Crux of the Paragon.

It was quiet within the cathedral of the Paragon. Aelem wondered why Knights, of all people, would come to a place of worship, when all Gods had long-since died, at least by Omen’s telling of tales.

“We pray to the Nephilim, those who have given us the power to protect the Misted Veil.” Omen spoke with a smile, as if all-knowing in regards to Aelem’s curiosity. “Although, that also speaks to why we are told to hunt down Leviathans- the Nephilim have never liked the Dragons, and vice-versa.”

“Why do the Nephilim dislike the dragons?” Aelem asked of him.

“War aggrieves all, and many hold grudges.” He spoke simply in response.

The ceiling was held up by fantastical marbled arches, and coloured stained-glass windows sat upon the ceiling, allowing faint sunlight to bathe the room in bright, vivid colours. At the far-end of the cathedral, a carved-stone statue of a giant being had been erected, one with sunken, concave eyes, and a hollow, gaping mouth that seemed as if it could swallow all.

There were pews organised in large rows, facing the statue as if meant purely to worship its image. Aelem took a seat in one of the rows, and the Knights sat softly beside her. Howl’s face held a callous expression, as usual, and Lace had a quiet, joyous smile on her face as she took small sips from a brightly-coloured flask.

“Why does your hair sparkle like gold?” Aelem asked of the Butterfly Knight. “Are you really a doll, made of precious metals and gems?”

“You really like asking questions, don’t you?” Omen laughed softly. “Does your curiosity know no bounds?”

“I know nothing, so I would like to know everything…” Aelem spoke quietly in response. “Is that wrong?”

“Not at all.” Omen shook his head. “But you speak rather like a doll, in regards to your droning tone. So in most regards, wouldn’t it be better, to call yourself doll-like?”

“Dolls are meant to be pretty. I don’t think quite like that about myself.”

Omen’s porcelain cheeks held a faint blush as he sat beside Aelem, an expression of surprise that quickly carved itself into a smile.

“You’re really talented at casually complimenting someone, when you know not of it yourself.” He laughed softly.

Aelem shook her head in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m not the best at… speaking with people…” She spoke in a hushed tone. “At least, not without being yelled at in response…”

Suddenly, the door to the cathedral opened up, and the air fell frostbitten in an instant. The once open environment grew dim, and strangling in its pressure. The lamplight flickered intensely, and heads turned to meet the massive silhouette that stood in the marbled archway.

Omen quickly pulled the hood of Aelem’s cloak over her head, and pushed her down low as if to hide her.

“There’s a new presence in the Monastery.” The silhouette spoke gruffly. “Why…?”

His voice was deep and booming; it echoed throughout the Cathedral, settling in the rafters where it fell against the stinging air. As he stepped into the lamplight, Aelem could see that his gaze, which sat upon her, had greyed over. He was a blind man who could not see, yet he seemed to be staring straight at her regardless.

“Who are you, and why have you all allowed her in here?” He asked of them.

There was silence between the Knights, as their eyes fell towards the ground.

“I asked you a question.” He spoke once more, directing his gaze towards Omen.

He seemed to tense upon as the man’s eyes fell upon him, yet still he managed to squeak out a hushed response.

“She’s a traveler, Master.” He spoke quietly in response.

“When will she be gone?” He asked with a cold tone, his sharpened irises falling upon Aelem’s shoddily-cloaked form.

His gaze felt terrible upon Aelem’s skin, as if the weight of his demeanor fell upon her like the ceiling had caved in atop her. Her blood and bones felt heavy, as if she had been pinned to the ground in his presence, and her hands shook intensely.

“Soon, Sir.” Omen spoke quietly, averting his gaze as he spoke to the man of briars and gold.

“Soon.” The man echoed, turning his entire, towering body away from the group as he stepped back out of the cathedral, and into the maze of the Monastery’s hallway.

As soon as he had left, all three Knights let out a massive, collective sigh. Aelem, however, fidgeted around in her seat, her shaking hands holding each other as if to console.

“I feel nauseous…” Aelem spoke quietly.

Omen looked over towards the vermilion woman, placing a hand atop her head as he had noticed her trembling demeanor.

“His presence tends to do that.” Omen smiled softly. “If he were any other man, he wouldn’t be my father. You get used to it after a while, but I’m hoping we won’t have to keep you hidden here long enough for that to happen.”

“I see. Thank you for your concern, Sir.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

“Eh? Why call me sir?” Omen exclaimed with widened eyes.

“It seems that is what a man will call another man when they want to show subservience. Is it not the same for me?”

Instantly, Lace spit out her drink, spilling bright puddles upon the floor as she burst out laughing. Clutching at her sides, it looked as if she couldn’t catch a single breath amidst her amusement. In turn, Omen’s doll-like face had lit up a bright red, and his smile had faded to a flustered, bemused expression.

“We almost got caught by the Crux, and all you can do is act like children…” Howl grimaced. “Have some sense- to be less of fools, and more of Knights…”

Quickly, he adjourned from the chamber, shutting the door loudly behind him. To his outburst, the two Knights could only laugh further.

Aelem’s face lit up bright in that moment. In the room around her, she felt warmth. It was not cold and lonely, sitting beside the laughing Knights. So, softly she smiled, and felt at peace beside company she kept dear.