For the Prisoner

31. Rose Quartz Gargoyles

Briar Glen's church was the largest of all of Alverton, and the oldest building still intact from a time before the Red Raids. The smooth marble climbing into the skies in a shape that reminded more of a castle than of a church originated beyond the Morden Mountains, far into wild territory. The church had once been the seat of their ruler to dwell in during reigning these lands; before Alverton had received its name and independence.

Wide open and welcoming to any visitor, the gates offered a peek inside the palatial nave. Seonghwa's eyes remained stuck on the towers, though, the golden ornaments lining the windows and doors. The light reflected off the shimmering spires and danced over the hunched bodies of the pink gargoyles. Over two dozen of them populated the ledge in various poses of silent hovering, waiting until their services would be demanded. With them perched white doves and curious sparrows that bathed in the superiority to look out over the city from above.

Jongho stepped into the church ahead of Seonghwa, used to the sights. The priest trailed behind him, marvelling at the tall, arched ceiling that let the natural light cascade into the hall. It brushed over national treasures, caressed the serene expressions of the marble statues, and danced over the tiled floor to bring warmth to those kneeling at the benches.

Despite the constant light, the nave was submerged in a blissful chill that offered a glance up without being blinded to marvel at the artwork spread across the ceiling. Mary, Mother of Grace, cradled her son's sunken body with a wistful smile on her lips. Angels cast the halo around her head under decorated blue and green backgrounds that matched the gold of the white nave.

The massive pillars surged caryatids of saints to the skies that cradled the roof on their heads while overlooking the hall with fond eyes.

Compared to the other churches Seonghwa had visited, this one bustled with constant life at any time of the day. He counted over six chantry members at a swift glance through the room. Choir boys ran around in their polished uniforms, glowing under the colourful light from the stained windows that threw patterns across the floor. Numerous believers sat sunken in prayer, attended the teachings of the Lord at the centre of the hall near the altar, or basked in the sanctuary of this place.

Since Seonghwa grew up in it, he was usually numb to the healing properties of spiritual magic, but he felt it on his skin like a brush of wind here. Undoubtedly, any evil creature that set foot in here would fall to dust upon crossing the threshold. Seonghwa's mind was cleansed by the blissful touch.

Jongho and he dedicated themselves to their usual business, but Seonghwa kept stopping in awe when the church took his breath away yet again. By the time he went to consult the highest priest, he felt sated by the sights alone.

As the two men wandered the nave with their hands crossed behind their backs and their eyes cast low in the comfort of the Lord's gentle cradle, Seonghwa explained what had led him here. He left out the part about striking a deal with a witch, simply mentioning the White Lady and how her death reaped him of the ability to be healed.

The elder priest considered him for a while, concern for his brother shadowing his brow.

"I have heard of such curses before. Many sought us, seeking salvation from the noxious tricks of fae folk. Unfortunately, no matter how simple the jinx or how mighty the blessing hand of the Bishop is, we have yet to heal a deadly curse. We offer solace and guidance through those lonely hours of fear, but we can't meddle with the forces of those unbound by our spiritualism."

Seonghwa nodded with a gulp. He had expected as much, or else the solution would have been right at his hands the entire time.

Once more, the weight of his draining life bore heavily on him.