Meeting

As we entered the room, they turned their heads toward us, pacifying smiles plastered on their faces. Considering my adult mental age, I saw past their charade of good and kind men. To them, I was a walking money bag waiting to be collected.

"We greet the High Priest and Master André; may His Blessing continue to illuminate your path. This lowly servant has brought Apprentice Lyrellia as requested." Father Norr released my hand from his claw-like grip only to move it to the back of my neck. Clammy fingers found the bare skin beneath the thick shoulder-length hair, and I felt myself shudder as the fingers applied pressure, forcing me to bow my head toward the two men.

"May Hith Blething iwuminate your path" (May His Blessing illuminate your path). The words spewed out of my mouth before I could stop them. The greeting of people belonging to The Temple of the Heavenly Father slipped out per reflex, and in an instant, I went back as a mindless robot, doing their bidding.

Both men laughed heartily at my messed-up greeting. My pronunciation could still be considered lacking, especially as I did my best not to speak too much; I tried to create an image of a quiet child – to the point of being mute, that would allow me to slip between the gaps unseen. However, the lack of proper practice also meant I didn't develop as quickly as I could, considering my mental age.

I clenched my fists at the sound of their laughter. I felt a dull pain in the hand Father Norr had held. The calloused ends of my fingers touched the indents his nails had made in my palm. My nails had been cut short during my bath, so I didn't hurt myself to the point of piercing skin, even if I clenched tightly.

"Yes. Yes! Come in and sit. Sit!" The High Priest gestured toward the empty spots on the couch opposite him. His gentle and warm smile was directed at me as his grey eyes twinkled with interest behind the curtain of wrinkled and loose skin.

My eyes darted from the gentle-looking old man to the empty seats. I recognised him from my memories. The same pure white hair gathered at the back, the same receding hairline and wrinkled old face. A tall and thin old man with a pair of grey eyes that seemed to read your mind. His age must've been around 70 or 80, but I wouldn't be surprised if he were older than that, surviving on Divine Power provided by Hands at Master André's disposition.

He was a genuinely frightening figure as he looked revered and benevolent on the outside, yet his eyes seemed to see everything, always a cunning glint like an old fox.

Father Norr directed me forward, his hand still firm at the back of my neck. My legs shook as I was forced forward. "We thank you for your generosity, High Priest." Father Norr thanked and bowed in the direction of the High Priest.

I felt their eyes on me as I followed suit and bowed as well, my head close to hitting the black oak coffee table.

Another burst of hearty laughter ensued. "There's no need to be so nervous, child. Come, let me help you up." The High Priest rose from his seat and reached his hands out to me. The warmth in his face and voice sounded like he was talking to his grandchild.

The grip on the back of my neck loosened as arms covered by heavy white cloth picked me up. Old and slim as the High Priest looked, I could still feel a surprising amount of strength hidden in those arms. My hands gripped his arms as I stared at the High Priest with large eyes. My body froze like a doll as he lifted me.

The wrinkled hands holding onto my skinny upper arms released their grip as the High Priest sat me down on the couch. The soft cushion beneath me felt unfamiliar as I was used to hard wooden chairs with no cushioning or thin straw mattresses. My hands moved from his arms to the cream-coloured couch I was placed on. Soft and silky, I could feel the raised gold embroidery under my fingertips. Had I ever felt fabric this soft and smooth before? Even in my past life?

Still entranced by the softness beneath my fingertips, I noticed the High priest return to his seat and not long after, Father Norr sat beside me. "You should thank the High Priest." Father Norr lectured quietly at my side. I felt his eyes as I lifted my head and stopped caressing the couch.

"Th-thank you." I managed to stammer. The High Priest smiled back.

"Would you like a cookie?" He asked back, pushing a gold-painted porcelain bowl toward me: light brown cookies, some with jam-filled centres, some plain and some with bits of dried fruit. My mouth watered. Had I ever tasted a cookie in this life? I couldn't recall a time before the temple, and I certainly didn't receive cookies here. I suppose if I accepted, it would be my first.

Averting my gaze, I reminded myself of their tricks. They will pretend to be kind, but then throw you to the wolves. Don't be tempted.

At moments like these, I could feel my physical age. My will, which would have been iron-strong in my previous life, would crumble little by little.

I shook my head. "No, twanks." (No, thanks.)

"Are you sure? They're quite delicious; I ensured that children would enjoy them." The High Priest asked, his hand still on the bowl pushed in my direction.

I nodded with my eyes fixed on my hands. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

"I'm curious, child," Master André asked. I felt his beady eyes on me. The curious stare drilled holes at the side of my face. "Why did you heal the Grand Duke?" His voice was light for a man. His face was smooth with a childlike roundness to it. With an elegant hand movement, to the point of almost being feminine, he picked up his crystal wine glass and placed it against his thin lips. His small grey eyes still focused on me as the ruby liquid gradually disappeared.

My eyes flickered to the High Priest. I felt my heart speed up at the unexpected question. Leaning into the soft pillows of his couch, the High Priest watched me with the same curiosity as Master André. He awaited my answer, as did everyone else in the room.