As the second lesson ended with Father Nico’s holy words, I let my mind go to Anastasia’s plight. She was just entering her teens, and I knew well how frustrated she felt, but she always went about these things in the least effective manner. Adoption upon the cusp of winter is a rare event, even in warm Roma, and she should have instead prepared herself more properly for the coming spring.

She was talented enough, but her scheming and acting out drove those who would want a proper daughter away from inviting her into their families. It was unfortunate that she should be of apprenticing age and still not acknowledged as anyone’s daughter, but that was all the more reason that she should continue to fight on for her own self-betterment: so that she could live a good life even if it should never happen that she should call anyone besides Olga and Father Nico as her own mother and father.

It may not have been what she dreamed of, or ever wanted, but she had people who genuinely cared for her even when they could not afford the time or expense to look after her directly. She had brothers she could rely on, and sisters she could be supported by, and such relationships as these were far more than I had been granted in Roma. She was offered innumerable possibilities for learning from myself and Arianna, Amadeus and Gerald, Olga and Father Nico, and still other learned adults like Bart Fredrickson who less commonly stopped by to help out and stand as the pillar the children needed for success in life.

Anastasia could have had a future in doctoring or alchemy, but she had only listened to me up to basic aid and general herbology; she could have followed any number of aetherial pursuits, from sorcery, to wizardry, or even illusory enchantments — Arianna was capable enough in each of these fields, and certainly others besides — but she had only achieved the ‘everyday’ magics that most anyone could know within a few weeks of effort!

Amadeus could have trained her in the ways of sword, spear, shield, and survival, but she had frittered away such venturing potential to become only competent in avoiding training days and exercise. Gerald might have shown her how to better manage finances and to perform pioneering work, but she had ignored these opportunities in favor of learning the best ways to heckle the elderly.

It went much the same with Olga’s householdery, and the Father’s theology, and what could be done for her always eluded me in this way. She absolutely should not have tried to be adopted in this instance where she was standing beside the illusion of Foul beings that might bring revulsion out in anyone!

Just why did Arianna feel that she had to capture their abominable imagery that closely? I could not imagine that Olga had requested it of her, but I was simply unable to fathom why else she might have done it! She had commanded forth an astoundingly intricate visual performance, at least from my eyes’ perspective, but other than impressing me — which she could do at any time, and often did in the privacy of our home — I could not understand, and I knew that my curiosity would necessitate my knowing.

I nodded to myself as I thought to ask her reasons later, as whether it had been the revolting appearance of those undead or that fleshrot victim being put into the same room as the other patients: I would surely have my answers. Arianna was likely enough to excitedly tell me some of them herself, but there had been so many surprises in this year’s mass, and I knew that she would enjoy telling me everything and more upon my expression of interest.

A voice came out to distract me from my considerations, and a young woman spoke firmly from within the darkness, “I will remake this world into a nation.”

Light shone down to the stage once again, this time upon four young girls, each one wrapped in the exotic and strange costumes of countries that lay beyond the border in every direction of the wind, and every one of them was either recently or actively in conflict with Roman rule. The woman who had spoken was nowhere to be seen, but the only unaccounted for planned participants to my knowledge were Natalie Orlov and Luca, so my natural suspicion was that it was Natalie who had spoken.

The youngest and tallest of the assembled girls was Talia Frederickson, who represented one of the nations that lay nearest to us. She was wrapped in the white and brown furs of her mother’s homeland, and her pallid face was painted as if with blood in the animalistic manner of the pagan tribes that wandered the glacial lands and sea ice to the north. 

She held in her hand a hatchet, and her bright blond hair ran naturally straight and long down her back. Although it had been a long while since the barbarian hordes last marched upon Roman soil: their frozen territory had remained an unconquerable bulwark, and was an ever present threat to all good Christendom!

Sasha, who was seven and the shortest, stood next to Talia, and she was dressed in the light silks and bright airy satins of those who followed the heathen Zoroastrians in the south, replete with the resplendent golden ‘jewelry’ that befitted one of their priests. She had been the daughter of a legionnaire from the southern border before she had come to be orphaned, so the role she had been given rather suited the darkened features of her appearance, and she had probably even asked for the role herself in respect to her father’s memory.

Her hands were empty despite the endless capacity for violence they represented, as such unguarded hands had shattered to pieces the once mighty Sword of Islam, and even now brought the threat of war upon Roman shores! Her palms were faced upwards as if she were ready at any moment to conjure forth a fiendish djinn from her own flesh, or a shield of faith from her own soul.

The Rodderick twins stood together, and they represented the west and east in order as they each wore only the best quality costume — as must have been their mother’s insistence. Pamela’s face was hooded beneath the immaculate red and yellow robes of the Ispanian magister, and she held in her hands a replica chain and shackles that surely signified the bloody sacrifice of their slaves through forbidden rituals.

Rosalyn giggled to herself as she wore a deeply red cape mantled over a well-tailored black suit, and she held a goblet from which she freely drank. She surely represented the lords of the Deadlands that were said to span on forever into the east, and which represented the nearest threat to our frontier township.

Natalie Orlov’s voice came forth again, now awash with was most probably the ebb and flow of aetherial echoes, and she declared, “A country built upon Wickedness and Power, and I shall rule over my people as their one and only God and Master!”

Various elements seemed to erupt to life around each of the young girls as she decreed this: snow fell down above Talia’s shoulders, and sand danced all around Sasha’s costumed outerwear. Blood seemed to bubble up from the ground, and it pooled between the Rodderick twins as they each turned it to their own ends: Pamela’s half fed into a ball of fire in her hands, and Rosalyn’s seemed to disappear into her shadow, which grew unnaturally long and fiendish behind her.

I next heard Luca’s voice, which I would recognise anywhere no matter how it might have changed over the years, as he spoke with bold seriousness, “But a nation born in and of sin can bring only suffering to its people, and the tyrant who builds their power without love for their people must surely be toppled! No matter how deep the depths of the darkness: it may never stand for long in the light, and no hatred born of sin shall ever shake the love borne by our Lamb!”

The snow which had gently fallen over Talia now came down in a flurry, and the illusion of an arctic wind was so close to reality that it brought me to shiver, even without the slightest wind pressing upon my person! That terrible blizzard lifted the snow up until it seemed to bury Talia, then all at once the vision of that snowstorm disappeared, and the young Frederickson girl was gone with it.

A silence pervaded in the rows behind me as my breath caught in my throat, and this shared quiet only seemed to deepen the mystery behind her vanishment. I could just imagine Arianna’s mirth at having caused such a stir in her audience and myself, but she did not give me very long to consider anything as the sand that had previously blown around Sasha’s costume had come alive with uncanny motion.

It lifted itself up in great sweeping gusts, and the sand layered itself toward the nave until it had entirely obscured Sasha’s form from me. As had the snow before it, the sand shortly blinked out as if it were a mirage that had never been, and Sasha was gone with it as well. The rest of the congregation surely knew that this too was an illusion, but my heart grew heavy with worry when Pamela’s swirling orb of flame suddenly beamed out and drew a line of searing fire between the stage and myself!

A very real heat pressed against my brow, and the fire seemed to burst out toward us in a fan before it climbed up toward the ceiling in a great curtain of vividly red flame! This was no magic trick wrought by constructed light, but a very real conflagration conjured up by a preeminent sorcerer fully confident in her own domain!

I shivered despite the heat which beat down onto my forehead, and I wondered how Arianna could so easily control such a raging force as this, but in another instant it was over. The smokeless flame had disappeared into nothingness, with only my sweating and overwarmth to mark its passing, as if it had only been a moment’s frightful hallucination, and Pamela must surely have departed the stage while the fire raged.

This left only Rosalyn and her endlessly lengthening and widening shadow on the stage, so given the theme of the last three: it should be no surprise if she should soon be granted obscurity by a vast rising darkness, or be otherwise suddenly shrouded by her shadow. Rosalyn was still looking up at the ceiling with awe upon her childish face, as if she were utterly caught up in amazement at the fiery curtain that had recently been before her, and it was not until a throat was loudly cleared from somewhere behind her that she seemed to realise it was her turn to disappear!

She jumped as though badly startled, and as she moved her body immediately began to visibly distort in a strange manner. Her face stretched out lengthwise and widthwise, and in every other which way besides, and her whole form had soon curved to an inhuman degree of thinness! Rosalyn’s shadow spread out in every direction and seemed to dance around her, until all at once she vanished, as if she had finally been sucked into her very own shadow!

My breath caught at this impossible disappearance, but I soon heard her footsteps again as she padded across the ground, and I let go of my held air at last, as it seemed that Arianna had — through some arcane method utterly unknown to me — made Rosalyn entirely invisible! But this incredible feat was proven undone as Rosalyn appeared totally within vision again for a moment as she ran toward the dormitory.

Giggles and chuckles spread throughout the congregation as she disappeared again, so it seemed that I was not the only person whose vision had been deceived, and I shared in the applause which resounded throughout the assembly of the Lord. Father Nico’s voice returned with the aetherlights in the nave to end the performance with the third and final lesson,

“In this manner, His love extends to those in every nation, as all men under Heaven are His, and those held captive by their wickedness may through Him be forgiven. We must forever remember His mercy, and failing that: His might. Let us reflect on his teachings, and pray.”

This was the end, and Father Nico’s eyes closed as he bowed his head in invitation to join him in prayer. I followed in his example, and I petitioned to the Lord,

‘Lord, forgive me for I have sinned, and I will sin again, and I shall not stop my part in this sin until death parts me from her. It is unjust for someone so unrepentant as myself to beg your forgiveness, but although it is wrong of me: I pray that you can forgive my loving her.’

My prayer finished as the clamour again began in earnest, and I opened my eyes to find the woman I had strayed away from the righteous path for. She came into my seeking vision almost immediately, with beads of sweat pouring down from her flushed face in streaks that stuck her shining hair to her cheeks.

She had herself already been staring in my direction, awaiting my gaze with a hopeful and somewhat uncertain smile upon her face, as if my approval was the only opinion that mattered in all the world to her. The warmth of true and unreserved congratulations swelled within me, and I nodded to her as my face loosened into a helplessly wide smile, and my pride for her seemed likely to eclipse my own in total!

Perhaps I had recognised it belatedly, but this really was her moment; the culmination of all of her efforts, and she well deserved to know of my esteem for her! So I swallowed back the last vestiges of my selfish dignity, and with all my energy and more I let show my appreciation for her, and everything she meant to me.

‘Rianna, you really are my one, only, and most beloved woman in all the world.’ This I sought to let her know, and with happy tears pouring down: I applauded, and celebrated her success. I cheered without a modicum of restraint left to me; I grinned, and stood up laughing with total abandon for Arianna’s spectacular performance, and my eyes were blind to all other things as they received her blushing reception.