Nyx followed Abel into the post, her steps hesitant as she took in her surroundings. The interior was modest but bustling, with guards and clerks moving briskly, papers in hand and voices murmuring over various tasks. The faint scent of ink and leather hung in the air, mingling with the sound of pens scratching against parchment. Abel gestured to a small wooden bench near the corner.

“Sit here,” he said gently, pointing to the bench. “We need to figure out what to do next.”

Nyx nodded silently, her gaze wandering as Abel stepped away to speak with another man. His uniform was slightly more decorated than Abel’s, marking him as a supervisor. The two began a hushed conversation, their voices low but their glances flickering toward her.

She sat stiffly on the bench, her hands gripping the edges of her cloak. The room was loud and chaotic, nothing like the quiet, magical serenity of the forest she had once called home. For the first time, the reality of her isolation hit her like a wave.

“What do you think?” the supervisor murmured, his eyes narrowing as he studied Nyx. “Kid looks like he’s been through something rough.”

Abel nodded. “Definitely. Alone, can’t communicate with us, and doesn’t seem to know where he belongs. Could’ve been kidnapped and escaped, maybe.”

“Or worse,” the supervisor muttered, his expression darkening. “If no one claims him, the church orphanage will have to take him. They can handle kids like this, and figure out if there’s family somewhere.”

Their hushed words reached Nyx’s ears faintly, but they were muddled, incomprehensible to her. She turned her attention to Uriel’s calm voice in her mind.

“They’re considering sending you to a church orphanage,” Uriel informed her, its tone steady. “It’s a logical choice given the circumstances, but not necessarily your permanent destination.”

Nyx’s stomach twisted. “An orphanage?” she whispered in her thoughts, panic threatening to take hold. “I don’t belong there. I have—”

She paused, the thought of her family—Drac, Tiger, and the others—catching in her throat. A pang of loss hit her squarely in the chest, but she swallowed it down.

“Uriel,” she asked hesitantly, “is this…safe?”

“The church will not harm you,” Uriel assured her. “They specialize in helping children. But remember, trust is earned, not given freely.”

She nodded subtly, trying to let Uriel’s words calm her nerves. Abel’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Let’s call the church cleric,” he said, turning to the supervisor. “Maybe they can identify the language or figure out where he’s from.”

The supervisor clapped Abel on the shoulder. “Do it. And make it quick.”

Abel walked toward the door, leaving the supervisor alone with his thoughts. His sharp eyes lingered on Nyx, watching her with a mixture of pity and suspicion.

Nyx swung her legs slightly, her gaze drifting to the polished floor beneath her. The chaos of the post seemed to recede into the background as she grappled with her thoughts.

“An orphanage,” she repeated to herself. The word felt cold and final, a place for the forgotten and unwanted. “I don’t want to go there.”

Uriel’s voice, steady as ever, interrupted her spiral of doubt. “This is a temporary measure, Nyx. Trust the process for now. We will adapt as necessary.”

She inhaled deeply, grounding herself with the fabric of her veil. “I guess there’s no other choice,” she thought. “At least for now.”

The supervisor approached her cautiously, breaking her reverie. “Kid,” he said gruffly, his tone softening slightly, “we’re going to have someone take a look at you. Just sit tight.”

Nyx gave a small nod, unsure of how else to respond. Her fingers brushed against the hem of her cloak, a subtle gesture of comfort.

Abel returned shortly after, accompanied by a middle-aged man dressed in flowing robes adorned with intricate embroidery. A golden pendant shaped like a crescent moon hung around his neck, glinting faintly in the light.

“This is Cleric Dorian,” Abel said, his tone polite but tinged with deference. “He’s with the Church of the Radiant Moon. If anyone can figure this out, it’s him.”

The cleric gave Nyx a kind smile, but something about his presence made her shift uncomfortably. His movements were calm, deliberate, as if he were used to assessing others.

“Hello, young one,” Dorian said softly, kneeling slightly to meet her eye level. His voice was warm, but there was a weight behind it—a kind of authority that seemed practiced. “You’ve been through much, haven’t you?”

Nyx blinked, unsure of how to respond. Uriel’s voice guided her. “Stay quiet. Observe.”

She offered a small nod, her expression neutral. Dorian’s eyes flickered toward the guards briefly before returning to Nyx.

“Do you understand me?” he asked gently, his words slow and deliberate.

Nyx nodded again, her movements measured.

“Good,” Dorian said, straightening. He turned to Abel and the supervisor. “The child understands, but I’ll need more time to decipher the language fully. Let me take him to the church.”

The supervisor frowned slightly. “Is that really necessary? Can’t we figure this out here?”

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Dorian’s smile didn’t waver, but his tone grew firmer. “The church has the resources and expertise to handle this situation. If there’s anything unusual about the child, we’re better equipped to uncover it.”

The supervisor relented with a sigh. “Fine. Just keep us informed.”

As Dorian gestured for her to follow, Nyx stood slowly, her legs steady but her mind racing.

“Uriel,” she thought, her voice firm. “Are we walking into trouble?”

“Possibly,” Uriel replied. “But it’s the best option for now. Stay alert. I’ll be watching.”

With a deep breath, Nyx adjusted her veil and stepped forward, following Dorian out of the post and into the unknown.

Nyx trailed behind the priest, her steps small and hesitant. The cobbled streets felt uneven beneath her worn boots, each step an unfamiliar echo in this strange new world. Around her, the village pulsed with life—merchants shouting their wares, children laughing and playing, and the faint clatter of hooves against stone as carts trundled by. The priest moved with steady confidence, his long robes brushing the ground, while Nyx clutched the edges of her cloak tightly, her small frame dwarfed by the bustling world around her.

Uriel’s calm voice hummed in her mind, a steady reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Stay close, Nyx. Observe carefully, but do not let fear take hold.”

She nodded faintly, her silver hair hidden beneath her hood as they reached the towering gates of the church.

The church loomed before her, its stone facade bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. Tall spires reached toward the heavens, their tips adorned with intricate carvings of celestial symbols. Stained-glass windows lined the walls, each depicting scenes of divine miracles and serene figures clad in flowing robes. The main doors were massive, made of dark oak with intricate metalwork that shimmered faintly with magical inscriptions, likely wards or blessings.

The priest led her inside, and the world grew quieter. The air inside the church was cool and heavy with the scent of aged wood and faint traces of incense. Golden light from the stained-glass windows painted the polished stone floor in vibrant patterns. A high, vaulted ceiling made her feel smaller than ever, the whispers of priests and the occasional creak of wood echoing faintly in the vast space.

Nyx’s gaze darted around as they walked, taking in the flickering candles, the rows of pews, and the massive altar at the far end of the room. It was an awe-inspiring place, and yet she couldn’t shake the nervous knot in her stomach.

Nyx followed Dorian down a long corridor lit by flickering candlelight. The soft echoes of their footsteps on the polished stone floor filled the silence between them. Stained glass windows lined the walls, casting fractured patterns of vibrant reds, blues, and golds across the passage. The faint scent of incense and old wood hung in the air, mingling with the distant hum of chanted prayers.

His robes swished softly as he walked, his steady pace making Nyx’s hesitant steps seem louder by comparison. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her Stormweaver Veil, her nerves prickling with each step. Uriel’s quiet reassurance echoed in her mind.

“Breathe, Nyx. You’re safe for now.”

The corridor opened into a vast hall, the church’s heart. High arches soared above, their intricate carvings depicting celestial beings and sacred symbols. A towering statue of a robed figure with outstretched arms dominated the space, its serene expression radiating an almost tangible sense of peace. Rows of pews stretched toward the altar, where soft golden light spilled from an ornate chandelier.

He gestured for her to follow him into a smaller room off to the side. As they entered, two more priests, their robes embroidered with silver thread, looked up from a table covered in scrolls and books. He gestured for her to sit on a wooden stool near the center of the room. She obeyed silently, her hands clenching the fabric of her cloak.

“This child was brought to us from the guard post,” Dorian explained, his tone even but tinged with concern. “He understands us but cannot speak our language. He appears to be alone, and there is no information on his origins.”

One of the priests, a man with a kind face framed by wisps of gray hair, nodded gravely. “Thank you for bringing him. Let’s figure out how we can help.”

Nyx shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking between the priests. “Uriel, what are they saying?”

“They’re discussing how to assist you. Stay calm and follow their instructions,” Uriel replied.

The other priests exchanged glances before the elder one spoke, his voice soft and kind. “First, we should ensure he’s not hurt.”

The younger priest nodded. “Agreed. We can determine the rest once we know he’s safe.”

Turning back to Nyx, the elder priest crouched slightly to meet her gaze. “We’re going to check if you’re hurt, alright?” His tone was gentle, his words slow and deliberate.

Uriel’s voice translated for Nyx. “They want to check if you’re injured. Nod if you agree.”

Nyx hesitated, her hands gripping her cloak. Slowly, she nodded.

“Good,” the priest said with a soft smile. “Can you remove your hood for me?”

Nyx froze momentarily before Uriel reassured her. “It’s alright, Nyx. Let them see.”

Nyx’s heart thudded in her chest as she reached up and pulled back her hood, revealing the dark veil covering her eyes.

The priests exchanged glances, their concern deepening. “Child,” the gray-haired priest said gently, “is there something wrong with your eyes?”

Nyx swallowed hard and nodded.

“Poor boy,” one of them murmured, their pity evident. “He must’ve been through something terrible.”

“Let’s see what we can do,” the elder priest said, stepping closer. He raised his hands, a soft golden light emanating from his fingertips. “Divine healing magic will reveal any injuries.”

The priests moved carefully, their hands glowing faintly with divine light as they performed the checkup. Nyx flinched slightly at the unfamiliar sensation but stayed still. The warmth of their magic washed over her, calming and soothing.

After a moment, the gray-haired priest stood. “Remarkable,” he said, looking at his companions. “This child is perfectly healthy—eyes included. Whatever covers them isn’t due to injury or illness.”

Nyx shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

“Thank you for letting us help, little one,” the priest said kindly. But before he could say more, Nyx’s stomach let out a loud growl.

Heat rushed to her face as she clutched her cloak tighter in embarrassment.

The priests chuckled softly, their expressions softening. “It seems our friend here needs more than just a checkup,” one said. “Come, let’s get you something to eat and a place to rest.”

Nyx nodded, her relief palpable as they led her out of the room.

The nun assigned to help Nyx was a soft-spoken woman named Sister Clara. She led Nyx to a small bathing chamber tucked away in a quiet corner of the church. The room was simple but clean, with a wooden tub filled with steaming water, a folded towel, and a small bar of soap resting on the side.

“You’re safe here, little one,” Clara said gently, her kind eyes meeting Nyx’s. “Take your time, and I’ll prepare a meal for you once you’re done.”

Nyx nodded, hesitating as Clara gestured for her to remove her cloak. She reluctantly unclasped the veil and let it slide from her shoulders, the fabric pooling around her feet.

Clara gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh… you’re not a boy,” she murmured.

Nyx froze, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if her secret had been laid bare.

But Clara’s expression softened almost immediately. “I’m sorry, dear. You startled me, that’s all. There’s nothing to worry about.” Her tone was warm and reassuring. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

Nyx relaxed slightly, nodding as she stepped closer to the tub. The steam curled around her, inviting her to let her guard down just a little.

“I’ll leave you to your bath,” Clara said, gathering the cloak carefully. “Take your time. I’ll bring fresh clothes and food shortly.”

As the door closed behind the nun, Nyx exhaled deeply, her fingers brushing against the water’s surface. She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace.