The first light of dawn crept through the curtains like a hesitant trespasser, painting faint violet lines across the walls of Seth Virell's chamber.
He stirred awake, breath heavy, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. Dreams had clung to him like cobwebs, but their shapes dissolved the moment he tried to recall them. Only a lingering weight pressed at his temples, as though he had carried some burden too great for his frame.
With sluggish steps, Seth pushed himself out of bed. His reflection in the polished mirror looked paler than he expected. Shadows smudged beneath his eyes, and his hair clung damply to his forehead. He avoided his own gaze, turning away to splash cold water over his face in the marble basin of the adjoining bathroom. The water smelled faintly metallic, like coins soaked in night air.
By the time he dried his hands, a knock came at the door.
Three precise taps. Pause. Two more.
Seth froze for a heartbeat before forcing himself to answer. The door creaked open, revealing a maid in grey uniform, her veil drawn halfway down to hide her expression. Without a word, she wheeled in a small cart bearing silver dishes. The smell of buttered bread, smoked fish, and spiced milk filled the room.
She set the tray upon the table, curtsied, and withdrew.
Her silence lingered in Seth's mind like a shadow after she left.
He sat and forced himself to eat. The bread was soft and warm, but he barely tasted it. The smoked fish felt dense, heavy with salt that scratched his throat. Every bite seemed more mechanical than the last. He had learned, quickly, that in places like these—churches, sanctums, and corridors lined with veiled statues—the most dangerous thing one could do was look reluctant to partake.
When the final crumb was gone, another knock sounded.
This time, the door opened without hesitation.
Aldric Moraine stepped inside, his coat buttoned high, his movements brisk but never careless. His eyes—sharp, grey, touched with something Seth couldn't name—rested upon him.
"Morning," Aldric said. His voice was clipped, but not unkind. "I trust you rested?"
Seth swallowed, unsure how to answer. "…Enough."
Aldric crossed the room, hands clasped behind his back. "Good. Then you should prepare yourself. The envoys will soon arrive."
The words fell with the weight of a bell toll, reverberating through Seth's ribs.
"Envoys?" His voice cracked slightly. "So soon?" He forced a short, nervous laugh. "The Moonlight District is… very far, isn't it? How can they already—"
Aldric's gaze cut into him, halting his words.
"The distance of men is not the distance of those who carry the mantle of the Verse," he said evenly. "A letter sent by mortal courier would take weeks. A letter sanctified by seal, bound in prayer, and carried upon the current of divine will—" His lips curved faintly, though it was no smile. "—arrives in but a night. Just the power of a Divine Ascendant. There is no need for me to explain more than that."
Seth's throat went dry. He lowered his eyes to hide the flicker of fear that ran across them. A Divine Ascendant's hand has already touched my fate. What chance do I have?
Aldric continued, tone softening. "Until they arrive, you may walk about the church grounds. Familiarize yourself with them if you wish. But—" His voice sharpened slightly. "Do not leave the premises."
Seth forced his lips to curve into something resembling compliance. "Of course."
Aldric inclined his head and turned, his footsteps retreating with deliberate calm. The door closed with a muted thud, leaving Seth once more in silence.
He sat for a long moment, staring at the silver plate still holding crumbs of bread. Envoys… Inspect me? What will they see? What will they decide? His hand brushed his pocket where no coin rested. Even the memory of money seemed irrelevant here.
Finally, he stood, straightened his coat, and opened the door.
The church was vast.
Seth had thought the corridors near his chamber long, but they were only tributaries of a greater labyrinth. The walls were pale stone veined with silver, etched faintly with crescents that glimmered when he passed. Gas lamps flickered at regular intervals, yet their light leaned toward violet, staining everything in a half-dusk no matter the hour of day.
Statues lined alcoves—veiled women with candles, their wax never melting, their flames never wavering. Each time Seth passed one, he felt the weight of its hidden eyes upon him, though the veil covered every detail of the face.
Other figures moved through the corridors: priests in layered robes, novices carrying baskets of herbs, guards with revolvers holstered at their hips. They walked with purpose, their steps echoing in patterns too rhythmic to be coincidence. None lingered on Seth, but he sensed—keenly—that all were aware of him.
He wandered deeper, turning corners, finding spiral staircases that led down to echoing halls, then up again to balconies overlooking interior courtyards.
In one courtyard, he saw a pool. Its surface was perfectly still, yet it reflected not the sky above but a horizon bathed in twilight, the very same hues he had seen in his vision. He turned away quickly, pulse pounding.
Further along, he came upon a library. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched into shadow, filled with volumes bound in dusky leather. The air was thick with incense and dust. A priestess inside glanced up at him, her veil obscuring everything but the glimmer of her eyes. He muttered an apology and stepped back out, unwilling to linger.
Step by step, the enormity of the church pressed down upon him. It was not merely a building. It was a world carved from stone and faith, designed to remind every mortal who walked its halls of their smallness.
He found himself pausing beneath a high arch, staring at the symbol carved into its keystone: a veiled crescent resting above a closed eye. It pulsed faintly in his vision, as if breathing.
A whisper rose in his thoughts: This is no place of sanctuary. This is a net.
Seth clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. I can't run. Not yet. Not until I know how to survive the eyes that will soon fall upon me.
Forcing his expression into blankness, he turned and continued walking.
By the time he returned to his chamber, the lamps along the corridor had shifted to a deeper hue, signaling noon had passed. His steps echoed louder now, as though the silence of the place had grown heavier.
Closing the door behind him, Seth leaned against it, his breath uneven.
The words of Aldric Moraine returned unbidden: The envoys will soon arrive.
He sat at the desk, His fingers twitched, tempted to call upon the Final Page, to reach for the sanctuary of the Pillar. But his body still remembered the exhaustion, the blur that had forced him out last time.
Too weak… the mysterious figure's voice whispered in memory. Summon me later.
Seth closed his eyes. He had no choice but to wait, trapped within gilded walls, until the weight of the Moonlight District descended upon him.
And so he waited, the shadow of unseen eyes stretching longer with every passing moment.