The crows cawed, and the bazaar became so silent that a pin dropping could be heard. All doors were closed, and only the artificial lights above the posts aided those rushing home. The blue sky became dark, painted with streaks of gold hue and red as soon as the sun set. The cool night air caressed the doors and windows, knocking as if a person—asking to be let in. The area was empty and deserted, with no shadows left other than those two—Chris and Leila. 

“This is the first time I walked by myself at night,” she spoke, eyes filled with awe and wonder. 

Chris’ face could not be said the same; he was tense. His eyebrows slightly furrowed, and he tightly held the cross necklace that hung from his neck. He subconsciously rubbed it—his nervous tick.

“I see. You know we don’t really recommend walking out here at this time alone,” he spoke, his voice a murmur. Chris would never get used to the drastic change of atmosphere every time night falls to Archeko. 

Perhaps history continued to claw its way to the hearts of those who reside in Archeko: the murderers, the mystery disappearances and deaths of people will never be forgotten—it will continue to etch itself beneath their skins, branding them with fear and distrust. 

“But there’s really nothing scary here—I think people are just so hung up about the past that they refuse to let go of it, isn’t it about time to let our town flourish?” Leila insisted. She stopped walking then turned around to face Chris. Looking up at him, she placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t you agree?”

Chris let out a half-hearted laugh, “Young miss… the world is not so kind, before or even now. You cannot blame the adults who are only trying to protect you.”

“But how would someone like me grow if I will always be protected? It doesn’t make sense. Why are people so scared of something human? It is not even supernatural. If it's monsters, then I’m scared! But humans you can talk to them, they have reasoning.” 

Chris sighed, “You will grow fine, because humans can do something more dangerous and crazier compared to those monsters—monsters act upon reasoning, for example they are hungry.

“But humans? Yes, humans, you can reason… but because of that, there could be multiple reasons why they want to commit something.” He answered, firmly. His grip on the cross necklace tightening as he continued to rub it. His eyes scanned the area, then his pace picked up.

“Father, wait up! I-I can’t walk that fast!” Leila gasped behind him, struggling to keep up. Her knees almost buckled and sweat pooled around her face as she groaned. Chris soon realised this and he walked back to her. 

“Shall I carry you on my back so we can get home easier?”

“I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea!” argued Leila with a huff as she walked a little faster compared to before. Thud, thud, thud, mixed with the ominous cawing of crows kissed their ears from time to time. That made the hair on Chris’ back rise—not because of what Leila said, but because of what he heard. 

Whispers. 

Non-stop whispers. Words murmured in native tongue. In Latin, almost. He stood still, eyes closed. Everything seemed to be spinning around him, the whispers getting louder and louder, like the gradual booming of a trumpet. He soon snapped out of it and let out  a breath he did not know he held back. 

Leila looked at him with her eyebrows raised, “Geez, sorry if what I said seems to be so offending enough for you to almost feel like you’re gonna pass out.”

Chris felt lightheaded. Like he was in the air, floating. He just let out an empty laugh, his hands finding their way on the cross that hung on his neck once again.

They soon resumed walking, his heart regulated itself as they moved away from the area, and returned to its normal rhythm. 

“It’s not that, sometimes—”

“Oh, we’re here!” Leila forced out a grin as she knocked on the wooden door. “Mama Nana, I’m home! Sorry it took a while. Don’t worry about Matthias, he will be home soon. Henry is with him!” She deliberately left out the part that Matthias was currently in the dungeon, accused of crimes he did not commit.

Chris' eyes wandered and saw signage. Summer Orphanage. The words were written in bold, cursive writing. It’s situated above the house itself.

The orphanage was surrounded by a fence, with a gate as the entrance. In the front yard was a small field of herbs and greenery—it looked homely.

But he could not help but feel uneasy. Something—something in his gut was screaming—prancing around at him to look around. But soon his attention snapped towards the door as it squeaked open, revealing a woman in her thirties, worry etched in her face. 

“Leila, I’m so glad you’re home!” she hugged the younger woman tightly however Chris failed to realise that…

Mama Nana was delighted that her finest meat had come back.

Of course, who wouldn’t be delighted? Her grip on Leila tightened, burying her face on the woman’s neck as she sniffed—which earned her a giggle from Leila. 

The smell of roses and other delicate flowers nuzzled against Chris’ nose which made him sneeze. Combined with the cold winter night and his normal priest clothes—he knew he would not last tonight. Mama Nana, perhaps sensing his worry, pulled away from Leila and let her inside. The maiden rushed inside to her room, soon disappearing from both of the adult’s eyes. 

“Why don’t you come in, Father Chris?” Nana’s voice was so sweet and sickening, causing Chris to briefly frown for a minute. He replaced that as quickly—he showed off his kindest, and softest smile.

“I’d love to, if you’d let me in, Nana.”

“Of course.”

The Trumpet that Chris kept shone, the light slightly spilling from his pockets. Thankfully, his priest robe was darker in hue and was made with thick cotton wool material thus, Nana was unable to see it. 

There was one thing for sure—one of the Trumpets was here, in this place, tucked away somewhere. Chris’ resolution strengthened as he walked behind Nana, clutching his cross. The oak door grated against wood, grinding against it then, it let out a screech with a thud. 

It was just two of them now. 

“Harry is my grandchild, Young Lord Henry. The fact that he was found almost dead by this young man named Matthias must not be a coincidence, I believe. Thus I am unwilling to just release him until he spits out something.” Harold, the attendant of  Archeko’s town hall, said. His voice sharp and cold, his hands clasped together on top of  his legs as Henry sat across him with the same annoying lazy smirk of his. 

“So he’s currently alive. How lucky for him. How’s his condition?”

“Alive, barely. He’s not speaking. He’s always staring into space, as if his soul has spirited away,” replied the attendant. 

Henry stretched. He leaned against his seat, made of red leather with gold rim to highlight its beauty. It matched his own demeanour—highlighting his golden hair and violet suit that was rimmed with gold. 

“I see… I could try helping you, if you would let Matthias go.” He directly looked at the old man, a glint of mischief well hidden beneath his eyes. 

“You’re that far willing to go for that orphan? Is he that special to you?”

Henry paused, unable to immediately give a reply. That one question made his brain churn in contemplation. 

He was unable to directly answer.

What was the reason why he was so kind to Matthias? He doesn't know. However, there was one thing that he knew: if he let Matthias stay in the dungeon—his heart would continue to ache  and his throat would soon tighten, at the  mere thought of the young man in pain. 

“...you don’t need to know the reason, you aren’t my dad.”

Harold scoffed, “Clearly, I don’t remember having a child so disobedient like you.” 

Henry sighed, as he combed through his hair, “Five hundred Koras, and a recommendation to the church to try and heal your grandchild. Will that suffice?”

Harold’s gaze deepened, “1,000 koras and the recommendation.”

“Good choice—I’m sure that the church will be of greater help compared to the doctors. It doesn’t seem to be an ailment but rather a brain disease,” Henry replied. 

“Brain disease? Tell me about it,” the attendant adjusted himself, now leaning closer to him with great interest.