There's a commotion going on around me, but I am not all there. The sound of someone else screaming sounds distant like I am hearing it from under a sea of static. I feel so numb and aloof that it is as though my soul has ascended; I am now but a lifeless husk of a body rooted to a nightmarish hellscape below. All I can do is stand there, simply stunned. I can't process what I am seeing. My beloved home, the church that had raised me when my family would not, has been tarnished by red. The once grandeur, ornate walls are vandalised with manic handwriting that bleeds into the intricate golden detail like the world's most gruesome sunset. The white flooring is now tainted with an abyss of black blood.

I read the words "your god is a liar" over and over, but I can't make any sense of them. Simply put, I cannot comprehend such a fact. After all he has done for this planet, I cannot believe someone has the audacity to not only call him a liar, but to slaughter in his place of worship.

Someone screaming my name snaps me out of my trance. Try as I might, I can't get that image of lightning strobing over those lifeless, glassy eyes out of my head. I gag, chewing upon my nails like a frightened mouse. I seem to have forgotten how to speak – all I can think about is the corpse. My mind's eye is too focused on the severed strings of flesh oozing red. My heart is too preoccupied on the fact this was a living, breathing person only moments before.

Suddenly, I am grabbed by the shoulders. Father Larious is there before me, face reddened with rage. As he shouts, sound explodes into my ear with the intensity of a gunshot.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" he screams, shaking me violently.

It takes me a moment to form words. To recall what actually did happen. I heard the sound of a piano and... no. That couldn't be right. There's no way the killer was playing piano after they killed him. That would be like they wanted to get caught. But then I realise that Father Darius couldn't play the piano. As unhinged as it sounds, it was the killer, or at least someone who was with them, almost as if they were taunting me.

"Check the doors!" I shout suddenly. "There was someone here only moments ago!"

I yank myself away and run to the doors. I pry them apart as far as I can muster and am blasted by torrential rain. The wind batters my clothes, howling like a banshee. Father Larious pries me back as lightning flashes; in the brief explosion of light I rake my eyes as far as they can see, but there is nothing. The night returns to torrential darkness.

"Get back here!" Father Larious spits. "You're not going anywhere until you answer my questions!"

He yanks me backward and I search his face. His thin, shrewd lips are pulled back into a snarl and he is psychically shaking. Never before have I seen him look this angry.

I take a deep breath, trying to form words. My voice doesn't sound like my own when it finally comes out.

"I had... a dream," I say. I stop. I can't tell him about the dream with Apollo; if they find out that I'm having raunchy dreams about my own Lord and Saviour, God knows what they'll do to me. I move on quickly, simply hoping hell be too preoccupied with the murder to ask. "When I awoke, I heard the sound of a piano being played. It was... beautiful. I thought it was Miranda so I came to talk and when got here I found..."

I cut off. Those bulging, glassy eyes flash in my mind yet again. I shiver, icy goosebumps crawling like insects over my body. Once again, I find myself unable to speak.

I don't think he is going to accept that answer. None of it makes any sense. I happen to have a dream of my god that wakes me and when I do so, I am lured to the scene of the crime at just the right moment. Oh my God. My heart wrenches with anxiety. Are they going to think that I did this?

Larious bespeckled eyes light up as if struck by a revelation. His lips peel back into a snarl. "Miranda," he hisses like a snake. "Headcount!" he shouts rushing back to the corridor.

"Wait!" I cry, realising that I've set him upon her. "No, it wasn't..!"

He ignores me and goes to presumably chap everyone up. The door slams shut and I am left with only a corpse for company.

Tears prickle my eyes. Who would do such a horrible thing? Why was our church, of all places, the one to be targeted? We've never done anything but good. We are the ones who keep the streets clean of man-eating Lupine. We are the ones who raised the homeless orphans when they have nowhere else to go. I ball my fist tightly, baring my teeth as hot tears roll down my cheeks. It had to be a damn hellhound. Nothing else would have the strength to rip a head clean of the shoulders.

It occurs to me then that this is an odd killing for a Lupine. As far as I could remember, none of the flesh looked like it had been eaten. It is clear to me then that this is a grudge killing. Perhaps the family of one of the wolves we've slaughtered.

I have to check the corpse for clues. I am the Luminous One after all – the one foretold to be the prophet of Apollo by his natural ability to create light. One day, I am going to lead this church. This cannot be allowed to happen upon my watch.

I swallow. I tiptoe my way around the blood and do my best to avoid looking at the gore as I reach for his pockets. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just some sort of clue to find out what he was doing before he died. Who knows, it might help...

I don't know what I am expecting as I rummage deep in his pockets, but it certainly wasn't for gold to start spilling out them.

My eyes widen. There's so much of it. What must be worth thousands of majika seems to spill out for several seconds. I'm shocked that the killer hasn't taken this; perhaps they didn't know, but it seems far too coincidental that there's been a death when money has been involved. Perhaps they didn't have time to.

I shuffle over and search the other. Something weighted falls upon my hand. I pull out what appears to be a cylinder shape and find... a jar of honey.

I rake my brains but I can't figure out the meaning of this. What connection could gold and a jar of honey possibly have? Is there any? Am I just looking too far into this? The only connection I can possibly think of is that they're both gold.

Yes, I am sure that's it, I think sarcastically.

I make my way to the piano. The blood embellishing it has been hastily wiped clean. I examine it more thoroughly, but there is no evidence of prints to be found.

The door slams open. I hear the chaotic chorus of voices outside. I don't think Larious has told them what has happened yet – they don't sound quite panicked enough for that – but the air is definitely electric with speculation.

Larious reappears in the doorway. I notice then how shadowed his eyes are. I've never seen him look like this. Something has been making this man lose sleep.

Could you know something? I wonder. Was there any way he could have hidden and made it appear as though he had entered the room when he had never actually left? Did it even need to be that complicated? Could he have just hired a hit on someone for some reason or another?

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

We lock eyes for a moment. The seeds of distrust have been sewn; in that moment, I have a sneaking suspicion that he suspects me as I am him.

Shadow passes over his taut features as he closes the door behind him.

"Lorelei," he says lowly. Venom rears its face in his features. "Miranda is missing."

My heart seizes all action within my chest.

*****

There is no sign of sunlight as the hours filter into morning. The skies are bleak and empty and rain gently pours against the ceiling as if the Lord Himself is crying from the depravity of the deplorable act. I've spent the entire day reliving my trauma through the countless questions of the higher-ups. Eventually, when I am allowed to go free, I lock myself up in the "Lorelei designated" dormitory, knowing I will be hounded by questions if I so much as show my face.

Eventually, an emergency ceremony is called. The rest of the youth stare at me as I make my way through the hall. I can only imagine what rumours and speculation are buzzing through the air; several people stop me by calling my name, but I ignore them. These people never wanted to talk to me before, but now something juicy is afoot, I am the talk of the church.

My eyes are fixated ahead of me as I storm through the onlookers.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it," I mutter to whoever may ask, hurriedly pushing my way through. I feel all their eyes burn upon my skin. Usually I feel alienated enough in this place, but today it is toned up by one thousand.

Eventually, I find myself in the ceremony room of the church. The rows are of crammed full of chattering people; they lean in and whisper as I walk in with my head down. I can never look at this place the same now that I've seen it ravaged by blood. I feel bad for whoever was forced to clean that mess.

I've entered late enough that hopefully people won't have time to question me before the ceremony. I take my seat in the most desolate corner; the only other is a young boy named Timmy who sits with his hands clasped as if in prayer. I've never really spoken to this kid before, but he never bothers me like the rest of them do. As I take my seat, he looks up – even this meek young boy that usually blends into the background has his eyes upon me.

I feel the desperation in his stare. He wants to ask me, but I will not offer any info unprompted.

Just as he opens his mouth, Father Larious descends upon the altar. He is dressed in black head-to-toe, robes fluttering like a pair of bat wings as he strolls up to the podium. All falls quiet; anticipation surges through the air as everyone, with bated breath, waits for him to speak.

He licks his finger and carefully turns the pages of the book before him.

"May we begin with a verse from the Lumina," he says slowly. He sounds unusually calm. He takes a deep breath, waiting his sweet time as if he is almost loving the attention. He begins to drone in his monotonous voice.

"And lo, with a sword of light in hand, God severed his wing in two and from its remnants, the sun was born and the gift of light was permitted to nourish the Earth. Cut into two, the perfect being was rendered imperfect; from the stars he fell, where Mother Nature met him with a warm embrace as he came crashing into the mortal domain. As he lay dormant among the Earth, she whispered sweet nothings in his ears and the ways of the Earth were embellished upon the Sun God. The desire for love and lust contaminated his soul; for man, not only had he fallen from the skies, but he had fallen to the temptations of the mortal realm. For man, he bled for thousands of years beneath the Earth, his severed wing the glowing life force that ran through the planet's veins. Now susceptible to human sin, he was banished from the realm of the gods and, forced to wander the Earth for eternity, for man, the Perfect One became but a man himself."

Larious stops. Slowly, he pushes his glasses up his nose and steadily pushes the Lumina shut. His eyes narrow as he meets every single one of the audience's gazes, and I swear he lingers on me a second longer.

"You may be wondering why I am reciting such an early verse of the Lumina," he says slowly. His fingers curl to a fist upon the podium and he licks his lips. "The truth is that our beloved church has been the victim of numerous hate crimes. Last night, Father Darious Ratchet was murdered within the house of Apollo."

The crowd erupts and gasps with panicked chatter. The boy next to me straightens his spine; suddenly, he is alert from his praying form.

Great relief washes over his features and a smile forms upon his lips.

"God is real," he mouths to himself.

I look at him. His face reverts to a resting position instantly but I can see an elated sparkle in his eyes.

He knows something. I have to ask him.

"Silence!" Larious demands, somehow commanding what he asks despite the panic surging from the crowd. His eyes darken. Somehow, he looks really at home standing atop that podium, like he's been awaiting this for a long time.

"It is clear to me that His Radience is displeased," he spits. "In this church, we worship Apollo by denying the temptation of mortal sins where he could not. If our beloved leader can be killed without the protection of God, it is clear that some of you are succumbing to sin."

I cower, the dream of Apollo making my palms sweat. I've clearly been succumbing to sin. Not only that, but I've been reading about mate bonds, a ritual where Lupine tempt innocent humans with sex and then devour the soul, forever preventing it from returning to His Radiance in the afterlife. I just wanted to know more about what we were fighting against, but if they find that out I'll be done for. I fidget and drum my fingers against my knees. Is this my fault?

"From now on, every single one of you will be attending mandatory confession time. Our hunters will double their training time to protect against any rogue wolves. And as for me... I will be taking Father Darius' place as the new leader."

My head snaps up. Who the hell decided that? This decision seems to have transpired awfully quickly. Even if he wasn't the killer, Larious has seized his opportunity for rising to power rather promptly.

His eyes stare at the door like a cat sizing up its prey. I hear a creek; I turn my head towards the door and so do many others.

There is Miranda peering through the doorway.

She hesitates as she realises all eyes are on her. I'm just glad she's okay, relief releases through my heart. Carefully she tiptoes through the crowd, attempting to seamlessly blend in an empty seat, but Larious is not having it.

"Sister Miranda," he growls, not caring one bit that there's a huge audience. "Where have you been?"

She balls her fist. I notice then that her beautiful golden hair is tousled. The top button of her black dress is loose; she looks like she has hastily pulled on her clothes.

"Nowhere," she mumbles.

Larious' grey eyes narrow into lines. They glare at her like sharpened icicles.

"Sister Miranda," he calls, but his gentle voice does not match the sinister look sharpening his features. "Last night, Father Darius was murdered and you just happen to be missing, refusing to tell us where you were?"

Miranda folds her arms and sucks in her cheeks. "I had nothing to do with it," she says quickly.

You can cut the tension with a knife. Tense whispers fall upon the crowd, but Miranda is not deterred; she walks with her shoulders back and her head held high as she descends upon Larious.

"I will ask you again," Larious whispers. The softer his voice goes the more toxins rear in his eyes. If looks could kill, she'd be dead. "Where were you, Miranda?"

She stops upon the podium. She throws her blonde hair over her shoulder almost defiantly and it glistens like a halo at the top. "You want to know where I was?" she asks. Her voice booms, not just addressing Larious, but everyone whispering about her.

Larious nods, shadow descending over his features as he does so.

"I was with a boy," Miranda says matter-of-factly.

There is a chorused gasp from the crowd. I freeze, slapping my hand over my mouth. Did she just say what I think she did?

"You heard me," Miranda says, scanning every pair of eyes upon her. She straightens her back, standing tall despite the outrage caused by her confession. "I was told by God himself it's okay."

Larious' eyes look like they are about to burst from their sockets. He opens his mouth, but for a moment, no words come out.

"Blasphemy," he whispers. He's psychically shaking; he balls his fist by his side, and suddenly, I am afraid for Miranda. Wrath ignites his features. "You're the reason why this has happened to us. You're the reason we've lost God's protection upon the church!"

"No," says Miranda. "God is angry, but not for the reasons you think. Our methods of worship are displeasing to him. I have been chosen by him to lead this church."

Boos begin to erupt from the crowd. No way will they ever accept her as the leader. She's the rebellious type and always in trouble; her beliefs on religion are very liberal. Some even begin laughing at her but Miranda takes it well; she continues to stand tall like a statue.

Larious' face is also eerily still. You can see the gears turning in his mind. I can only imagine what he is scheming for Miranda. While her initial lack of surprise about Darius' death is suspicious, I don't think she'd lie about being with a boy. Why she'd ever admit that is beyond me.

"Everyone leave," Larious says. His voice is soft yet rugged at the same time. It sounds like the prelude gust of wind to a massive storm. "I want to be alone with Miranda."

I stay rooted to my chair. I'm afraid for her and not leaving her by herself.