“How is he?”

Godien feels the soft pressure of Saint Naomhan’s hand across his eyelids, followed by the familiar burning sensation of the man's gift. He grits his teeth. No pain, no gain, as the commoners say. He just needs to power through it. 

He can do this.

Five long seconds pass as Godien’s knuckles turn paler than the spring’s white brick walls, his digits tightly wrapped around the soul stone. He resists the urge to try and blink away the pain or squeeze his eyes as shut as they can go—it’ll only make the burn worse. He has to endure it. He needs to endure it. It’s always worth it in the end, it will all be over soon—

The pain is gone.

Saint Naomhan withdraws his hand.

Godien tentatively reopens his eyes—ow—he winces. Since when has the sacred spring been this bright? Godien blinks up a teary storm as Saint Naomhan turns to face the Holy Father with a literal glowing smile. He squints to try and diffuse some of the light,

"He’ll be alright—it’s just a mild light burn and a few scratches from the glass," Saint Naomhan says, moving into a more comfortable position—he turns to Godien, "How're you feeling?"

Godien shivers. Now that his eyes aren't screaming for mercy, the fact that he's sitting sopping wet in the middle of a cold stone floor is… really starting to sink in. Great. He loves being cold. 

He sneezes into his right sleeve. Eugh—he'd better not catch an illness from this.

"Honestly?" Godien sneezes again, "I feel very... wet."

Saint Naomhan raises his brow.

"Congratulations, your highness,” he drones, “Water is indeed wet when you’re covered in it.”

"Naomhan," Father Faolan scolds, his tone a clear warning to the Saint.

Saint Naomhan turns his head just far enough so the Holy Father can't see him pull a face. He glances at Godien—shoots him a conspiratorial wink. He then turns back to the Holy Father with his serene, saintly smile slotted right back into place as if nothing had ever happened.

"My apologies, your highness," Saint Naomhan says, the jewels on his headdress clattering against one another as he tilts his head to the side, "I meant to ask after your health. How're you feeling?"

Godien snorts, "Much better, thank you."

Both the Saint and the Holy Father sigh in relief—though Saint Naomhan seems more relieved to have escaped the Holy Father's wrath than anything else. Godien… isn’t going to think too hard about that one.

Godien squints as he watches Father Faolan perform a quick prayer under the harsh sunlight. The man is practically glowing as he holds his clasped hands to his chest and mumbles under his breath. 

It would be an ethereal sight if the suns weren’t determined to burn the image onto his literal retinas and undo all of the Saint’s hard work. He squeezes his eyes shut again. Saint Naomhan’s ability isn’t without its drawbacks—thank the Lord and Lady his injury wasn’t any worse. 

He’ll never forget the time the Saint healed his broken leg. Godien shudders—three months of pain crammed into a single hour of healing… even Death itself would weep.

The Holy Father sighs in frustration.

Godien gulps and clutches the damaged stone a little tighter to his chest.

"Thank you, Naomhan," Father Faolan says in a measured tone—he folds his hands behind his back and turns his gaze back to the prince, "Godien, while I am very glad that you are unharmed, I must ask—where is the soul stone?"

Saint Naomhan gives Godien's shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Godien's fingers tremble as he offers his clasped hands towards the Holy Father. His movements are slow and hesitant as he cracks them open to reveal what's inside. The soul stone sits between the palms of his hands—the large crack running down the centre as prominent as the water dripping down Godien's face.

To say that the Holy Father looks horrified would be... an understatement.

Godien resists the urge to hide the stone away as Father Faolan clasps a hand over his mouth and turns to face the wall in shock. Nausea swirls in Godien’s gut as the Holy Father’s shoulders visibly shake. He’s really done it now.

"Leave us."

The knight and clergymen don't need to be told twice. They quietly exit the room. 

Saint Naomhan gives Godien's shoulder one final squeeze before he too gets up and follows the others out into the hall. He shoots Godien an encouraging wink before closing the door behind him, leaving the prince alone with the Holy Father once and for all.

Godien's fingers twitch against the surface of the cracked stone.

Holy water steadily trickles from the base of the marble Lord and Lady statue into the shallow moat surrounding the room.

Godien swallows against his dry throat.

The silence is deafening.

"What happened, Godien?" Father Faolan’s tone is measured. 

He still hasn't turned around.

"Well—uhm, the thing is—" Godien starts—stops—stumbles over his words, "I don't—know?"

Father Faolan says nothing.

Godien wrings his hands around the stone in his lap.

"Well—it's not that I don't know, it's more that I—don't know why?" Godien continues, shoving a particularly annoying strand of hair between his ear and lower right horn, "I was just praying and I got—I finished early, but I didn't want to just leave—so, I might’ve gotten—a bit bored?"

Silence.

"I just—I don't know why, but then the soul stone started... glowing—as in, proper glowing—and I just... I might’ve panicked—a tiny bit," he rambles, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles around the deep crack in the stone.

Father Faolan stays silent for another long beat.

He turns around, his expression carefully blank, “It started glowing?”

Godien nods—his neck protests the sudden movement. He winces.

Father Faolan frowns, “You’re certain about this?”

"Yeah—yes," Godien says, pulling himself to his feet while being mindful of the wet stone floor below, “It was subtle at first and look, then—suddenly there was a sun in my face, so I kind of just..." he fiddles with the stone, "I might've panicked a little and—how was I supposed to know it'd crack like that? Isn't it supposed to be a rock? I only smacked it like... three or four times—maybe five, but still!"

Father Faolan watches him with an unreadable gaze.

Godien sighs and turns his eyes to the floor, "I didn't... mean to break it. I'm... sorry."

He tentatively offers the soul stone to the Holy Father, who takes it into his hands. He looks down at the stone with an unreadable expression... before closing his palms around it and clutching it to his chest. 

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Father Faolan replies with a deep sigh—his expression hardens and he adopts a sterner tone, “You know that I need to tell your father about this.”

Godien’s vision blurs—he blinks it away, "I… I know. It’s just—"

"I don’t doubt that you had nothing to do with... activating the stone. Nevertheless, you still chose to desecrate one of our most sacred spaces out of boredom," Father Faolan interjects, "That's not okay, Godien. Were you anyone else… many have been returned to the soil for lesser crimes."

The Holy Father breaks eye contact for a long moment. 

He looks at the soul stone with remorse.

"I do not wish to see you harmed, your highness, but this cannot go unpunished," he continues in a sombre tone, "You will be confined to your chambers until further notice."

“What, no—” Godien balks.

“Do not interrupt me, child,” Father Faolan snaps, "Intentional or not, you have damaged a sacred gift of the Gods—you are very lucky that they have not struck you down where you stand."

Godien locks his jaw and breaks eye contact, turning his gaze to the floor. He glares at the intricate mosaic arrangement of the prayer platform.

The Holy Father sighs and moves to pinch his brow.

"I beg of you, please repent for this sin and serve the penance, Godien," he says after a long beat, "The High King's wrath will be nothing compared to that of the Gods'."

Godien swallows against the dryness in the back of his throat and nods. 

He can't bring himself to look up as Father Faolan places a firm, yet gentle hand on his left shoulder. He wants to be upset—he is upset, but…it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. Godien blinks away the excess moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes. 

The Holy Father gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Let's get you back to your chambers," he says after a long beat, gently pulling Godien toward the prayer room's only exit, "Punishment aside, you're quite in need of a change of clothes."

Godien resists the urge to react, lest he end up sobbing or cursing out the Gods who technically didn’t but still technically did get him into this mess.

He nods, takes a deep breath and lets Father Faolan lead him out of the room.