Chapter V, Pt II

As they stepp'd through the doorway, there seem'd to be an immediate change in the setting. It was that sacred feeling, wrought all around and bound to every fibre of the floor, wood, and air. It was the feeling of that zeal when a devote follower stepp'd into the House, but this was a more amplified feeling. It seem'd that the amplitude and density of the sacredity had been exponentially increas'd. The surroundings overcame Riccardo like a great tidal surge, and the sweeping undertoe would soon pull him under.

There was a gaping hole in the ceiling, a hole in which was blown avast from the rotting wood, and now there was a golden river of sunlight passing forth and downward. The sunlight was a yellow road descending, its traffic a benevolent blow of low drifting petals of pure pink and prudence. Where the road took its travelers was a great bed of cherry blossoms, and the Sun shone forth brilliantly upon it with pride, that this... This was the centre of the church. This was the centrepiece, the centre of attention.

On that bed of petals and blossoms was the faintest imprint of a small thing, humanoid, and a child, but it was no longer laying there, though from anyone's view, it could easily be seen that they had taken to their feet and walk'd a bit, for look! There were footprints. Not far off, there was, lo' and behold, the Child, kneeling on the ground almost, bearing some pain. It was a small child, so innocent in youth, and so harmless, and yet it was this that they had come for, this to be destroy'd.

She saw them.

"It's her!" Captain Vaquero shout'd, pointing his drawn broadsword at her.

The sudden shout gave Riccardo such a start that he almost dropp'd the crossbow. He quickly recover'd only to find that THE BOLT HAD FALLEN OUT. Now his nervousness began to settle in worse than ever. This had been his first away mission, and he was under the scrutiny of the Captain. There was no time for slip-ups and he was already shaking like a leaf. He fumbl'd a bit more with another bolt, then load'd it as quick as he could.

When he look'd up, he saw that the Child had began to back away slowly, as if in fear. In fact, it look'd the perfect image of fear. It was as if she saw some great beasts after her, low and growling, and she could only move so much in a frozen state. All of a sudden she could back no further, for she had come against one of the pews. The last of her nerve was breaking, for gravity was taking its place as she began to sink down, her own strength offering little resistance.

Captain Vaquero began to advance on her, and Riccardo follow'd. Aiming the crossbow with a shaky hand, he stop'd once he was well within range to fire. The Captain kept advancing forward.

And then the oddest thing happened. A voice spoke to him in his head, in a yell almost; a plead. It was the young voice of a little girl, and it begg'd, "No! Stop! Don't!"

Then came a long string of serious doubts. Was this little child really a harm? Or was it just some normal child who would be kill'd? Riccardo couldn't bear to find out. What would happen if the child was just a normal child and they kill'd her? What then? He felt his body loosen.

"It's a trick, stay focused, damn you!" The Captain bark'd.

He suddenly snapp'd back into focus. No matter, he was a dog of the military now, and orders were orders.

"R-right! Yes-s sir!" Riccardo stammer'd.

Captain Vaquero was slowly advancing, his armour clanking on the ground. Was he doing that on purpose? Without any hesitance, the Captain rais'd his sword.

Just as the Captain was to deliver the blow, a sound of a low note was heard. It sound'd as if someone had struck a long pipe and it was reverberating with an ominous hum. It was felt tugging and resonating against their souls somehow, a sound that made people fall trance. This sound was almost hypnotizing. It struck again. And again. Even intervals and long, steady notes, as in a metronome.

And then...