"Corpus nihil est nisi vas alienae voluntatis, in quo manet spiritus excelsus. Putrescente carne et torquentibus membris, tamen gratias agimus, quod maiestas illa superna nos respicit."
Dressed in white attire lined with gold, the priest stood in front of the small altar.
The faint scent of myrrh clung to the air, along with the warmth of the melting wax of the candles.
It was hard for Xion to see his face hidden under the hood as he prayed to the goddess, but one thing was sure.
This person was very special. Exactly how? Xion couldn't quite put his finger on.
This person was a stranger, and yet, his fingertips itched with a phantom ache to reach for that hidden person.
His heart beat just a little faster, like an invisible thread was tugging at his soul.
Even as he remained standing at the far end of the small crowd, his gaze continued to fall on the tall figure rather than the statue of Myrthia.
