"Abel, we must speak."

I startled when Saul suddenly entered, asking after me. For a brief moment, I remained frozen beneath his dark gaze. Afraid that he might have heard or seen something, I studied him carefully—until he raised an eyebrow, urging me to respond. I shook my head to pull myself together, aware that Saul would have reacted very differently had he witnessed any of this, and I joined him without sparing Patriarch Seriel a glance.

I longed for his departure, even if it meant seeing Enoch leave with him. He was far too dangerous to remain nearby. Nothing good could come of it.

Ahead of me, Saul led me to his study. He opened the door and invited me inside. I had to force myself not to stop short when I saw Patriarch Domiel still present. I had been summoned by Saul, into a room where my lineage Patriarch stood. This could not bode well.

Had Saul finally grown weary of my behavior? Was he going to give me to someone else?

The thought terrified me.

"Abel, my boy, sit down," Patriarch Domiel invited.

The only available seat was right beside him. I took it, intimidated.

I had met very few Patriarchs in my life. I had seen some during events held throughout The Haulieux Season, but always from afar. Bearers had no reason to converse with them—except their own lineage Patriarch, for matters of household or partners—and aside from the Age of Initiation and the Age of Consecration, it almost never happened.

That said, I could tell that what my lineage Patriarch emanated was different.

Perhaps it was his advanced age and the wisdom that seemed to radiate from him. I had only ever seen and felt that with him. At his side, I felt neither the courage nor the desire to be imperfect. He embodied everything I imagined a Patriarch to be, in all his splendor. Seriel could not compare to him—may God forgive me. He was too young. Patriarch Domiel possessed age and experience, attentiveness and kindness, or at least as much as a Patriarch could possess… for in the end, even he had been powerless when it came time to defend me.

But I resented him in a different way.

"You look pale, my boy. Your hands are trembling and… they’re ice-cold," Patriarch Domiel observed, his hand resting over mine.

His hands were large, worn, yet steady. I dared to glance up at him. Truthfully, I felt unwell. My head spun as though I had just stepped off a carousel, and nausea clenched my chest and throat. I felt on the verge of vomiting at any moment, but in front of Saul and the Patriarch, I merely smiled.

"Just a bit of dizziness," I lied.

The gaze of both men sharpened upon me, and for several long seconds, I believed they would see straight through me; that they were waiting for me to confess on my own the wrongdoing of Patriarch Seriel. I felt myself buckle beneath the weight of the lie, to the point where another wave of dizziness struck me, and I thanked the heavens for being seated at that moment.

"It won’t take long," Saul assured. "We won’t beat around the bush. Abel, it has been eight years since your terrible sin; eight years since you last saw the light of the Society and its blessings."

"Tell me, my boy—how do you envision the rest of your existence?"

I lifted a doubtful gaze toward the Patriarch. What did he mean?

"I… I’m not sure I understand."

His hand tightened around mine.

"You are twenty-six years old, Abel. To the Society, you are already considered an old bachelor. Your body bears the marks of a sin you paid for with your flesh, one the Society will never forget. And yet, your beauty has led the seeders to request that you still be given to them despite all this."

I recoiled. Mercy… mercy… no… I shook my head. My God, I beg you…

"It is still early for that, for I know you are suffering."

The Patriarch’s hand rose to my cheek, and as he caressed it with a look reserved only for the children of his lineage, Saul continued.

"Yet it is time for you to return to the right path. Patriarch Domiel and I are in agreement regarding the announcement that will follow."

Saul was… uncomfortable. I could see it in his dark eyes, which avoided mine as they never had before. My heart thundered in my ears, because I realized—because I knew what was coming—yet I prayed. I prayed with all my soul that it would not be true. My lips crushed together under the weight of grief and terror that roared and begged to escape. But I held on.

"Abel, of the Domiel lineage, born of Simon Domiel and Saul Raguel, it has been agreed that you shall henceforth be placed under the temporary guardianship of Seriel, one of the Fathers of the Society, Patriarch of the Seriel lineage, for the entirety of The Haulieux Season."

I felt as though the sky itself had collapsed upon my aching skull; as though angels’ trumpets had shattered my ears; as though the Horsemen of the Apocalypse themselves had come to claim me and unleash every torment upon me. I would have preferred that—one thousand times, endlessly, in an infinite loop if necessary. Anything. Everything. But not this.

"No…"

My voice was… nothing but an echo. I barely heard it, just as I barely heard Saul reciting The Codex of Virtues in a flat, monotone voice.

"No."

Louder.

"No!"

I dropped to my knees before my Patriarch. I trapped his hands in mine and pressed them to my cheeks.

"I beg you… I beg you! You said you believed me… You said you wanted to protect me. You promised me!"

I tried to scream as loudly as I could, hoping that maybe then they would understand, that they would take my words and my wishes into account. I hoped I was not tainted. I hoped my tears were not, and that my Patriarch’s hands would remain pure. I prayed for him to spare me.

"I don’t want to live through that again. I beg you, father. Please. Have mercy on me…"

"Abel."

I shook my head fiercely, keeping his hands anchored to my cheeks. Behind me, I could feel Saul’s hands trying to make me let go. And he succeeded. I was torn from our father, and Saul’s arms wrapped around me like serpents, like chains meant to keep me captive.

"You promised!" I screamed with all the strength I had left. "You promised you would never give me to another! You said I could return here and remain! Your word means nothing!"

And I was sinning—I knew it. “He who doubts the Patriarch doubts the very Origin,” said The Codex of Virtues, but my heart hurt too much. I struggled in Saul’s arms as he did his best to restrain me. I could see nothing, hear nothing. Nothing mattered but my fear. I didn’t want this anymore. I didn’t want to live through it again.

I could no longer endure sleepless nights, thighs slick with blood, wondering whether it was normal to feel such pain, whether it was my fault. I didn’t want to bite my tongue until it bled, nearly severing it out of fear of saying the wrong word. I didn’t want to wake in sweat-soaked sheets, staring at the wall or the ceiling. I didn’t want to skulk along the walls anymore, terrified of when the next blow—moral or physical—would fall.

Please, Lord… My God, I beg you…

"I… I’ll do anything," I gasped as my breath failed me. "I promise I’ll be… wiser… I won’t sin again… I’ll be a good bearer for… for this household…"

Please… Lord… my father…

"Please, father… you… you promised."

But around me, everything lost its color, its scent, its sound. It was complete darkness—nothingness. And once again, I prayed that it would be death, for I knew it: anything would be kinder than the fate that still awaited me.