DING!! DING!!!
The bells tolled like the slow heartbeat of a sleeping god. Each clang rolled across the spires and cobblestones of Leonidus fief, echoing through the cloisters and ancient halls of the Holy Basilica.
The air carried the scent of rain-soaked incense, of cold stone and candle wax.
It was the hour of renewal — when vows were made, names rewritten, and the weight of devotion pressed like invisible chains upon mortal shoulders.
A new batch of nuns and priests was to arrive at the church that day. Twelve of them. Twelve new vessels to be filled with faith, or with something that only pretended to be faith.
At the altar stood two abbesses — one radiant, one fractured.
Amber, the younger, bore the white of sanctity too well. Her blond hair framed a face still soft with compassion, her eyes the color of gentle mornings.
