Hell was never meant to bear something so beautiful. Of any miracle that could’ve been granted to a city so wretched, the acolyte offered up the only one that mattered. She was so, so lovely, in each and every way.
She didn’t take after her mother much. The closest she got was the hair, wispy as it still was. The warm chocolate in her little eyes was just as gorgeous as that in her father’s own. Soft skin and tiny hands were precious in ways not meant for the Cursed City, and Seraphim’s song was the poorest lullaby the Velpyre Acolyte could provide. Celestina was always shocked that it never awoke Selena, thrice over as it came each night. If anything, she could’ve sworn the baby slept better. It was in her blood, maybe.
Celestina lamented, and probably always would, her inability to embrace both worlds. Where one hand reached to coddle an infant, the other settled onto the keys of Seraphim’s Call. There were twenty-four hours in a day, and the flame couldn’t burn forever--try as she might. Either she was a faulty acolyte or a faulty mother. To be fair, she’d spent most of her life being informed of the former. With her arms full of tiny love, that still hadn’t changed. It might’ve gotten worse.
“Are you alright?”
She wasn’t sure why he ever bothered asking. He always knew the answer, given the shadows permanently splashed onto her face. She humored him anyway. “I’m fine.”
Celestina didn’t earn a smile. Selena did, anyway. Kind fingers entangled with her own, grasping those that were so much stronger. “Did she eat today?”
She nodded, shifting the baby in her arms. “Yes. I did what I could. She…seems fine. She hasn’t cried much.”
Solaire brushed his free fingertips along the budding tufts of Selena’s hair. “Would you like me to take her?”
“I’m alright,” Celestina reaffirmed--for a different reason, granted. “I…wanted to spend time with her for a bit before nightfall.”
Tiny sounds from a tiny infant were infinitely sweeter than anything Seraphim’s Call could ever give to the Cursed City. Bubbling in her arms as Selena was, Celestina absorbed what innocent happiness she could borrow. It was the first smile she’d conjured all day, exhausted or otherwise. A hand so small was still wrapped around Solaire’s finger, and she couldn’t claim the same. She settled for so many other warmths in its place.
“Should I give you some time alone?” Solaire asked. “I don’t want to take that away from you before you play.”
Celestina shook her head, sharing the same soft smile with him instead. “I’d…like to spend time with you, too, actually. I’m sure she’d love the company, as well.”
He raised his eyes to her, and her world of three was perfect. “Of course. You never have to--”
“Lady Acolyte.”
She jumped. Solaire recoiled in turn, sharply withdrawing from Selena’s little grip. It was nearly enough to startle her, and sounds so recently pleasant grew tinted with something dangerously distraught. It was one more reason to hold her close.
“I-I…hello,” Celestina stammered, casting her eyes towards the carpet.
He was somewhat new. She hadn’t bothered to learn his name, nor did she want to. He’d slipped into the role disgustingly well, and robes far from pure did him terrible justice. She wished he’d forget her own moniker--although the title was a shield in and of itself. It was Celestina’s one advantage.
“And Solaire,” he added, bowing in the slightest.
Solaire returned his respects, strained or not. “Good evening.”
His smile was false, as were they all. Celestina hated where it landed, and she further loathed the way he drew near. “How fares little Selena?”
More than any other, that was the name she wanted off of his tongue. She pressed Selena tightly to her chest. “She is…well.”
If she had her way, the clergy would never lay eyes on her at all. Celestina knew better. In a perfect world, her arms would be a safer place for an infant. Solaire moved closer to her, and the feeling of him at her side was enough to steady her heartbeat. Fast as it went, she feared it would harm Selena.
The man’s eyes were on the girl. Celestina wished her soul was anywhere else. “Wonderful. Already, she is beautiful. In that way, she is so like her mother. Surely, she will grow to be such a lovely fla--”
“How can we help you?” Solaire interrupted firmly.
The way his fists were clenched at his sides wasn’t lost on Celestina, even in her peripheral vision. Where his presence was her shield, narrow eyes were a sword forged on her behalf. The man didn’t back down, his deceptive smile endless.
“I simply intended to give my greetings to the child,” he clarified. “I’m thrilled to see that she is healthy. Tell me, Solaire, do you and our flame plan to bear yet more children?”
Solaire flinched. Celestina did the same. When his distressed gaze drifted to her, every word was instinctive. “N-No. She is…precious. She will be our only child.”
It was a half-truth. Given the Hell she lived in, she would never dare offer the rest to the clergy.
It had taken long enough for his face to fall. “I see. Still, minds do change. Do not shun the idea so soon, Lady Acolyte. Your flame is warm, and you were born to nurture. It is in your blood.”
The moment his hand floated towards Selena, Celestina had to battle the urge to run. With certainty, her racing heart risked injuring the baby this time. “Precious as she is, to know that she, too, will come to warm such a darkened world is a bless--”
Her arms were vacated far too quickly. Solaire practically snatched Selena from her grasp, fast enough that he earned whimpers of surprise. Somewhere between urgent and gentle, it was a relief when he still opted to cradle her with care. It was the first time today that the infant grew upset. Celestina was hardly immune to the same.
“Lady Acolyte,” Solaire said strictly, stroking Selena’s wispy locks, “you should…go prepare for your duties. It’ll be night, shortly.”
She had time. She had an ample amount of it, really. Celestina’s stomach sank. “Solaire--”
His eyes flickered back and forth between the clergyman and Selena, pooling with something tense. Keeping her breaths steady was as much of a trial as suppressing her tears. “I-I…you’re right. I will…go ready myself.”
That was enough. She’d figured it would be. For them, it always was, and devotion was the easiest path to leniency. Even so, the hint of displeasure on the man’s face was not at all lost on Celestina. “Right, then. Do what is necessary, Lady Acolyte. We will embrace your song with gracious hearts, as ever. I give my best wishes to little Selena.”
The fact that he departed first was an immense relief, although she caught the harsh eyes that sporadically fell over his shoulder on the way down the corridor. It wasn’t until he was out of sight altogether that she could stop shaking. She hadn’t realized she was shaking to begin with.
Solaire had, apparently. “Celestina,” he said softly.
Selena was near to crying, if her rising sounds of discontent meant anything. It hurt to hear. If Celestina reached for the baby, she had a feeling that Solaire wouldn’t give her back. “I…I don’t…”
At the very least, she much preferred Selena in his arms versus anywhere near the clergy. “I’m…going to put her to bed,” Solaire murmured. “Before they come back.”
Celestina’s eyes watered. “I understand.”
“I’ll watch her. Don’t worry. Do what you must.”
She still had time. She had too much of it, now, clogged with emptiness where love had once been. She nodded anyway. “I’ll stay with her at sunrise.”
“Be safe.”
The fact that he had to add it at all was damning. It never failed to crawl under her skin, a charm that kept her warm and scorched her veins all at once. Divorced from a galaxy she’d so carefully cultivated, Celestina couldn’t be less safe if she tried. Every facet of the cursed flame would see to that much.
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Seraphim’s Call was the closest she would ever come to true sanctuary, if Solaire left her alone. Even then, the organ had been twisted and used in much the same way as the acolyte. Velpyre strangled them in tandem, and it was the only camaraderie she’d find in a chapel so cold. The keys never warmed her hands. They got close enough.
Part of her wondered if Selena could hear. She was torn between a louder song or a softer song, if so. The Dissonance was completely and utterly irrelevant. If Celestina had her way, the city would harbor a family of three alone. In that way, for once, Seraphim’s song would be as sacred as the clergy made it out to be.
Her rich melody tapered off, ringing notes blessing the stagnant air as they fizzled and died. Blood that had rippled so delicately steadied at last, stilling in her veins as her heartbeat grew audible. Fatigued as she was, the concept of simply sleeping in Seraphim’s arms until her second song of the evening was tempting. It was all Celestina could do not to curl up against the keys altogether. She settled for resting her forehead against the hardwood, indulging in the remnants of rumbling vibrations.
Seraphim was innocent. In the church, innocence was a rarity. Celestina still contemplated giving Selena a formal introduction. Given the cursed home in which she was raised, she’d receive one someday regardless.
“Lady Acolyte,” she heard.
Celestina didn’t have the energy to be surprised. She had enough energy to raise her head, and that was the most she could muster. “Yes?”
She at least recognized him, versus her first interloper. In the throes of exhaustion, his name slipped her mind, and his face was all she had. For what sentiments blurred together in their voices, she couldn’t be blamed. They were lucky that she could tell them apart at all, at this point. “Are you through with your song?”
Celestina tensed, settling her hands into her lap. “I…yes, for the time being. The night is young.”
His soft, singular hum was born of weak satisfaction. She was stiff in the face of his approach, still rooted to the bench of the organ. “How are you feeling, as of late?”
Celestina hesitated. As was so often the case, her eyes found the carpet. “I’m often fatigued. Still, I do try my best.”
“Indeed,” the man went on, his heavy footsteps muffled by the plush velvet below. “To care for a child so young and to shoulder the flame all at once is no simple task.”
That was an understatement. She despised doing one of those to begin with. “It is a path I must follow,” Celestina said, her voice dreadfully unstable. “It is what must be done, such that I could call myself the Velpyre Acolyte.”
They were surely the words he was looking for. She’d learned them well enough for that, every drop of honey in toxic sentiments enough to serve as a shield. When the man pressed anyway, her defenses cracked in turn. “Solaire has assisted you in raising the girl. You are not alone.”
She couldn’t tell if it was a statement or an accusation. Celestina’s heart skipped a beat. “I-I’m more than grateful for his help, each and every day. He is a…wonderful father. He will surely raise her to be a…”
More than anything, that was what they wanted to hear. It was the only thing she could keep from them, caged behind the weakest chains in her heart. The thought by itself left her nauseous, given the absurd amount of implications it came with.
“Seraphim’s song grows dim.”
Celestina flinched. “What?”
Sharp eyes shattered her desperate shield in full. “You are not yourself, Lady Acolyte. You are not the marvelous flame we know you to be.”
Her own eyes widened, by comparison. “I have played diligently, and I have done all that is expected of me. I have--”
One raised palm stifled what pleading explanations she could offer. “That which would plague this precious city is banished still, yes. Even so, Lady Acolyte, what song you play has faltered. It does not cleanse the soul, nor does it ease the heart. It is hollow. We feel it in our blood.”
Celestina rose quickly from her seat. “I’m trying!”
The hand that struck her came fast and fierce, slamming against her cheek with such force that she staggered. She cried out in pain, gripping the corner of the organ for balance. Eyes simply sharp evolved into daggers, and hers pooled with horror in turn.
“Do not raise your voice to me, you wavering flame!” the man growled. “Where is the grace we have come to expect from the blessing of our acolyte? What is the worth of an empty song? You would do better to birth an heir that could provide where you do not!”
Celestina knew that was where this was going. It always was.
His hands came tangled into her hair, grasping and pulling. The writhing was instinctive, futile as she knew it to be. He tugged. It hurt, as usual. “They say that you’ve declined to bear more children? You would shirk a bloodline so precious? In favor of sentimentality? Have you no shame, Lady Acolyte? Think of the flame! Think of Velpyre before yourself! That, too, is your duty!”
“Please, stop!” Celestina begged, feebly tugging back against his aching grip.
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Her resistance was enough for her to earn the floor. The man’s movements were swift, and one downward jerk of his arm was enough to send her hurtling to the carpet with a heavy thud. Of that, too, she cried out. “You’ve a fine husband! An upstanding man of the church who showers you with all you could need, and you would betray even that? Your song decays! It is the next generation of the Ebony family that is meant to carry the burden!”
From below, Celestina threw her teary eyes high. Rebellion was a terrible, terrible idea. Regardless, he’d involved Solaire. For that, she wouldn’t stand. “He loves me! He does not care that I serve as the acolyte, and he is happy with what we have! That’s not the kind of person he is!”
“He does not love you!”
“Yes he does!”
One foot came buried into her stomach. The tip of his boot speared into her, and thick robes did little to insulate her from a blow so strong. Celestina yelped, throwing her hands around her waist as she coughed. “Silence!” the man shouted.
Her gasping, winded breaths meant little to him. Not once did they serve to impede his ire. “No longer are you the sole hope for this city, Lady Acolyte. Do not believe it to be so, lest your ego cloud your duties. That your flame would flicker and die, another would burn in your stead. She shall be beautiful.”
He didn’t need to kick her twice. Celestina was already nauseous for a different reason entirely. “I--”
“That you would fall, she would rise. If you wish to thrive, I suggest you glow yet brighter. You are finite. Know it to be true, Lady Acolyte, for it is by Seraphim’s will alone that you are treasured.”
Battling the tears would’ve been a waste. The man didn’t see them regardless, discarded as she was on a carpet so cold. He turned and left her, making for the chapel doors and leaving a fallen acolyte in his wake. It was all she could do to hold fast to the sobs behind her teeth.
“I look forward to your song,” he said, never looking back, “and I look forward to your guidance renewed. Gifted is our flame.”
The slam of the doors echoed violently, and the vibrations against her skin were far from the gentle embrace she’d come to know from Seraphim. Only then did Celestina surrender her sorrow, her bitter tears splashing to the floor. The physical pain was the least of it, aching and throbbing as much of her was. Most of her had already ached, anyway--that much was a constant.
With Seraphim’s Call as her witness, she wept. It was all she had left anymore. The way by which they’d always find more to steal was incredible, and she wondered how low they could go. Given the Hell in which she lived, Celestina refused to underestimate them for a moment.
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Half of her expected them to rob her of what precious intermission she had, confiscating the hours in which her fingers weren’t weaving salvation. It was faulty salvation, apparently, and Celestina cursed them in her head as many times over as it took. Leniency had been one perk of pregnancy, given that violence would threaten a tiny flame. A mother as she now was, that, too, was one less shield. To return to the same grueling pattern after several months of near-peace was as heartbreaking as it was anticipated. If she began the cycle anew, she could predict the same kindness on behalf of little embers. It was a disgusting thought, given the way they’d be forsaken in turn, someday. It was what they wanted, ultimately. For that, too, she couldn’t surrender.
Celestina nearly stumbled into her quarters, still reeling somewhat from the disdainful assault. She loathed to admit the way her head was pounding well before the evening grew deep. Solaire was there with open arms, reaching where she staggered. He always was.
“Celestina?” he asked, his face immediately pooling with worry.
For a moment, she didn’t have the words to answer. Simply collapsing into his embrace was enough, and she buried her own face in his shoulder. His hand rose to cradle the back of her head, holding her just as close as he’d once held a tiny child.
“What did they do?” Solaire murmured into her ear. “What did they do to you, my love?”
Celestina didn’t want to cry. She couldn’t help it. “I can’t do this again,” she said, her voice cracking.
He only pulled her closer. “What’s wrong?”
“I…can’t,” she repeated. “I can’t. I mean nothing to them. They think Seraphim’s song to be weak, and they think it to be my doing. They think me to be disposable. Perhaps I am, for what I have…”
The feeling of Solaire stroking her hair did little to alleviate her sorrow. “You are precious. You are irreplaceable.”
“But not to them,” Celestina protested. “They know what is to come, with time and patience. They will turn to her, in my stead. I have condemned her to that life.”
“That time is not now.”
“But that time will come! That day is nigh! Have they already made the decision?”
“They cannot sever a bond forged by Seraphim’s Call alone,” Solaire argued firmly, never once compromising his warm embrace. “It is not their place.”
Celestina’s bitterness spilled from her tears into her voice. “And should Seraphim lack a Maestra? Should there be no acolyte at all?”
Solaire was quiet. She pushed. “I have cursed my life and hers all at once by bringing her into this Hell! I have ruined us both! I should never have brought her into this world! Even now, small as she is, it is not too late to spare her from such--”
“Don’t you dare!” he growled. “Don't say things like that!”
“It is true!”
“She is precious!” Solaire snapped, finally freeing her from his warmth. Two strong hands clamped down onto Celestina’s shoulders. “Do you not love her, as I do?”
“It’s because I love her that I would save her from this suffering!”
Where Celestina cried, Selena did the same. Her sobs outdid the baby’s own, and still they snuck through the cracks of her broken heart. She threw her teary eyes into a crib once peaceful, safe from the grasp of a church so vile. It was her fault. One of them deserved solace, eternal or otherwise. She couldn’t even provide that much.
Solaire attended to her, scooping the wailing infant into his arms. That much was probably for the best, given the less-than-pure impulses that still flashed through Celestina’s mind. She couldn’t do more than fidget uncomfortably, steeping in what passing violence still stung in theory. Each time her eyes met Selena’s own, the guilt that touched her was more painful than any blow the clergy could ever deal.
Celestina was afraid to speak at all. It wasn’t until Selena’s distress had settled somewhat that she found the drive. Even then, breaching the same subject yet further was a risk. Solaire’s ire was a world-shattering concept. She hugged herself tightly. “I…fear they may kill me,” Celestina whispered. “Is that so irrational?”
It was Solaire’s turn for silence, still holding Selena delicately. “They would not do such a thing without an heir close behind. Selena is too young. She would not be suitable for the role. They know that, as do you.”
“Am I supposed to wait?” Celestina asked, her voice faltering. “Am I supposed to count the days, and lament the time that she grows? What mother should be fearful of her daughter’s own childhood? I can’t stand this.”
“Then…what do you want to do?” Solaire tried. “Will you resist? And how?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Again, he was quiet. He was quiet for long enough that Celestina feared she’d offended him. So safe in his arms as Selena was, the way by which the girl had nearly fallen asleep wasn’t lost on Celestina. Part of her was almost envious of the love Selena claimed for herself, at the moment. In no way could she be blamed.
“Get through the night,” Solaire finally offered softly. “I want to…speak again at dawn. I will watch over her, as I have done. Cover your ears and block out their words, if you must. You are not worthless. Never will you be worthless. Please…remember that, my love.”
Celestina had no choice but to nod. “I…I will see you at dawn, then.”
“I love you,” he murmured.
“And I you.”
She didn’t want to leave. His eyes didn’t give her the option. If Solaire didn’t want her company, she wished he would’ve said so. It left her looping through every last terrified phrase she’d pelted him with, skimming for all that could warrant his disdain. Still, his face was soft. Celestina clung to that for as long as she could. She stole what of Selena’s she could, provided she deserved it at all.
To be banished to the cold Hell beyond four small walls of her own was miserable. Celestina’s tears followed her out, silent or otherwise, and it was Seraphim’s Call alone who would once more keep her company. She wasn’t dead yet, whether or not the clergy wanted her to be. For what slipped through her fingers more every second, her heart had long since perished instead.
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The exhaustion that had trailed in her footsteps on a nightly basis had only continued to worsen, emboldened by a baby’s cries beneath daylight. By no means was it Selena’s fault. Celestina paid the price for it with lead-laced fingers and heavy motions, slogging through holy melodies by muscle memory alone.
Seraphim’s Call sang twice more into the depths of the night, its Maestra hardly conscious all the way there. She didn’t dare leave the chapel in between, lest she be confronted and berated once more in the midst of pure fatigue. If they beat her down now, she would surely collapse. She thanked her partner for the safe passage she’d been blessed with in an hour so dark. It was the first divine intervention she’d earned in ages.
Celestina battled her way to sunrise with what little strength remained. It didn’t matter, given what would never shine upon her in the first place. Departing the chapel was a trial, as was navigating the hallway at all. There would, inevitably, come a breaking point, by which she would reach her limits and burn out in full. As to what would do her in, she had options.
She was always tired. That was fair. She’d long since surpassed furious, whether at the world or otherwise. Suppressed rage would choke her to death someday, probably. She was scared. She was petrified. She’d begged for death several times over, in her worst moments of torment. For it to loom over her head indefinitely was a completely different terror. Slowly but surely, it was eating away at her soul, and Celestina was a pendulum between fear and numbness. Right now, that was the strongest candidate to strike her down.
There were no tears left to cry. She didn’t have the energy to make them. If Selena cried in her place, she had a feeling she’d sleep through it. The baby was asleep. Solaire wasn’t, staring silently into her crib. He never rose from the bed as the door opened, nor did he do more than give Celestina his gentle gaze instead.
“You’re back,” he said plainly.
Celestina nodded, closing the door behind her. “Yes,” she replied, just as plain.
Solaire stole back his gaze. She hated how short of a time she’d had it. Again, his eyes were on a sleeping Selena alone. Celestina settled down onto the bed beside him, resisting unconsciousness as best as she could.
“I want to get you out.”
It took time to register that he’d spoken at all. Celestina raised her head. “What?”
“I want to…get you out,” Solaire repeated. “Of Velpyre.”
His words didn’t sink in immediately. They sat on the surface of her skin, heavy and chilling. “Solaire?”
He sighed. “I would blame their harsh words on bluster, usually. Still, what they’ve said carries weight, if what you’ve said is true. You have a successor now. Where once were empty threats may now come those of merit. You shouldn’t stay here. If your life truly is in danger, then you must go while you have the chance.”
“Solaire,” she said again, her eyes widening.
“It is the only way by which I could save your life.”
“Out of Velpyre?”
“I believe I have a way.”
“What about you?”
“I will follow.”
“And Selena?”
For a third time over, his eyes drifted to the infant, still tranquil and quiet. He echoed her silence.
“Solaire, what about Selena?” Celestina pressed.
His voice was nearly inaudible. “She will stay,” he murmured.
The speed with which Celestina leapt to her feet left her dizzy, and she staggered immediately. It was a reflex all the same. “We would leave her behind? With the clergy?”
“Should she come, there will be no acolyte,” Solaire clarified softly, never once matching her frantic gaze. “Seraphim’s Call will never sing again, and the city shall be defenseless.”
“To Hell with the city!” she cried.
“They will seek to reclaim their acolytes. They will hunt you down--both of you. You know them. You know the lengths to which they would go. Of you, in particular, the punishment would be steep. For the acolyte to elope is…unthinkable. Should they involve the blossom, there is nothing that could stop them.”
“I would forsake her,” Celestina stated, her voice wavering.
“Then you must make your choice. I cannot force you.”
She still had no energy for tears. She had plenty for suffering, as always. Again did she follow Solaire’s eyes to the same innocent child, devoid of robes as she currently was. She hated the same violent thoughts that flickered through her head once more, and she beat them back with all of the love she could muster. The urge to hold Selena close and never set her free was all-consuming. For now, she didn’t dare lay one finger on the baby.
“If…I agree,” Celestina began, “how would you do it?”
Solaire hesitated. “Those who guard the exit, I know them to be weak to coin. I’ve seen as much once before. I can ensure that no watchful eyes bar our passage. I still possess my passport to the blossom, and I could procure another on the streets within a day’s time. We will make it through the gates unhindered, as well. As to you, a disguise would be simple. I will lend you my clothes and all else you will need. We will…travel light. We’ll take only what is necessary. We’ll begin anew, Celestina, somewhere they cannot touch us.”
A child so pure was necessary. A child so precious was worth taking.
“When?”
“Whenever you are ready,” he answered. “I won’t leave your side.”
“She would suffer.”
“I cannot bring you both.”
Part of her wondered if he could save a soul so tiny alone. Given what she was considering, her own might not have been worth it.
“I love her,” Celestina whispered. “I really, truly do love her. I swear it.”
Solaire at last rose to his feet, gathering her into his arms. “I know.”
“I swear this on all that I am.”
“I know.”
It was one more way she stole him from Selena, his warmth nurturing a flame so much more experienced. In her defense, she needed it more right now. She owed Selena an apology for that. It was the least of what she owed, and the least of which she could ever repay. Even out of the Hell of the Cursed City, she’d surely burn in true Hell someday. There was nothing to do but hold her beacon of hope ever tighter.
She could blame the church. She could blame the city. She could blame Seraphim’s Call, if she really wanted to. Ultimately, it was the Velpyre Acolyte who struck the match to ignite a new flame. Celestina did them the favor of dousing her own.
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It wasn’t simple. It was still straightforward. Her footsteps were quick where her heart was the same. Her palms were clammy, and still her hand was locked in his own. Where he pulled, she followed. If it were her choice, she’d never let go.
If it were her choice, her arms would’ve been full.
Solaire had insisted that she didn’t look back, her eyes forward for more reasons than one. Celestina had never left the church to begin with, and his guidance as they raced through the darkened backroads was essential. Every corner he led her around was new. Every shadow-clad alley he urged her through was new. Prying glares would’ve been a risk. He skillfully wove his way out of the path of each, and not one gaze landed on her. Foreign as she was in anything but robes, she doubted they would’ve known.
If they ever met again, she wondered if Selena would recognize her. Solaire had gone so far as to cut her hair. It was all that had kept them similar.
What bangs were left in the aftermath battered Celestina’s eyes with every hurried step. Not once did Solaire let her slow, nor would she have stilled of her own accord. He’d always been resourceful, and it was one of so many reasons she adored him. The amount of planning and execution he’d managed in the short time before Sunday was incredible. She still hadn’t wrapped her head around it. For how fast the world was spinning, Celestina couldn’t wrap her head around anything.
The urge to look back was destroying her. She’d left the door ajar, by which the baby’s cries would echo once she awoke. Someone would attend to her, hopefully. Someone would care for her, hopefully.
The acolyte was at the stairs, and curious eyes were absent. Dawn was upon her, somewhere. Celestina hadn’t slept. She’d long since learned how to function without sleep, anyway. The adrenaline alone would keep a fizzling flame burning forever.
It would be years before Seraphim’s Call blessed the streets again.
Solaire’s hands were on the lever, unhesitant and swift. He pulled, blessing her with the flooding light of Heaven instead.
Celestina sent a silent prayer to the church at her back. Seraphim would watch over Selena, maybe.
So, too, was his grip unyielding up the steps, and Solaire forced her to steal them two at a time. She didn’t resist. Exactly once, Celestina defied him, looking down at the city from on high. At the top, drowning in shadow, it was pitiful. It was repulsive. There was a child in there, somewhere, innocent and pure as her flame lay dormant.
“Celestina,” Solaire urged, tugging sharply at her hand.
She brought her name up, and she left the acolyte behind. Another would someday pick up the title as it tumbled down into the dark. For that, flame or not, Celestina would burn within forever.