Alina made her way to the garden, her breath sticking to the heat like silk on a drum.
The chapel garden smelled of summer, a bowl of warm air steeped in green.
No mercy in it—pure, unqualified heat, like a kiln with the door flung open.
Everywhere she looked, flowers wore cloaks of mottled leaves and whispered with the wind, swaying over the tender green earth.
White sunlight fell like milk, the sky rinsed to a hard blue, the breeze tracing faint paths, midges spiraling like sparks, fragrance drifting from blossoms—each a bright sign of a fierce and lovely hope.
Yet the death notice posted in the garden tilted that meaning, like a landscape reflected in a pond—edges sharp, but the color and warmth drained away.
Alina stepped closer and read the trembling paper, lips moving in silence.
“With profound sorrow, on behalf of the Molokov Bay Chapel, we announce to all residents of Naghtown that the esteemed pastoral worker, loving Priest, and spiritual mentor—Father Joseph Anthony McCarthy—passed away at 3:22 p.m. on Wednesday, June 17, 1880, in the hospital, at the age of sixty-six.
Father Joseph Anthony McCarthy was born on March 20, 1814, in Durant County. Guided by a holy calling from early years, he was ordained in 1834 at the Basilica of Petros in Durant County by John himself.
Across a pastoral career of more than sixty years, Father John, with deep theological learning, selfless devotion, warm pastoral care, and steadfast witness of faith, won the love and respect of many believers. He not only served as Priest at the Molokov Bay Chapel, but also organized religious activities and cared for the vulnerable.
All his life, the Priest practiced the teachings of the Goddess Ai’er. With humility, charity, and wisdom, he embodied their spirit. Even as his health declined in old age, he held his post, offering silent service to the Sacred Cathedral through prayer and contemplation.
In accordance with church funeral rites, the Priest’s body will lie in state for public viewing at the Molokov Bay Chapel at 3:00 p.m. on Thursday, June 18, 1880. The following morning, Friday, June 19, at 10:00 a.m., a solemn memorial service will be held at the same location. All believers, friends, and all who received the Priest’s care and blessing are welcome to attend, to pray for his soul and remember his radiant life.
After the service, the Priest’s body will be taken to the church cemetery, where an interment rite will be held according to the traditions of the faith of the Goddess Ai’er, that he may keep us company in his eternal resting place, until we meet again in heaven.
We earnestly ask all believers and kind-hearted people to offer prayers with devout hearts for Father Joseph Anthony McCarthy at this time of grief. May the Goddess receive him into a homeland of light and peace, grant him eternal rest, and give all mourners strength and comfort. With resilient faith, may we endure sorrow, inherit the legacy he left, and continue to bear witness to the love of the Goddess Ai’er in our lives.
May the Goddess bless you all.
Sister Bertha Kana, on behalf of the clergy of Molokov Bay Chapel
June 17, 1886.”
When she finished reading, Alina tore the death notice from the garden wall. She searched for a spot that would catch the eye from any direction and settled on the bare white wall beside the gate—only to find an identical notice already there.
“Cheryl! Why did you lock your friend in the lavatory?” Sister Bertha bore down on her, anger shaking her jowls like ripples on a stirred pond. She saw the paper in Alina’s hand and let out a quick “Oh my,” then, “Why’d you tear it down?”
“No one can see it in there,” Alina said, heat tight in her chest.
“You plan to post it here?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, the corner of the notice fluttering like a moth. “Turns out there’s one already.”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Fine… have you seen Melvina?”
Sister Bertha’s lips twitched, hesitation moving through her face like a pebble’s ripple across still water, deepening the lines at her brow, her eyes, even her earlobes—she made Alina think of a dry leaf, an old carving worn smooth.
Her expression stayed unreadable, a calm mask; but from Alina’s angle, a harshness coiled in the wrinkles, a tightness like someone ready to fight even without a scowl.
“Melvina…” Sister Bertha dabbed the damp shine from her neck with a handkerchief. Her gaze slid to the white wall by the garden gate. Her voice thinned to a thread. “She left.”
Alina’s heart snagged, then stilled. She tilted her head like a thinking cat, watching the nun from an odd, angled stillness.
“What do you want with her?” Sister Bertha asked after a beat.
“Today is Melvina’s sixteenth birthday.”
“I see…”
“You forgot?”
“She doesn’t celebrate birthdays.”
“But this is the day the Priest found her.” Alina rocked on her heels. The ribbon on the little cake box flicked in the breeze like a swallow’s tail, the notice edge shivering with it.
“Without a grateful heart… it’s all the same…”
“I’m not following. If you don’t know where she is, I’ll keep looking.”
“Leave Melvina for a moment. What are you planning?”
A sting of uncertainty rose; Alina bit her lip, then shook her head. “No plan.”
“After the funeral, some sisters want to leave and spread Father John’s teachings. You’re all grown now—if you’ve got no plan, think one up.”
“Where’s Melvina?”
“She’s entered an academy.” Sister Bertha’s voice wavered. “Her talent for magic is so high.”
“They told me the same.”
“You already knew?”
It felt like they were speaking past each other, but Alina still nodded. “When I took her to the forest, she told me she wanted to be a Professor of Magic.”
“In that case… leaving is a normal choice.”
“Leaving?”
Catching her slip, Sister Bertha went on smoothly. “Melvina went to Northstar City, while you were at the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because she wants to become a Professor of Magic.”
Alina’s face tightened into something strange. “That’s too much. She didn’t even visit the Priest.”
“The trains from Naghtown are few. If she’d gone to see Father John, she would’ve missed the last one.”
“She could’ve gone tomorrow—”
“The academy’s opening ceremony is today,” Sister Bertha cut in. “She’s probably still on the train.”
“Then it’s Melvina who owes the Priest an apology, not the other way around.”
“Father John apologized to Melvina?”
“He apologized to me.” Alina lifted her chin. “He mistook me for Melvina.”
“He might’ve been muddled.”
“No. He knew Melvina wasn’t there. He just needed someone to hear him.”
Sister Bertha let out a quiet breath, like steam fading in shade.
“Did Melvina do something wrong?” Alina pressed on. The cake ribbon stilled. The air lost all trace of wind. Sunlight speared the ground without mercy. “Why leave so suddenly? She was laughing with me in the forest.”
“You ask too much.”
“Is Northstar City far?”
“Half a day by train. A whole day by motorcar.”
“I’ll go find her tomorrow,” Alina said, and set the time down in her mind like a pin.
