Year 850

A choking gasp startled Katrine awake, the taste in her mouth foul and fuzzy. Her head pounded, exacerbated by the blinding sunlight streaming through her window, clearly past noon. Groaning, she dropped her head back on the pillow, but suddenly lifted it back up and narrowed her eyes. That was odd. She remembered solving the code and collapsing on the floor, but beyond that, nothing.

Actually, there was one thing. Her mother, consisting of only a voice and those thin dry hands, wondering why she hadn't opened that green book filled with the beautiful script even once since she'd returned from Utopia. It was the first she'd dreamed of her mother since then. Must've been too busy, Katrine assumed. Even though it did tug at the back of her mind, there were a thousand other things to do that took priority, the first of which was to figure out what those priests were hiding. So, her mother could disappear back to wherever she came from. And she had some nerve to chide Katrine for being distracted by a man. Like mother, like daughter, apparently.

Clearing her throat, Katrine leaned off the side of the bed and groped for the papers. When she found them she rolled onto her back, trying to read slowly so she could properly analyze the words, but soon her eyes rushed down the pages. Panic swelled.

By the grace of Ymir, who granted us such power, bestowed first upon the daughters of King Fritz, and thus his grandson King Oscar, and thus his son King Florian...and on and on and on, down the first three pages and a large portion of the fourth. Katrine tried to steady her racing heart and quick breathing, but this was useless, just a giant list of names, an adulating testimony to their power. A steady stream of curses torrented out her mouth. And thus his daughter Queen Eleanor, and thus her grandson King Phillip… The only deviance was a King Karl who was deemed "father of the Walls," but then more of the same. Had she really spent all this effort just for this self-serving bullshit? She'd expected something useful that would prove how clever she was, but this was a failure. Infuriatingly, Erwin would just nod and move to the next lead, with or without her. She refused to think about what Levi would do.

...and thus his son King Uri, and finally to his brother King Rod, long may he live.

Katrine stopped, brow furrowed. That didn't make sense. When she'd lived in Mitras the king's name was Friedrich Fritz, and when he died there'd been a stately funeral procession culminating in the coronation of his son, William Fritz. Who was Rod, or Uri? Maybe they were pseudonyms. But what was the point of using fake names in a letter already in code? And who or what was Ymir?

Noting those concerns, Katrine continued. Despite the quick repair, the citizens of Stohess are rightly concerned regarding the exposure of the Walls, though Father Lucian's efforts to quell fear have been effective. Hange had told her about that, the eerie face of a Titan gazing down at them, and thought that there could be more. But why hide dead Titans in the Walls? And if they were just sleeping, then could they wake up? The letter went on to state that the citizens who'd seen it had been compensated for their troubles, and a few defiant ones punished; Katrine desperately hoped Josephine and Aster had seen nothing.

However, Commander Smith demanded answers of Mayor Grimmer, far too many, and must be reminded of his position. Commander Dok has been notified and the proper arrangements have been made. That sounded dire, and the cold prick of worry surprised her. She usually didn't spare much concern for Erwin.

As a happy coincidence, the repair of Wall Sina was a perfect time to test the effectiveness of the hardening solution, which exceeded expectations thanks to the tireless research of Father Lucian. Of the subjects gathered, four tested well, though regrettably the remaining twelve— And there it ended, one lonely sentence trailing off onto the otherwise empty page. Katrine glared at it, grinding her teeth, as if the words might materialize from the recesses of her brain. They didn't.

What was a hardening solution? Wouldn't the Wall be repaired with stones? And research, the subjects gathered? This sounded like something a doctor or scientist would write, not a priest. The word "regrettably" seemed darker than the others, threatening; what horrible thing happened to twelve that didn't to four? Suddenly she remembered Josephine, wide-eyed and fingers taut, recounting the boy sprinting from the cathedral. Now it seemed more sinister than just an instance of not wanting to sing more hymns.

Katrine sighed. More questions, and no answers. She didn't even know who wrote the letter, or to whom it was addressed. Begrudgingly, she wished Erwin was awake so he could read it. He'd find a pattern, read between the lines, and pull out something she'd never think to find. He'd probably say to consider what the Cult didn't include in the letter and if that had any significance.

There was nothing related to the paintings, nor anything that hinted at evidence of other people living outside the Walls. That was disappointing. She gazed at the letters hacked into her wall and wondered dimly if it would have been better to carve them somewhere else so they wouldn't loom over her every night in her sleep. There also wasn't anything related to Hange's question of whether humans could be turned into Titans. What the hell was she supposed to do with the information not in the letter? That didn't help at all. She tossed her legs off the bed and slammed her feet on the floor. Thanks, Erwin.

Katrine would have gladly gone to Hange, but she was in Ragako. There was Levi, but she was too uncertain about what the letter meant and would not look stupid in front of him. She could already imagine his narrowed eyes that somehow looked down on her even though she was taller. He'd ask if she hadn't figured it out already because she was too distracted by her sparkling new ashtray. She wasn't going to dance over and lay down in the palm of his hand just to be crushed.

Stomach rumbling, Katrine quickly combed out the tangles in her hair and braided it again, avoiding looking at the symbols reflected in the mirror. Next came the lipstick, brazen red. Combined with the right sneer and a tilt of the head, anyone with questions might rethink asking them.

The kitchens were nearly empty; only those scrounging for an early lunch were there. Katrine grabbed a bowl and scooped out the dregs of the morning's oatmeal, lumpy and pathetic, and with a furtive glance dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar on top. After surveying the occupants of the dining hall, she was relieved to find Mila sitting alone reading a newspaper with her chin nestled in her palm. Katrine plunked her bowl down and collapsed onto the bench, spine creaking.

"Hope you kept your nose clean while I was gone." She took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss when the sugar hit her tongue. "Where's Elisabeth?"

Mila stirred her bowl of soup. "Sitting outside his room. She didn't want company." She set her spoon down and grinned at Katrine, her eyes shining. "It's been long enough, tell me what happened!"

"Erwin's thinking of joining the Cult, so he wanted me to drop off his application for the priesthood at the cathedral." Katrine shoved more oatmeal in her mouth. Erwin liked to keep his plans confidential, but if Mila really wanted to know, she'd probably spill. She spun the newspaper toward her and glanced at the contents, a cover story on the Church's construction of an orphanage in Orvud.

Mila threw her spoonful of soup back in the bowl and leveled her with an exacting stare. "I'm not asking about that."

That question was actually worse. "Would you believe Levi complained for twenty minutes about his broken ankle? It was awful!"

"I wouldn't, I've never heard him speak more than two sentences at once."

Not her best lie. Must have been the lack of sleep. "Okay, pretty awkward. He looked pained the entire time and probably wanted to abandon me in the cathedral. But it doesn't matter. Barely thought about him with this whole Cult thing."

"That's it?" Mila looked doubtful.

The pressure of his fingers dug into her waist again, the sticky sensation of blood combined with the heat of his neck blazing across her skin. The spoon trembled in her hand. "Yes."

"Katrine?" A voice cut in from behind and, for the first time in her life, she was thankful for a male interruption.

"Johan!" She smiled wolfishly, aware of Mila's reddening face. "Practicing your arabesques, I hope?"

"Right, about that." Jean touched his neck. "So, did we pass the test and will you help us with ODM?"

Katrine had hoped that they'd forgotten about that, or that she'd scared them off; evidently, multiple intelligent Titans in their cadre made them impervious to fear. She rubbed her forehead, suddenly exhausted. "Look, I've got this big assignment from Commander Erwin, and…"

He nodded, but something pitiful in his expression made her heart sink. Stupid, feeling sympathy for him. He really was trying too hard.

"We're leaving soon, Jean," someone called out from the entrance.

"Be right there." His jaw twitched in desperation. "But, please, what happened back there, I can't afford not to."

"I don't—"

"Jean!" Levi's voice was a blast from a cannon, assaulting her on all sides. He can't be here, she wasn't ready! Katrine snatched up the newspaper and opened it to shield her face. Jean flinched but didn't immediately run off as he should have. She needed him gone, immediately.

"Sometime next week!" She held the paper so close that her breath blew back into her face.

"Thank you!" Out of the corner of her eye, he saluted and darted away. Still holding the paper up, she rested her head on the table and groaned, covering her ears with it.

"Are you alright?" Mila asked.

"Should've failed them all back there," she muttered.

"What did he mean, pass the test?"

Katrine straightened and peeked over the paper; no sight of him. Muscles slowly easing, she tossed the misaligned pages back on the table. "He wants me to teach him the art of flight. But really, you can't teach genius, I'm like a hawk and he's just a—"

"When you train him, invite me!" The words came out in a high-pitched rush.

She waggled her eyebrows. "I can facilitate that. But you need to learn how to speak to him first instead of turning bright red. Isn't that a basic in relationships?"

"No offense, but I'll get advice on that matter elsewhere."

Stunned, Katrine grabbed her spoon and threw herself over the table to smack Mila's forehead.

The gems in the ashtray were not real, the jeweler said, just colored glass and worth no more than the magnifying glass he'd used to inspect it. He said this to her chest, not her face, despite the fact that her dress buttoned at the neck and she had barely any breasts to speak of. That was the price of business, though; they clamped their mouths shut and suddenly had nothing to trade when she wore her uniform.

Exiting the shop, Katrine barely heard the bell ringing behind her. The gray skies that greeted her that morning spat out a light drizzle and the streets of Trost were muddy and abandoned. Spinning the ashtray between her thumb and forefinger, the gold paint grew slick and the glass stones glittered with drops of rain. She should have been annoyed, but either the cool air or the revelation that a wealthy cathedral in Stohess resorted to fakery dampened the feeling.

After spending the previous day poring over the letter for clues she may have missed, Katrine thought that a walk to the other side of Trost would help clear her head. It failed miserably. Every child she saw scampering down the streets or clinging to their mother's hand reminded her of Josephine's story. Cecily too, screaming so loud her lungs could burst. There was nothing in the letter specifically about children, but the last line of the letter was so odious, she couldn't help wondering if they were related. But really, no one in their right mind would condone harming a child, especially something as gruesome-sounding as experiments, and the Cult touted its belief in their purity. Certainly in Stohess, the children of wealthy parents would certainly be missed. And doctors did their experiments on rodents, not children. Stupid, stupid. Josephine always exaggerated.

But how could she believe that when she'd been plucked from the Underground for someone else's use?

Turning a corner, Katrine found three soldiers gathered underneath the eave of a bar and her thoughts scattered. Though she couldn't see their faces the purple blur on the back of one's jacket was unmistakable. Katrine frowned, considering changing her direction, but curiosity kept her walking straight toward them. What were MPs doing in Trost? There was no reason for them to stray far from the comforts of Wall Sina.

"This was supposed to take five days, tops. Wife's gonna be pissed," one said, toeing at a puddle with his boot.

The stocky soldier with an overgrown beard nodded. "He's awake. Just load him up and get going."

Katrine halted. Her mind flashed to Erwin. What would they want with him? She quieted her steps, straining to hear.

"He just woke up. Can't go busting in immediately. Propriety and all," the tallest soldier said with a shrug.

"About that, Peter. He lived, so pay up," the bearded man said.

Peter groaned and dug through his pocket. "Could've sworn he'd croak! Yet again the Scouts let me down."

He is awake! And nobody thought to tell me? Katrine attempted to swallow down her exasperated groan but twitched when Peter met her eyes. Instead, a choked yelp escaped her lips and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

The other soldiers turned at the noise. "What do you want?" the tallest asked, folding his arms.

"Ah...Is Mitras really as pretty as they say?" Smile, don't be suspicious! She stretched her lips into a pained grin and clasped her hands behind her.

"For the most part, when you're not working," Peter said.

The short man stroked his beard. "But the royal palace of Mitras is so beautiful, a triumph of architecture and human achievement!"

"Not again," the tall man grumbled.

"Really?" She willed herself to stay perfectly still and not bounce on her toes in anticipation.

"When I grew up in Krolva I always dreamed of standing under the great stained glass window of the Three Sisters of the Walls, and the buttresses are a feat of engineering! It was the only reason I even joined the MPs in the first place—"

"Thanks!" Katrine pivoted and sprinted away, suspiciousness be damned. If Erwin really was awake, he needed to see the letter and tell her his thoughts. She darted through alleyways and splashed through puddles, wiping the rain from her face, cursing herself for deciding to walk so far from headquarters.

Once Katrine reached the Scouts' compound and burst into her room, threw the ashtray on her bed, and snatched up the papers, she found Erwin's quarters and barged inside without knocking. If he hadn't heard her thundering footsteps, then he'd probably lost his hearing, too.

Upon seeing Erwin lying in bed and Levi sitting beside him, she immediately wished she'd let him come to her instead. She was so used to his immaculately combed hair and crisply starched shirts that it was disconcerting to find him with bags under his eyes and stubble. The bandage wrapped around what was left of his arm was visible and wincing, she imagined the blood and splintering bone. His expression, however, was expectant and revealed no hint of pain.

"From the cathedral," she said, breaking the silence and holding up the papers.

"Going somewhere?" Levi asked dryly, resting his elbows on his knees.

Suddenly the collar of the dress strangled her, and its fraying seams and speckles of mud must have been glaringly obvious. That damn ashtray was supposed to buy her a new one. Her belated annoyance surged to her fingers and she wished she hadn't left it behind so she could throw it at his head. He had no right to say anything about her. "Yes, somewhere important," she snapped. I should have known he'd be here! Redirecting her attention, she turned to Erwin. "You look awful." She didn't think she'd be too torn up if he died, but admittedly was relieved he was alive. He was too smart to go like that.

Levi threw her a withering look, but Erwin smiled. "I can't disagree. So, what did you find?"

She handed the papers to him and sat in the empty chair facing his bed. "They mention you, hope you're flattered."

He took them in his one remaining hand. How was he so calm and accepting of the injury? She would scream and rage and swear death upon all Titans. She fiddled with her hair, waiting for him to finish, and studied the mud on her boots, refusing to look at either of them. Levi only glanced at her when she entered and his eyes immediately darted back to Erwin, like he was ready to shove him back down if he decided to get out of bed.

Finished, Erwin passed the pages to Levi. "Unless no one's informed me of a coronation, Rod Reiss is not the name of our current king."

"Right," Katrine said. "And the previous one's wrong, too."

"The last ten are wrong," Erwin said.

"How do you know that?" Levi asked, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Erwin smiled. "I had to memorize royal genealogy for an exam once. When I was eleven."

Levi's eyebrows raised a fraction. A pang of jealousy twinged in Katrine's throat; she wished she'd been the one to know that.

"This list has far more kings than I'm aware of," he continued.

"Huh?" Katrine brushed the end of her braid against her palm.

"I know of thirteen kings. This list has more than I can count."

"It might be a code," Levi said. "Not literal kings, but something else."

"It doesn't make sense to have a code within a code. Unless they're really trying to hide something," Erwin said. "Coincidentally, one of the cadets just revealed that she'd been going by a false name. Her real name is Historia Reiss. A possible relative of Rod Reiss?"

Katrine shrugged. She didn't know if Reiss was a particularly rare surname. "Why's that matter? The interesting stuff's at the end, and I didn't even get to see it all." She wrinkled her nose at Levi, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he tapped the pages.

"There's a Ymir, too. That's the name of the girl who also transformed into a Titan."

"That another one of yours, Levi? You're just a magnet for them, aren't you?"

"I was with you when it happened, dumbass."

"Pastor Nick said that Christa Lenz knew about the history of the Walls." Erwin's gaze drifted toward the window. "Historia," he corrected.

"Who?" Katrine asked.

"Another 104th cadet. Historia Reiss, like I said. She seems to have some connection to the Cult. And now, this Rod Reiss."

"And you're sure she's not an intelligent Titan?"

Erwin chuckled. "Guess we'll see. At first, I wondered if she was a spy, but if she's related to Rod Reiss, then she might be something else. However, if the Cult is saying Reiss is the true king, then this doesn't just involve them. It's possible the government is in the Cult's pocket, or vice versa."

"Who cares about the government?" Katrine pointed at the papers in Levi's hands. "They're talking about testing, and research, and then 'regrettably the twelve?' I don't like the sound of that."

"They're probably trying to find a way to turn their shit to gold," Levi said.

Katrine threw up her hands and started to reply, but Erwin cut her off. "That is curious," he said like he hadn't heard Levi. "And a hardening solution? Used on the Walls, or humans?"

"How'd you jump to that conclusion?" If Erwin wondered the same thing, then were her concerns justified? The damp fabric of her dress sent a chill down her back.

"Why write an entire letter in code if this research is inconsequential? Though accusing the Cult of conducting experiments on people might be a rushed judgment." Erwin took the letter back from Levi and flipped to the last page. "Unfortunate place to end. How did you find this?"

Katrine pointed at Levi. "He's the one who knows how to find secret compartments in desks. I suggest you be careful about anything important in yours."

Erwin's lips curled in a slight smile. "Good to know. No other letters?"

"Nope, that's it. The long and the short of it," she answered but directed at Levi. His eyes drifted from Erwin to her, though he remained motionless with his arms folded. Erwin held up the first page to the light of his window, as if there were a message hidden behind the words, and muttered to himself. Katrine ground her soggy boot into the floor and cursed herself for wasting that insult on an unreceptive audience.

"They never used the word 'Titan.' I was hoping they would, given what Hange's discovered," Erwin said.

"She seems to think that Titans could be humans since some cadet said his mother's been turned into one, but I didn't see anything that confirmed it in the letter." Katrine reclined in her chair. "Is she back?"

"You just missed her, actually. Turns out her theory has more weight to it. Connie Springer's certain the Titan in Ragako is his mother," Erwin said.

"Just say it, Erwin," Levi said. "You think Titans are humans."

Time stopped, the floor beneath her disappeared, and the blood in her veins evaporated. Titans are humans. But how? Spontaneously? If humans just exploded into Titans randomly, then it would have happened in a city somewhere, so what caused this? And, more importantly, since there were Titans crawling outside Wall Maria and beyond, were those also people beforehand? She thought she heard Erwin say something, but she couldn't comprehend it. That was the only conclusion, the only logical explanation, and that brilliant shining paradise actually existed, waiting for her, for her!

"Katrine?" Erwin looked at her expectantly.

"Where'd the other ones come from?" she blurted. She knew it was just a theory, but her hope soared, sending her knee bouncing.

"The other what?"

"The other Titans beyond Wall Maria, if those were people then where did they come from?" Katrine pitched forward in her chair. "If they're people first, they must live somewhere."

Erwin frowned. "That's a good question, but—"

"The painting, the painting!" Katrine slapped her knee. "Levi, you remember, the painting with people in the water?"

He nodded. "But all those paintings were strange. Like fever dreams."

"Yes, right, but there was a painting in the Edelweiss Cathedral depicting people walking through water," Katrine explained. Erwin nodded, rapt. "And there was writing at the bottom that said they were marching across the sea. Hange said seas were too deep for people to just walk across, but they really looked like people."

Levi shook his head. "You should know people can't walk on water."

Katrine ignored him. "They were people, Erwin!"

Erwin tapped his lips. "What other paintings were there?"

"One with some tall furry animal? But it was walking like a person. I didn't get a good look at it."

"I wouldn't be surprised if there's more in the church in Trost," Erwin said. "Since they were all attacked by intelligent Titans, maybe Stohess, Trost, and Shiganshina are connected in some way..." He trailed off, lost in thought. Katrine pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the wild grin threatening to explode, and willed herself not to move. People! Somewhere else! If the Scouts killed thousands of Titans, then that's thousands of people, who lived somewhere with thousands more people, thousands more places that must be better than here—

"You can go by yourself to Shiganshina," Levi said to Katrine. "Count me out of that shithole."

Katrine dropped her shoulders, trance broken. "Then my blood will be on your hands. And more break-ins?" She turned to Erwin. "So you think you're above the law?"

"I do hate using you for shady purposes, though I'm sure you're not too offended. Sorry to disappoint you, Levi, but a trip to Shiganshina is inevitable. Whatever Cult building there could be just as important as that basement."

"Basement?" Katrine had never heard of this and wondered with a flare of pique why no one bothered to inform her of that, either.

"Eren Jaeger had a key that he claims opens his father's basement," Erwin said. "He doesn't know what's down there, but if he can turn into an intelligent Titan, then possibly his father knew about it, even if Eren didn't. His father was a doctor. I wonder if that relates to this testing they mention."

"Does no one think to tell me these things?"

Erwin shook his head. "You were in Utopia—"

"I'll go to the church here," Katrine interrupted. Her exile was not to be mentioned.

"You'll have to do it yourself," Levi said. "Eren needs to get stronger."

"It's fine," Katrine said. "Maybe I'll get Miche to come. He'll sniff it out for me." Her comment was met with a heavy silence, the one that always came whenever someone had died or disappeared, and she immediately felt guilty for the offhand remark. Miche had actually snorted at a quip she'd made at the last meeting they'd had, which was a pleasant surprise.

"He hasn't returned, so we have to assume the worst," Erwin said.

"I'll take a squad member, then." That felt too dry, and she looked down at her boots. There was a crescent of mud caked around the toe, something Levi would criticize.

Erwin shifted, adjusting the pillow behind his back. "You could always go to Mitras."

Anger bubbled behind her forehead. "Is that a suggestion, or an order?" Levi shot her a look, one that told her to calm down, and she ignored it. Erwin had already dragged her to the capital once, and that was once too many. She'd cut off his other arm if he ordered her there.

"Always good to have someone in Mitras," he said evenly. "And if this letter is any indication, some people might be banging on my door soon enough."

Katrine remembered the soldiers huddled together, discussing that Erwin was awake. "I saw MPs today."

"I saw them too," Levi said. "You should have a guard here."

"Not necessarily. I don't want to arouse too much suspicion. And, it might be strategic to let them think they've got me."

"Sure you didn't get knocked on the head too?"

Erwin laughed. "Possibly."

"You must be tired." Levi rose to his feet and Katrine followed.

"On the contrary, this has given me a lot to think about," Erwin said, straightening the papers on his lap. "Let me know what you find, Katrine."

She nodded curtly and was out the door in three strides, heading toward the stairs. Those experiments; Erwin thought the Cult could use humans, too, and she hadn't even told him about Josephine and Cecily. Maybe he knew more than he let on. She wished he hadn't said it, though, and now that disquieting notion creeping in the back of her mind had grown stronger. There needed to be something in Trost's church to disprove the suspicion so she didn't have to obsess over the possibility anymore.

"Hey." Levi's voice echoed down the hallway and stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to watch him close the door behind him. "You need to be careful."

"I'm always careful."

"No, you're not." Approaching her, Levi leveled his gaze on her, the same steely look he'd given Erwin that revealed nothing of what he thought of the new information. "You have your knife? They're probably already onto us. I don't like what that letter said."

Katrine continued down the stairs. "I already have a plan," she said over her shoulder.

"What?" He caught up to her.

She stopped abruptly, enough for him to move down another step, and she seized the chance to lord her height over him. "I think I'll just burn the whole thing down." He wasn't intimidated, because that was impossible, but his grip tightened on the banister. He didn't look at her chest or her muddy boots but directly into her eyes, the severe midnight blue disarming her of any barb she had left to throw. Involuntarily her gaze shifted to his neck. The bandage was gone, along with the stitches, though a few faint marks remained.

"Maybe you can tighten your plan instead of harassing my subordinates."

"Excuse me?" Her voice was airy, detached.

"Don't play dumb. Connie keeps bitching about his hamstrings."

She smiled blandly and continued to the bottom of the stairs. "I don't think I've ever met Connie."

He was silent for a moment but followed her. "If it's true that there are other people out there, don't get any bright ideas about running off."

"If I do, it'll have to wait until after this Cult business."

"I saw that look on your face. You're the only one crazy enough to try it."

Suddenly exposed, her skin felt icy like she was back outside in the rain. "So, you think it's true?" She said it nonchalantly like the thought had never crossed her mind.

Levi opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and glanced behind him. That was surprising; he wasn't one to hesitate. "Maybe. I'm not the one who gets paid to think about it." He must have some thought on the matter, evidently not for her to know. "Be careful. I'd prefer not to drag your corpse out of a church."

Katrine sighed. "Fine, I will." Having lost the battle, she pivoted to the left, retreating not to anywhere specific but away from him. She marched to the first archway and grasped the doorjamb to propel herself out of his presence faster, but out of the corner of her eye saw that he was still standing there, watching her with that probing gaze that could read every emotion that flashed across her face. Her steps slowed. He blinked, caught, and with a slight shake of his head climbed back up the stairs. Strange. She must have tracked mud somewhere. But she banished the image and the quiver in the pit of her stomach back to oblivion. There was a plan to form, and first, she needed to find out what a nun wore.

Mila pulled at her long woolen skirt. "These are so scratchy! Who made them wear these?"

"The priests, obviously. The sight of a bare leg would drive them insane." Katrine reached to tug at her hair and when she clawed at empty air, remembered it was coiled atop her head in a tight knot and hidden in a hood, just like the rest of the nuns at the church. Faces scrubbed clean and clad in dull gray, they looked like enormous rats ready for infiltration.

After knocking on the splintered side door, where she'd earlier spied nuns darting in and out, a goateed man answered. The heavy medallions around his neck glinted in the dying sunlight.

"Good evening, Brother, Sister Alison and I have come for cleaning," Katrine said in a clipped tone, holding up her bucket.

"Who are you? Sister Meredith does the cleaning at this time." His eyes were mistrusting.

"I'm Sister Rachel. It was a very last-minute switch, and we owed her a favor."

"Her brother's ill," Mila piped up. Katrine bit her tongue and prayed Sister Meredith actually had a brother.

"I see, but she really should have informed me."

"It was an emergency," Katrine said.

"It's bad." Mila hissed through her teeth. "She thinks he has the sweats."

The man's face paled. "Good heavens," he said, clutching his medallions. "Then you best clean right away." He stepped aside and waved them in, careful not to touch them as if they too had the sweats. His narrowed eyes and repulsed tone momentarily reminded her of Levi, and her insecurity fluttered. It was easier to follow whatever he said than figure out everything on her own.

The church was small and cramped, modest in comparison to the splendor of Edelweiss Cathedral. From her position at the door, Katrine could immediately see the altar, mismatched pews, and a hallway of closed doors. There were no paintings, only wooden walls that begged for a fresh coat of paint. A dusty window looked out to a courtyard where lines of sheets hung to dry.

"The laundry's finished. The cart's out there," the priest said. Katrine already knew as that was where she and Mila had purloined their woolens the day before. "And please do not disturb Father Lucian, he is in his office."

Father Lucian. A figure mentioned by both the letter and the ministers at Edelweiss Cathedral. He must be high-ranking if the Cult spoke of him with such reverence. Obviously, there would be interesting things hiding in his office.

"Yes, Brother," Katrine said, grasping Mila's arm and starting for the courtyard. "Lies don't have to be that embellished!" she hissed.

"Sorry!"

The courtyard was crisscrossed with lines of rope, wide white sheets motionless in the eerily still air. Katrine watched the windows as she folded the sheets, but the dusty glass and sun's glare impeded her vision. She wiped a trail of sweat away from her brow and reached for her hair again.

"Fresh faces! I don't believe I've met the two of you before?" The shadow of an enormous man taller than Erwin blocked the fading sunlight. His smile took up half his face, and his gums nearly all that half.

"I'm Sister Alison, and this is Sister Rachel. We're visiting from Utopia," Mila said cheerily. Katrine arranged her face into a neutral expression that hopefully didn't look too unnatural. A drop of rain splattered on her nose, causing her to frown.

"Terrible weather we've been having recently. It'll pour tonight, I can smell it!" The priest guffawed, his face flushing. "Forgive my manners, I'm Father James. Now, Utopia, you say? When I say terrible weather, you've certainly experienced worse!"

Katrine held a sheet in front of her face as if to fold it and scowled at him. A light flickered in one of the smaller windows. It had to be from one of the closed doors.

"Oh, you would not believe! This is nothing compared to Utopia." Mila cupped a hand to her mouth. "One time, Brother Rolf forgot to take the wine bottles out of the cellars, and they all froze! Father Darius nearly broke one over his head!" The two roared with laughter.

Mila chattered with Father James as Katrine finished folding the sheets and stacked them in the basket. Once the rain began to fall in earnest, Mila got the priest to carry two baskets indoors and a promise to treat her to the best spiced mutton in Trost, without even asking.

"Maybe I was wrong about embellishing," Katrine said as they strode back to the church's nave loaded with rags and silver polish.

Mila twisted back to wave to Father James. "Who do you think I learned it from?"

"I don't embellish." Katrine noted the single door that had a crack of light at the bottom. However, when she casually rested her hand on the handle and pressed down, it didn't budge.

There were few silver objects on the altar to polish, so Katrine took her time and walked around looking for clues. No slips of paper hidden in knots in the wood, no carvings on the goblets, nothing. She could always dawdle, but how late could they stay before they were suspicious? She couldn't think of anything else to clean. Yet another thing Levi would have been much better at.

"Oh, Father Lucian, turning in for the night? Or are you starting back for Mitras?"

Katrine's eyes darted up from the altar. At the other side of the room, a man in a stark white gown stood before the door, turned to the shriveled-faced nun who'd asked the question. The protruding belly indicated he ate well, but shadows concealed his features.

"I won't make it to Mitras until tomorrow, not until I finish this missive." His voice was smooth and untroubled.

"You be careful. I heard there've been burglaries in Stohess."

The man chuckled. "There's not much of interest here unless they're looking for my scrawlings on acts of contrition."

The nun laughed and wished him a good evening, and Lucian left. Katrine and Mila exchanged a glance, and Katrine motioned to wait until the other nun was gone. "Wait five minutes," she whispered, setting down her goblet, and began counting the seconds. Mila nodded, her lips tight.

After she determined they were safe, the two picked up their buckets and headed for Lucian's office. The door opened smoothly and though Katrine poked her head in first, the room was empty.

Everything in the office was minuscule in comparison to the enormous painting hanging opposite the door. Despite the weak moonlight, the subject was clear: a massive tree, branches grasping toward a scarlet sky, utterly black except for a hole at the trunk that encased a faint glow of light blue. Katrine rushed inside, searching for the writing she knew would be at the bottom, and found it and a little number two in the corner.

"What is this?" Mila asked.

"The tree of life," Katrine whispered. She'd never seen anything like it, not even in the forests where the trees stretched up for what felt like forever, ones she'd climbed and sat atop to gaze down at the world. This looked like it held the entrance to another dimension.

She forced her eyes to the desk. Remembering what Levi had done, Katrine opened and felt the bottoms of each empty drawer and then knelt to press at the back.

"What are you doing?" Mila whispered.

"If he's hiding something, it won't be out in the open."

"But how do you know it's down there?"

"People aren't that creative!"

Mila nodded, wide-eyed and impressed. Katrine's pride swelled, but deflated when she didn't find a false back. She scraped at the edges with her fingernails; she must not be pressing hard enough.

"Ah! Excuse me, ladies." A male voice cut through the silence, sending Mila skittering a few inches backward. Katrine's fingers tensed into claws.

"Father Lucian!" Mila squeaked. Katrine caught her eye from behind the desk, evidently unseen to Lucian, and frantically motioned for Mila to keep talking. Shifting to her toes, she silently pressed one of the open drawers shut.

"I realized I forgot my book. I certainly didn't mean to disturb you. But forgive my asking, I don't believe we've met before?" His tone was pleasant, but there was a faint strain behind it. Katrine froze. Why did his voice sound so familiar?

"We— We're from Utopia," Mila said.

"I was not made aware of visitors," Lucian said. "'We?'"

"I dropped my rag, Father." Katrine closed the other drawer, analyzing the cadence of his voice. Yes, she'd heard it before, but where?

"This painting is beautiful!" Mila's voice was high and too cheerful. "What's it mean?"

He was silent for so long that Katrine felt her thighs burn. "The beginning, the natural order." His groaning footsteps grew closer. Her trembling fingers danced over the wood, making sure everything was in place. Once she could see his boots, she rose to her feet.

Lucian turned his gaze from the painting to her. A crash of thunder boomed in her ears, though the distant logical part of her mind knew it was barely raining, and the familiar mixture of blistering heat and stinging cold erupted down her arms. He was older and fatter but she knew that face, the high forehead and petulant turn of his mouth, and though then he'd been dressed in an expensive suit and his formerly addled expression was now lucid, she would never forget that face. Even if he went by another name and masqueraded as a holy man, he couldn't hide the black pits of his eyes and the blood that forever stained his hands.

"Lord Isaac." It was a wisp of air, her throat strangled by fear. But wait, no. She didn't have to use that anymore, not eight years later, and not with what he'd done. The grip of her fear fell away and her throat expanded, prepared to scream.

His eyes shifted, turning into deep black slashes. "You—"

"Isaac!" The name was poison in her mouth. She felt an icy shock of metal in her palm as she snatched up the candlestick on the desk, not by her own volition but controlled by the rage that spread to every inch of her body. How had she not immediately sensed a disturbance in the air, smelled the malevolent odor of sweat and blood, right when she'd stepped foot in the church?

Katrine lunged forward, dodging his outstretched hands and ignoring Mila's cry. A sickening vibration surged up her arm as she struck his temple. He crumpled to the floor, a deep gash splitting his forehead. The only pain she felt was the dull sting of the spray of his blood hitting her eyes.