The common room of the Cathedral wasn't a place Claud frequented, but sitting in his workshop alone, twiddling his thumbs was less desirable than the gentle hum of conversation and scents of spicy tea. He'd stuffed himself into the study corner, away from most of his colleagues.

But he couldn't stuff himself away from the thoughts plaguing his mind. Night-Blooming Rose... He never would've thought. He wasn't sure how to feel—grateful to her for saving their lives, or angry for keeping it a secret and ruining the dress he'd worked so hard on. Or perhaps worry over what would happen next.

Beatrix had sent a message to King Jaredeth of Avaly first thing yesterday morning, but it would be another day or two before they got a reply, since the weather proved unfavourable. That was all the information Claud could ring from the High Priest, and it did him no good. He felt utterly useless.

The Council wouldn't allow him to see Octavia. Getting the dress he made had been a frustrating hassle. Even the High Priest was snippier than usual, but he supposed that was expected, all things considered.

The most viable course of action would be to wait. Octavia wouldn't be sitting in a cell unless she wanted to. He had faith she knew what she was doing. But the wait was excruciating, and the thought of her freezing to death unsettling.

A soft swear from Zhen pulled him from his thoughts. She sat across the table with an absurd amount of books piled in front of her. In casual clothing with her dark hair down, she was a far cry from her usual crisp and professional appearance.

Claud braced a foot on the table and tipped his chair back on two legs. "What's got you fretting?"

Zhen rubbed her eyes and groaned. "Something's been bothering me. The night of the ball, Octavia said there was something inside the barrier helping the netherborne get through."

His eyebrows shot up. Perhaps there was hope for the Priesthood yet. "And you believe her?"

"I don't know. But I can't deny that it makes sense. More sense than anything we've surmised. I've been researching but..." She shook her head and flipped through the book. "All this information. Useless. We have lots of resources on how to fight the scourge. But nothing on the nature of it or how the netherborne operate."

Claud plucked a book at random from the pile – the memoir of a long dead priest, recalling his time at the Cathedral in Ardenich. That city had long fallen to the netherborne, naught but a memory now. How long would it be before Hedalda and many others suffered the same fate?

He set the book back into the pile. "Perhaps you should ask Octavia. If they'll allow you to see her." The twitch in the corner of Zhen's lips was enough of an answer. "Merely a suggestion. I'll leave you to your work."

Claud left the common room to wander the halls of the Cathedral. His eyes drifted up to the ribbed vaults high over his head, and a familiar disgust soured the breakfast in his stomach. This place made him feel small, like an insignificant insect on the bottom of the food chain, naught but fodder for a larger and more powerful beast.

But, if things went his way, he wouldn't be long for this cathedral, or the priesthood. Four years he'd endured their dogma and, at last, he'd found what he need. Who he needed. Too bad they were going to kill her.

The slap of feet sounded through the corridor, and before Claud could react, Tallis came around the bend and slammed into his legs. As the boy fell on his rear, a chime rang through the hall, sweet and soft as a bird's song. The unmistakable sound lingered in Claud's ears, stirring memories of silver metal and red ribbon.

"Sorry mister Claud. I didn't see you there," Tallis said with a shaky smile as he pushed to his feet. "I need to get to my room." He inched by, holding his hands behind his back in a gesture of innocence. "I have a lot of schoolwork to get done."

Claud grabbed him by the collar before he could get away and hoisted him to eye-level. "What are you hiding?"

"N-nothing!" he said, scrambling to adjust his lopsided glasses. "I was just... singing. Yes, that's what it was." He topped of his piss poor explanation with a grin.

"Of course you were." Claud gave him a shake, and the chime rang out again. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Tallis."

The boy's nervous grin melted away and a look of panic warped his features. "I uh..." He bit his lip and his eyes darted everywhere except forward. "All right, all right. Just put me down."

Claud obliged and stood with arms folded while Tallis glanced up and down the hall as though he expected a netherborne to jump out and eat them. Then the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver bell tied with a red ribbon. Octavia's bell.

Claud had seen it on her person when they'd first met. The small instrument was what have her true identity away. "Where did you get that?"

"Miss Octavia gave it to me at the ball." The boy's voice was a hurried whisper, and, while he appeared frightened, Claud didn't hear the edge of deceit in his words.

But why would Octavia give him the bell? A token of good faith, perhaps. Tallis was a boy that frightened easily, though he'd never admit it, but he had good reason. Of all the people left in this village, he'd been dealt the harshest blow by the scourge. With his parents gone and no other family to speak of, it was a wonder he'd stayed so spirited.

Claud reached for the bell, but Tallis clamped his hands over it and held it close to his chest like a mother bear protecting a cub.

"Please don't take it away," the boy pleaded, voice laced with hoarseness. "And please don't tell anyone else I have it. Please, mister Claud."

He exhaled through his mouth and continued down the hall, throwing a dismissive wave over his shoulder. "Fine, just watch where you're going." The slap of Tallis' feet disappeared behind him as the boy ran off–no doubt going to his room to fret over whether Claud would tattle to the High Priest.

He would miss the rambunctious little rascal once he moved on from this place. As he continued down the hall, muffled voices floated in from the study. With luck, they belonged to better company.

"I will remain unbothered," Pilar said.

Claud walked right in. "Until more giant netherborne darken our doorstep. Then we'll all be bothered." He took a seat in an armchair and kicked his bare feet up on the coffee table, casting a glance at Sicero. "When are we scheduled to fortify the barrier again? I need to get out of my workshop for a while."

The High Priest looked as though he'd been wrestling the scourge in his sleep. Dark rings circled his sunken eyes, his skin was dull and pallid and his hair sticking up in some places and matted in others. He leaned back in his seat and scratched the edge of his bandage. "Tomorrow. The day after." He shrugged. "It matters not."

Claud exchanged a glance with Pilar. "What do you mean, it matters not?"

The temperature in the room dropped, and Claud wasn't sure if it was due to the blizzard outside or the frigid look that settled over Lord Sicero's face.

"The Divine City is shutting down the Cathedral. In three week's time a boat will arrive for us." He took a breath and set his gaze out the window. "We're done here."

"You're not serious," Pilar said, sitting straight up. "Sicero, we can't just abandon these people. We're the only line of defense between them and the netherborne."

"I know."

"There are children here, damn it." Pilar's hands went wild as she spoke, her irritation made manifest. So much for being unbothered. "They'll become fodder for the netherborne."

"I know."

"It was that old screech Marius wasn't it? How could they just ask us to return with such short notice?"

Sicero shook his head. "We were not asked, Pilar. We were ordered. The Prefects have ordered that we return to the Divine City." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of rolled up parchment before tossing it on the table. "Read for yourself."

Claud rose from his seat and stood behind Pilar as she unrolled the correspondence. As he skimmed the upright scrawl, a few things jumped out at him. Return to the Divine City with everything you can carry. We must allocate our resources elsewhere. His skim ended at the Divine City's seal and Prefect Marius' signature. He crossed to the window, gazing out at the blizzard.

The world beyond was cast in a haze of white fury, the silhouettes of trees and buildings barely visible. Tiny twigs and branches beat against the windows along with soft flurries of snow. May as well enjoy the view, he would see it much anymore.

The only thing surprising about the letter was the fact that it didn't come sooner. The Divine City only allocated resources where there was something to gain. Hedalda was no longer the bustling trade hub of yesteryear; the netherborne had sucked all the life from this place. It seemed the Divine City had realized it would never return to its former glory.

"Three weeks?" Pilar swore softly. "Does the Council know?"

"I plan to meet with them tomorrow. As for what we can do, I don't know. It's not as though we can get away with blatantly disobeying a direct order. They will cease sending resources and we'll be forced to leave."

Claud exhaled a yawn and scratched at his shadow of a beard. "Well, thank goodness I've already written my resignation letter then."

"Excuse me?" his Lordship asked after a beat of silence. "You told me nothing of resigning."

He took note of the edge in the High Priest's voice and chose his next words carefully. "With all due respect, I don't need to. Though I would appreciate it if you turned it in to the Divine City for me. I have other plans."

"So, you only joined to the priesthood to serve your agenda?" The edge didn't leave Sicero's voice; if anything, it grew sharper.

Claud gave a mirthless laugh. "Doesn't everyone, my Lord? The only difference is that my agenda doesn't directly align with the principles of the Priesthood. I'm done." He turned away from the window to face his superior.

"Then what did you hope to gain from becoming a Priest Claud? Power? Accolades?" Pilar asked, her voice free from scathing judgment.

He stayed silent for a moment, wondering what he'd done for her to think him so shallow. Power and clout didn't amount to much in a world where humanity was no longer at the top of the food chain. They were fickle things that could be dashed away in the blink of an eye.

"I wanted to find a necromancer, to help me find my mother," he said.

Pilar furrowed her brow, then realization crept into her face, slacking her jaw and widening her eyes. "Your mother is a necromancer..."

Claud shrugged and made his way back to his seat. "Or was. I'd rather not talk about it." With you, he tacked on in his head.

All he had of his mother were a box of letters and two music boxes. None of them contained her name, or any information on her whereabouts, and they were all over ten years old. He could be chasing a corpse for all he knew. The Priesthood kept a record of all the necromancers they burnt, drowned and beheaded. She could've been among those executed.

"Did you know?" Sicero asked. "About Octavia?"

He smiled. "I knew Octavia was a necromancer from the moment she stepped into my workshop."

The High Priest pressed two fingers to his brow and looked away. While Claud loved to poke fun and get under his superior's skin, he'd hate to be in the man's shoes right now–caught between his colleagues, the Council and the Divine City, all while wrapped up in his own feelings. No wonder he looked like death warmed over.

"Sicero, how long would the barrier last without us to maintain it?" Pilar asked.

He rubbed his eyes. "A few days perhaps. Not that it matters. The netherborne get through it, anyway."

"I'm not leaving." She tossed the correspondence on the table as though it were trash.

"Pilar you can't—"

"Can't what? Marius can throw himself headlong from his ivory towers for all I care. I'm not leaving these people here to die. And what about Tallis? He's just starting to adjust and you're fine with abandoning him here?"

"I'm not Pilar. I'm not." Sicero bent his head and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. "I never wanted it to come to this. I came here to rid Hedalda of the scourge, not abandon its people to it. I was too starry-eyed and naïve and ambitious to realize how dire the situation was here. I thought I could do it." He shook his head. "All of this is happening because I failed. Because I wasn't good enough."

Claud winced at the sight of Sicero—a man out of luck, out of options and out of hope. But he was far too stubborn to give up now. "I beg to differ. It's not that you weren't good enough my lord. You simply weren't enough. We weren't enough. Hedalda isn't the first town priests were sent to and ultimately had to abandon, and it certainly won't be the last. The Priesthood does not have the strength or fortitude to stop the scourge. We need a necromancer."

Sicero didn't answer, but Claud saw the conflict in his eyes and pressed harder. If he could get the High Priest to see sense, then there was hope for Hedalda and Octavia. And him. "Octavia was on to something. You know it; even the other priests know it. With her help we could save this place. We have three weeks."

The High Priest laughed, a hollow sound without a drop of humour behind it. "We're going to do in three weeks what we couldn't accomplish in ten years?"

"That's entirely up to you, my Lord." He kept his tone flippant, but he was doing the mental equivalent of holding his breath.

Sicero leaned back and closed his eyes. "I won't decide alone. We'll discuss it in the meeting tonight. Then I'll present the idea to the Council. There may be other contingency plans I am not privy to."

Claud nodded. It wasn't a guarantee, but he'd hold on to any bit of hope given to him.