"The crystal shines brightly, doesn't it?" an acolyte whispered, touching Agnes lightly on the shoulder. The mere memory of darkness swallowing the wind crystal whole send shudders throughout the Vestal's body. The young acolyte could feel it.
"It does," Agnes replied quietly. Every since the incident with Tiz had happened, she hadn't talked much. It felt rude to ignore her fellow acolytes, however. Agnes turned to the acolyte clad in silky robes. "I never had the chance to thank you for sheltering me when darkness sapped the crystal of all life. Thank you. I will never forget those who had fallen that fateful day." Tears brimmed in her eyes. Innocent, ambitious women willingly gave up their lives so that she, the Vestal, could escape. Everyone she loved and cared about vanished from the world faster than she could lament each loss. Tiz was only another.
"Lady Vestal, please." The acolyte touched a hand to the Vestal's heart, wishing to steal away any sorrow lurking within it. "It is our duty. That you saved our world is thanks enough for the ones who'd fallen."
"I...thank you," Agnes cried hoarsely, enveloping the acolyte in a warm hug. "I'm just glad the crystals had accepted me back into the Orthodoxy."
"Why is that?" the acolyte questioned curiously.
Agnes had never told anyone about her child. About her one night of weakness and the way her will to resist had slowly crumbled into nothingness. The way Tiz plunged into her with given consent. At the time it'd been blissful. She'd wanted a family. The idea of it all was purely logical. Now she'd constantly been in a worry that the crystals would never forgive her for her scandalous behaviour.
But they had. Agnes was eternally grateful.
"It's nothing. My tongue simply veered off course. That is all." Lying was relatively easy for the Vestal. It had always come naturally, even knowing that it was immoral. Perhaps it was now that she felt little guilt because of her lack of emotion building up inside. Everyone dying around her had hurt her so much that she built a barrier around her heart, impervious to any kind of feeling. The one thing that broke through the barrier, however, was little Yew. She didn't have to give him up. She didn't have to return to this life. But in the end, she had. Nowadays she did many things without being able to properly explain the reasoning behind her them. Hollow. She felt incredibly hollow.
The acolyte peered at her as if she could wholly see the truth, but decided not to prod any further. "I understand," she replied, releasing the Vestal. "If you ever need to talk, we're here for you."
Agnes nodded, watching the acolyte walk away. The crystal's bright light shone everywhere, giving everything a greenish hue. She peered back up at the crystal, cleared her thoughts, and prayed for the world's safety just as she'd been doing her whole life.
"I have to say, it was quite honourable of that woman to just give her son up like that," Ms. Geneolgia spoke, cuddling little Yew in her arms. He continued to fuss without showing any signs of stopping. This was not his mother. This was not his family. That was not his brother standing mere feet away from him. Little Yew cried, thrashing and flailing in the strange woman's strong grip.
"He'll just have to get used to life in the Geneolgia household," Griede chided, smoothing out Yew's ginger brown hair. He offered the child a biscuit, which the strong baby threw away instantaneously. His new mother bounced him up and down restlessly. His new brother, Denys, stood close enough to observe, but far enough to not make any rash commitments.
"Would if he never gets used to it here?" Ms. Geneolgia questioned, looking down at a distraught Yew with growing concern.
"With wealth, status, and a loving family, why wouldn't the boy adapt?" her husband replied with a carefree smile.
"I suppose, but…" she frowned. Her arms grew increasingly sore. They certainly had the funds to take the child in, but in a way it felt wrong to separate the child from his mother, even if she was seeking to give him away. "Did the lady even tell us his name?"
"No…" he pondered, placing a finger to his chin. Griede turned to face his eldest son, Denys. "What do you suppose we should call him, Son?" he asked.
Denys thought for a moment. He knew that royal families leaned toward naming their children royal sounding names, but being a child immersed in comic books and fantasies, knew of none. He was also bewildered. Why was the task being put onto him? Did they think that it would somehow link the two together forever? If so, they were dead wrong. "How about William?" he suggested, flinching. He expected the name to be shot down in an instant.
"William," Ms. Geneolgia repeated, trying the name on her tongue. "I like it," she added with a smile. "How about you, Griede?"
"I think it's a splendid name," he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. Seeing the smile on his eldest son's face also added to the uplifting swing of things. He sighed with happiness and relief. "It's settled then. We officially welcome William Geneolgia into our family, forever one of us."
Everyone except William, formerly named Yew, was overjoyed.