The ringing of the bell in the tower brings them from their homes and over the drawbridge, into large, heavy double doors that sit propped open.

Shoes are placed on a rack with their names painted on each space left open for them in exchange for the little folded towel and gleaming metal bowl they fill with clean water.

Sitting on the bench between River and Peregrine, Besra drapes the towel over his shoulder and rinses his feet. Shrike has already moved on to washing his hands, hovering in wait for the oldest of his brothers.

"Did you find out what the Saint wants?" Besra whispers to Peregrine.

"No one would tell me." He responds. This informs the younger teen that something big is on the horizon. Peregrine has been Benevolence's right hand since he proved himself and became a theta.

Besra isn't sure what a theta is, but he knows it's the opposite of sigma. The highest point of ascension that their God can bestow an omega.

"Do you think it's bad?" Asks River from the opposite side.

"I'm unsure." They finish, drying their feet with the little towels and move to washing their hands just as Shrike had done.

They place the towels in a basket by the door as they leave the cleansing chamber and walk to the third row of pews from the front. He glances around and catches sight of their mother, quailing the turning his attention to Serene when Tempest furrows her brow and gives the faintest of a sneer.

Sliding into the uncomfortable wooden pew, he peers around and finds the Saint standing at the pulpit. "Good morning, flock. I trust that you are all well."

A chorus of, "Good morning, Saint Benedict," echoes around him as he sinks down into the seat.

"I come to you with a vision bestowed upon me by our God. A terrible vision of a black goat!"

The congregation gasps before whispering amongst each other in a great cacophony.

"He walked on two legs amongst you. Our most devout. His horns dripped with the blood of innocents!" He looks out over their anxious faces with a stern expression. "And God has sent us to end his reign of terror before it can begin."

Paranoia spreads amongst the crowd as they try to comprehend the news given to them. Besra glances around, looking for anyone who might be showing signs of guilt.

"No one here is capable," Whispers Peregrine. "We're all devout."

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"As far as we know," Says Shrike.

"Is something bad going to happen?" Asks Frost, River's younger brother.

"No," Peregrine replies, running his fingers through thick locks. "God will protect us."

Looking up at his oldest brother, Besra knows he can trust Peregrine's judgement. And if he thinks that these dark clouds will roll over them without shedding a single drop of rain, then he'll believe it.

The Saint moves away from the pulpit and across the stage, then down creaky wooden stairs. Each step he takes feels deliberate. Purposeful. Slowly prowling towards them as he analyzes each earnest face.

Then, his gaze lands on River. "There! The goat!"

A cacophony begins amongst the congregation and Peregrine stands. "You're mistaken. River hasn't done anything wrong."

"You've fallen prey to his deception. Surrender him now and God shall forgive you."

Besra grabs the boy around the waist, receiving a hug about his neck in reply, and looks to his brothers.

Both of them wear the emotions he feels on his face.

"His father just died," Serene argues. "He needs to be with me."

"If you don't give us the boy, God will smite the entirety of Vibra!" The Saint tells her. His men stand on either end of the pew, blocking them in.

With trembling hands and hitching breaths, River says, "O-okay. I'll go."

"Absolutely not!" Hisses Serene, shoving at a man in heavy armor when he tries to push past her to get to her older son.

"I want Besra to come with me." The boy says again. "But I don't want God to be angry."

His mother looks conflicted, body providing minimal protection as she forms a response.

"It'll be okay," River says again before reaching for Shrike's wrist, then Peregrine's. After he's assured himself, he breaks from Besra's embrace to hug his mother and blood brother goodbye.

"Bring him back quickly," Says Shrike under his breath. "Be safe."

"I will," Besra agrees. "Pray for me."

"I think," His middle brother adjusts his sleeves, "you'll have to go without God this time."

The very idea is daunting. As far back as he can remember, Benevolence and Serene have instilled a strong devotion. Teaching him that their God had a plan and a purpose for his life.

That his suffering was treasured and valuable.

"I'll look after him," He tells Serene as he turns to follow River into the waiting hands of the Apostle's delta, allowing himself to be led from the gilded bastion that is their Church and into the carriage with many large, white horses.

The door is firmly closed behind them once they're inside and River laces his fingers together in his lap. "What do you think is going to happen to me?"

"Nothing." Says Besra. "God will show him that he is mistaken and you could never be the goat."

"And if I am the goat?" He sounds so scared. So small.

Their eyes meet and he takes the younger teen's lithe hand. "Then we'll cross that bridge when it comes."

Saint Benedict climbs into the carriage across from them, one of his cronies sitting to his left and fanning his reddened face.

His stomach sours at the stench of alpha that fills the small space. The only alpha he'd met in his life was his father.

And now the Saint who wants to do River harm.

The carriage lurches forward and his charge gazes meekly out the window.

"So what's the plan?" Besra asks, trying to keep his tone friendly. "I've never been to the Holy City before."

"You will not speak to Saint Benedict unless spoken to." Says the delta.

"Alright," Says the teen. "Then I'll ask you. What's the plan?"

The soldier adjusts the metal plate in front of his mouth with a narrow, amber eyed glare, then returns to fanning Saint Benedict.

Even though he worries it's futile, he sends up a prayer for cunning and strength. He can already tell he's going to need it.