Octavia made it to the Cathedral after nearly an hour of walking. The building towered over her, its many stained glass windows like eyes scrutinizing her, deciding if she were worthy of entering its vast depths. Its oppressive force bared down on her shoulders, making her feel small and insignificant insect next to its hulking, grey glory. Buildings didn't have feet, but she was afraid this one would step on her.

She grabbed the brass knocker and slammed it against the wood. At the same time, her bell rang. The sounds twisted and twirled around each other, mingling as they echoed through the interior of the building.

Nothing. Not even a whisper of a nightwalker returned to her ears.

One side of the door swung open, and a young woman in the gold and white garb of the priests stepped out. Her black hair was shorn off at the chin and her eyes were nigh as dark as the interior of the Cathedral. "Can I help you?"

Octavia took note that her right hand never strayed far from the sword on her hip. "I'm here to see Councilman Sicero. He sent for me earlier."

"You're Miss Octavia then?" She smiled and opened the door wider. "Right this way."

She stepped into the warmth of the building, craning her head up to admire the pointed arches that stretched up to the vaulted ceiling. Furniture carved from heavy wood decorated the foyer, and a painting of the Divine City hung over the hearth.

"I'm Zhen by the way," the girl said as she led Octavia to the steps at the back of the foyer. "I've heard much about you from Tallis and the High Priest."

"It's a pleasure." She trailed her hand along the polished wood banister as she ascended the stairs. They hung a left into the north wing of the building, following halls lined with sconces and decorative statues. She reached up to smooth her braids, and the bell chimed, its sound loud in the quiet halls.

Still no nightwalker. Perhaps it was confined in a space where she couldn't detect it. She wasn't sure if the priests were capable of such a feat but wouldn't rule it out as a possibility. Or this place could have a few soundproof rooms. In which case she'd need a tour of sorts to fully explore it. One step forward, two steps back.

"Here we are." Zhen stopped in front of a plain wood door and knocked before opening it. "My Lord, Miss Octavia is here to see you."

Octavia arched a brow. My Lord? She wondered if that was his official title. Perhaps she should address him by it and find out.

"Please come in," Sicero called from the other side.

The girl stepped aside and nodded for Octavia to enter. As she did, the door clicked shut behind her. The office wasn't as big Beatrix's, but still as finely decorated as the rest of the Cathedral. The carpet was a shade of grey that was nearly black, and a lit hearth on the eastern side of the room warmed the air.

Sicero sat behind a wood desk, framed by shelves upon carved shelves of text. "Please have a seat." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Octavia grimaced. Her feet itched with the urge to explore more of the Cathedral, to seek out the nightwalker hiding somewhere in this village. She took slow measured steps to the chair and lowered herself down without a word.

"How are the repairs going?" The question hung in the air between them for a moment, with him looking at her expectantly, and her shifting in her seat.

"They finished the back wall and the shelving. But Councilman Levi said it will be a while before I can get a new cool box." Her tone was more clipped than she intended, but she wasn't about to correct that. One bad run-in with management of this village was enough. Treading lightly was the best course of action given her unique circumstances.

"And what about you? How are you feeling?" His eyes moved to her lip, and she had to resist the urge to turn her head. There was discolouration there from her fall. "I know that netherborne attacks can cause a great deal of trauma and..." His words trailed off as though he didn't know how to complete that thought.

"I'm fine, my Lord."

His eyes widened. "You... needn't call me that."

"What's the proper way to address you then? I'll assume Councilman is fine since you've never corrected me for using it."

"Or you could call me Sicero like you used to." A pregnant silence followed his words. It felt as though they were friends who'd suddenly become estranged after years of friendship.

Which made little sense to Octavia. She hardly knew him, and yet it didn't sit well with her having to keep him at arm's length.

Sicero opened one of the top drawers of the desk and pulled out a thick stack of papers. "This is for you." He pushed them towards her.

Octavia flipped through the sheets, studied what was on the pages. The book. It was the book on necromancy that Diann had thrown into the fire. The illustrations were in a different art style and the text a different font, but it was very much the same book.

"I salvaged as much of it as I could. Lyra and Tallis helped with some pages that were badly burnt, but I'm not sure if they information they gave me was accurate." He opened another drawer and pulled out the front and back cover. The leather had been replaced and the gold plating had been cleaned, polished and reapplied. "I got the cathedral clothier to fix the covers. He has no experience in bookbinding, so there was a lot of trial and error involved."

Octavia looked over the covers and the pages. She found it a little hard to believe he'd taken the time to rewrite and illustrate the entire work. Especially given he detested the subject matter and especially given he was a busy man who had to fulfill two roles.

"Lyra told me you rebound her book for her. So you should have no problem putting it together, correct?" he asked.

She finally looked up at him, brows drawn tight. "Why did you do this?"

"You've done a lot for the children in the short time you've been here. They smile a little more brightly than they used to. You didn't deserve to be berated by the Council for an honest mistake."

"So this is the Council's way of making peace with me?"

He shook his head. "No Octavia. This is me showing my gratitude for everything you've done and apologizing for not being fair to you."

"You didn't burn the book Councilman." She neatened the stack of papers, unable to look at him anymore. His hazel eyes burned a little too intensely.

"You're right I didn't. But I stood idly by and let it happen, which makes me just as guilty."

Octavia opened her mouth to speak, but her brain couldn't come up with anything to say. She didn't get it. He could've come to her and apologise at any time. Why go through all of this? Why make such a grand gesture? Transcribing an entire book was no small feat and Sicero already had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He must have had many sleepless nights.

"I don't know what to say." She wasn't used to people going out of their way to make things right with her. It was almost always the other way around.

"Does that mean you accept my apology?"

She nodded. "It does. Thank you."

He leaned back in his chair and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm glad to hear that. Would you like to stay for lunch? Or do you have other plans? Lyle told me you were preoccupied."

Octavia pondered his offer for a moment. She needed to see more of the Cathedral, needed to investigate it more, and perhaps coax Sicero into giving her a tour. "Well, I am a little famished."

"All right. Lunch should be starting soon." He rose from his seat and took his jacket from its back. "Right this way, please." They left the office and walked back to the main foyer.

"This place is incredible." Octavia craned her head to admire the room again. "Are all the rooms this gorgeous?"

"Most of them are. The Cathedral was not only built as a home for the Priests but also as a shelter for the villagers. It was the first thing I asked of the Divine City when I came here as an aid."

She blinked. He asked for a Cathedral, and had one built? As far as she knew, only Prefects had that kind of clout and authority. How he'd managed to rise through the ranks and attain that kind of power was beyond her. 

"How long have been in the Priesthood?" Octavia asked, as they walked into the south wing. 

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "Since I was a boy. I had all of my training at the Divine City." 

"I'd imagine there's a lot of rigmarole involved in running a place like this. Seems like quite the undertaking." 

"For others maybe. But I'm allowed to work semi-autonomously, under the blessings of the Prefects. I hope to make significant strides here in Hedalda."

Octavia bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't sure if he always forthcoming with this information, or if was he trying to impress her. Either way, power and autonomy wasn't something the Divine City passed out like daily scriptures. She made a mental note to write all of this down at the earliest opportunity.

Her pondering was interrupted by chatter drifting into the hall along with the scent of stew. They stopped in front of a set of double doors which Sicero pushed open. Beyond it was a kitchen and dining area similar to what was at her residence but on a larger scale.

To her surprise, Tallis and Arietta were there, setting the table while Lyra was helping a plump woman take bread out of the oven. The daywalkers were there too, shadowing Tallis as always.

Arietta was the first to catch sight of her. "Miss Octavia!" she squealed bounding towards the door. Halfway through her cheerful gait, her feet slipped out from under her.

Octavia shot forward, catching the girl with her free arm before she could connect with the ground. "Careful, Arietta."

"Sorry." She gave a sheepish smile. "Are you joining us for lunch?"

"Yes, but I wasn't expecting to see you all here." She ruffled the girl's hair.

"Tallis invited us over," Lyra said, setting the cloth-lined basket of bread on the table. 

Octavia smiled. "I see. Tallis are your parents priests?" The room fell silent, and its occupants stilled.

"My parents are dead," Tallis said, and scuffed his boot on the floor.

If there were gods above, they'd strike her dead where she stood. A hot wave of shame fell over her shoulders. "Tallis, I'm so sorry." This was her punishment for keeping everyone at arm's length.

He shrugged. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"So this is the Octavia you all never shut up about." The old lady wiped her hand on her apron before extending it. "Marin. I take care of everyone around here and get no thanks for it."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Octavia shook her hand and offered a smile. "Sicero tells me your cooking is divine."

Marin snorted. "Yet he hardly ever eats any of it." She hobbled to the stove and began ladling stew into bowls. "Come. Sit. Eat."

Octavia took a seat next to Sicero and went to take off her gloves. Then she remembered the burns. She'd been hiding them from the children, keeping her gloves on during class and pretending not to be in pain when she played her flute. They would have to find out eventually. She tugged off the gloves.

Arietta's hands flew to her mouth. "Miss Octavia, your hands."

"It's fine. Just a little accident." Octavia linked her fingers together to stop herself from picking at the peeling skin and caught Lyra staring. She could see the cogs in the girl's head turning. The child was no fool.

Marin set a bowl of stew in front of Lyra, more forcefully than necessary. The sharp bang made the girl startle. "It's impolite to stare."

Lyra shrank in her seat and shot Octavia and apologetic look before digging into her stew.

They ate in silence, with only the clinks of metal on porcelain filling the room. The stew was to die for – the perfect balance of meat and vegetables with of spices that nipped at her tongue. The gods could strike Octavia dead right then and she'd pass into the afterlife a happy woman.

When her bowl was empty, she exhaled a contented sigh, feeling as though her soul had been healed. "Thank you, Marin. That was delightful."

"At least someone around here appreciates me." Marin gave Sicero a pointed look. "Octavia, you're welcomed at my table any time. Now all of you, out of my kitchen."

The children rose from the table first, except Arietta, who stared at her empty bowl. Sweat beaded her brow, and her shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths. "I don't feel so good." She clamped a hand over her mouth, a pained look filling her eyes. She ran across the room, barely making it to the wastebasket before her lunch came up.

Lyra held her hair and rubbed her back as she retched and retched, even after no more food was coming up. The sickly, sour scent of vomit wafted in the air, mingling with the scent of the spicy stew.

Octavia shifted on her feet, unsure of what to do or how to help. Her heart turned to stone in her chest, sinking a little further every time a pained retch filled the room.

"I'm sorry," Arietta said, wiping the river of tears from her face. "I'm sorry."

Octavia averted her eyes. Not your business, she reminded herself, and passed off the insufferable ache in her chest as heartburn. As she retreated into the corner and into herself, the bustle of activity engulfed her. Tallis and Lyra got Arietta's things while Sicero escorted the child to the foyer with Octavia following behind. 

Time blurred and stretched, and the next thing she knew, she was in a carriage, rolling to a stop in front of the florist. Sicero hopped out and took Arietta inside.

The cold quiet of the carriage sunk into Octavia, and she reached into her bag for a distraction. With her pen and journal, she recorded all the new information she'd learned about Sicero on his page.

Even with the distraction, her eyes kept drifting towards the door of the shop, and the ache settled in her chest again. Perhaps distancing herself wasn't the best course of action. Children often knew more than they let on, heard conversations they weren't supposed to hear.

And they'd been living with the scourge their whole lives. She may never admit it out loud but she worried for them. All this despair and destruction wasn't good for young minds.

The click of the carriage door cut into Octavia's thoughts, and she tucked her journal away as Sicero slid in next to her. He rubbed his hand together to warm them. "Eli said Arietta will be okay. She just has a hard time keeping down food these days."

"How long has she been sick?" The question slipped from her lips before she could think better of it.

"Years now." He stretched his legs as much as the carriage space allowed, assuming a more lax position. "She wasn't expected to live this long, but despite her plight, she's a very sweet child."

Octavia nodded her agreement and gazed out the carriage window, pushing away the dark thoughts that hung in her head. She watched the houses as they drifted by, quiet and still, with the only signs of life being the smoke curling from the chimneys. Grey clouds darkened the north sky with the promise of more snow.

As they crossed over the bridge, her eyes were drawn to the Council Hall. She hadn't explored that place either. But like the Cathedral, she couldn't simply show up uninvited. Were she a reckless person, she would've devised a plan to invoke the Council's ire.

"Miss Octavia?" Sicero asked, cutting into her thoughts. The sun streaming through the window made his eyes sparkle and dyed the tuff of white hair behind his ear orange. "If you don't mind me asking, what's it like in Otar?"

Her eyebrows shot up. She didn't recall telling him about her home.

"Sorry, your file came across my desk and I got a tad curious."

"I see. Otar is lovely." She smiled as she recalled the plateaus, the windy days and quiet nights, the fields of flowers in spring. "Most of its citizens descended from settlers who fled the southern isles during The War of Three Seas."

"It sounds much nicer than living in the Divine City. That place is all stone and mortar." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's more dangerous out here, in the thick of it all. But I feel more useful."

"Why did you join the priesthood? If you don't mind me asking."

"My village was destroyed by the netherborne, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. The priests took me in and I've been working for them since."

As Octavia searched her brain for a followup question, the carriage lurched to a stop in front of her residence. Damn, she wanted to ask him a bit about the other Council members. Another time. He seemed to be as interested in learning about her as she was about him.

She gathered her things and pulled the latch to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. "It seems the door is jammed."

Sicero reached over and fiddled with the latch. And as he did, Octavia could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, along with the scent of sweet spices–cinnamon and something else she didn't recognize. "There." The door clicked open and the cold air drifted in, snatching the warmth from the carriage's interior.

She stepped out and trudged through the snow to her front door with Sicero in her wake. A daywalker stood near the porch banister, eyes trained to the west as the sun's orange glow melted into twilight. Octavia resisted the urge to ring her bell and scare it away.

Instead, she turned to face Sicero. "Thank you for lunch. And for fixing the book."

"It was my pleasure. Take care, Miss Octavia." He gave her a smile and a nod.

"You too, Sicero."