someone does not mean we are secure! An assassin nearly took our lives!" Billiam impatiently warned, his hat fidgeting with worry.

“B-But!-”

Chenille stepped forward and looked at their fellow staff members with a serious, yet well-meaning expression.

“Lady Zanna, as the sworn-in Temple Guard, I vowed to protect this place and the staff from serious harm. Our circumstances seem to have changed, and we have to jump ship to remain alive. The most I can do is protect you and the staff, my Lady. Under my dedicated watch, no one shall dare take your life or our staff’s lives.”

Chenille offered their hand to the Priestess and gently held hers. Zanna’s eyes sparkled before she quietly turned away and longingly gazed at the pale moonlight and pale blue stars of the dark sky above.

“...Very well, please carry me then. This place was our sanctuary, and I request you gently whisk me away from here,” Zanna gently wept, “You could not comprehend my feelings-”

Chenille immediately picked up Zanna and threw her over their shoulder.

“Excuse me! Not like this-”

As footsteps echoed through the Temple, the four escapees dashed toward the altar’s door to flee. However, the procedures instantly changed once the wooden door was sliced down by the same assassin they had just taken down. The mysterious intruder pointed a knife directly at the group, getting ready to leap into action. In unison, everyone’s eyes widened with terror.

“RUN!”

Mikey cried out as Chenille back-flipped toward Verde Street’s back wall and punched a hole to lead the group toward the hazy, cold outdoors. The Temple Guard wrapped their string magic around the new mysterious intruder's neck and slammed the assailant to the floor.

Billiam yanked the Temple Guard away and caught up with the other two, who were swiftly shuffling along the alleyways, huddling against the walls for safety. The fog constructed their vision, whereas Billiam silently tapped Zanna’s shoulder and gestured that he could easily usher the group to safety. Despite trusting Billiam, the Priestess still held a lingering dread within her mind.

The medic’s working eye glimmered in the moonlight as he led the former Temple Staff to the outskirts of the city, where the streets looked more barren than Verde Street. Some of these streets did not have dedicated Temples, only undersized apartments and even more undersized markets. Thus was the way of life for the Streets of Eight Point Way, Emeralda, and Fortified.

In total silence, the group observed their silent surroundings until they were led to the back of a small establishment.

Billiam glanced around, silently opened the trash can, and pointed for the group to go down the rather foul garbage chute. Chenille immediately stepped in without hesitation and slid down. Mikey was apprehensive, but closed his eyes and hopped in after Chenille.

“Billiam, are you expecting me to -”

The medic profusely nodded and gestured to remain quiet and on route to escaping.

Zanna was outwardly disgruntled but complied with Billiam’s instructions.

Soon, the four lay at the bottom of the chute and examined the dim corridors.

This was Grand Island’s underground sewer system. The freezing walls were made of brick, the grey waters reeked of garbage, and most unsettling of all, unlike the surface, there were no traces of magic. During summer, these halls would be nearly filled to the roof with rather disgusting water. Luckily, during winter months, the water levels were at an all-time low. 

The atmosphere gave off an uneasy, cold air that the Priestess was most unfamiliar with.

The choir boy shuffled close to Chenille and nervously held onto their torn winter coat. Billiam yawned out of ennui as his injured eye flicked light before going out. He then chuckled and tossed his fake glasses into the dirty water. Before Zanna could gracefully lift herself from the cold, murky ground, Chenille swiftly lifted the Priestess into their arms and did not let go.

“I cannot let that happen, My Lady. Magic is prohibited here at all costs.”

“We cannot use it, period. Unless you’d prefer our position to be compromised and all of us to be in grave danger.”

The Priestess knew something was wrong from Chenille's unexpectedly stern demeanour.

“Chenille, I must be informed of exactly where this is and why you are implying using magic will succumb us to our dooms-”

“Spoiled woman, are you not?” Billiam spun around and grinned with great impatience, “We do not use magic here, so the Royal Guards or anyone who works closely with them cannot track us so easily. Honestly, Zanna, that is the most basic rule of hiding from the law. You use your wit, not magic.”

The medic pointed to his head in a pretentious manner, smirking as the Priestess’ confused expression turned ever so slightly sour.

“I beg your pardon? You believe I am spoiled?!” Zanna was flabbergasted and shook her head, “...And what is with your voice? Why do you sound like that?”

“You see. It’s called faking an accent. Duh! And yes, I declare you are indeed spoiled. A pampered, stubborn Priestess who has no clue about what is transpiring in her surroundings. I only helped out because while I believe my time spent with you was mediocre, I despise the Royals far more, and the enemy of the Royals is a temporary ally of mine.”

"...Enemy of the Royals?" Zanna whispered as a chill was sent down her fragile spine.

“Billiam, go easy on her. Naive as she is, the rude comment was unnecessary.” Chenille huffed but then grinned at Billiam, “... Not to mention, you came from a renowned father who once held high status-”

“Chenille. Let’s not go there.” Billiam grunted, his orange eye glowered with frustration.

“I won't if you stop being such a prickly hypocrite-”

"Bah! Major asshat alert-"

“Enough! Please, I have had it up to here with the ridiculously childish banter,” Zanna sighed in defeat and looked away with contempt. “This is incredibly embarrassing. We are meant to survive that assassin, yet we have no chemistry with each other. One would think our group to be in sync by now after a few months with you two and four years with Mikey-”

“I wouldn’t think so...” The choir boy peeked from behind Chenille. “...We’re not employed by the Temple anymore, right?"

The other three escapees slowly nodded, though there was clear hesitation with Zanna.

 "May I say what’s on my mind?” He shyly requested.

“Go right ahead, Mikey.” Zanna nervously voiced, wondering what the ever-so-shy choir boy would have to say at a dire moment like this.

“Billiam was always putting up facades. His vocal inflections changed whenever he muttered to himself, and his tone was always unserious when he got on your good side. I’m surprised you couldn't notice, Zanna."

Billiam didn't hold back his chuckling and attempted to pat Mikey on the head.

“Aha, so you are not an oblivious bookworm, after all!-”

The choirboy smacked away the sly medic's hand and hissed at him.

“No one was talking to you. Shut the hell up!” Mikey snapped and turned his focus to the shocked Priestess, “Zanna. You are incredibly devoted to those Royal monsters; it's frustrating. Despite your sentiments toward Lucian, you would go floating back to the Temple if the people of Verde Street gave you a pardon!”

Zanna could not refute the accusations and only stared with disappointment.

“Do you have any problems with me?” Chenille asked out of curiosity to slightly lighten the mood.

“...Just stop chewing tobacco leaves. Your breath reeks of ashes.”

“That’s it?”

“Uh, I also know who you love-"

The Temple Guard dismissively waved their right hand and tried to smile.

“Alright, kid, that’s enough. Keep that information on the down low,” 

“Hah...” Billiam chuckled to himself, “Who knew the choir boy had a foul mouth? He's only audible during singing practice!”

“Billiam, use your good eye and show us the way out,” Chenille grumbled.

“Hmph. Fine, Lone Wolf,”

“Mikey was right to tell you to shut up."

The four former temple workers fell silent as Billiam cautiously led the group toward their destination. The cautious medic remained vigilant and pressed his slender hands against the cold, brick walls, carefully scoping the darkened and damp area with his one good eye.

Chenille continued to carry the Priestess with a tired expression, hoping the medic remembered the underground route. Zanna’s mind repeated the choir boy’s cold words to her, wondering why he despised the Royals in the first place.

Meanwhile, Mikey felt unnerved and held onto his choir boy hat, knowing he had let a diminutive portion of his irritation out in that moment. He knew there was so much more to say, though he was cautious and ultimately decided to keep his mouth shut. He could only glare forward as Billiam and the other two turned the corner.

‘No matter what anyone says, never mention your identity. You were always a choirboy in training. We are not your parents, and you’re my pen pal for entertainment purposes only. Beware of those who praise Allucia and her son, for they are blind to the truths of our Island.’

His Mother’s reminder reverberated within the recesses of his loud mind.

Meanwhile, Zanna hazily recalled something her Mother once said.

‘Those who assert they are furious with Royalty must be angry at the Goddesses, which is inherently unreasonable. The Rulers and Priestesses of Grand Island always consider what is best for our people. To reject hospitality and love is incredibly saddening and is a sign of demonic callings of the Seas. You must refuse their temptations, Zanna.’

The Priestess frowned, wondering why the dear memories of her precious Mother seemed to constantly blur and ache within her head. It wasn’t fair to the frightened and tired woman, as she silently teared up out of frustration.