October of the Sainted Year (Third Civil Month)

Kensington and his companions followed Xinion, the Gnome Minor God of the Nights Church, through a long and dimly lit corridor, whose walls seemed to absorb rather than reflect the faint ambient light. The stone underfoot was veined with strands of dark sapphire, the subtle shimmer beneath their boots casting quiet reflections upward. The corridor exuded an aura both sacred and ancient—its high, arched ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting celestial events and forgotten myths. Each carving on the wall seemed to pulse faintly with dormant Mana, and the density of that Mana was so profound that Kensington could feel it stirring his blood, thrumming through his veins like a silent invocation.

Though the group advanced in silence, Kensington's attention was drawn to a hushed exchange between the Divine Guardian Bird, Xinion, and Nyom. Their voices were inaudible, their language indistinct, as though veiled by an unseen force. When they noticed his gaze lingering, they offered him a knowing smile, one filled with the serene indifference of the Divine, then returned to their conversation, leaving him none the wiser.

There was something ineffably Divine and Mystic about the Nights Temple they had just entered. No other word sufficed. It was not simply sacred ground; it was consecrated in layers beyond mortal comprehension. Even his daughters, who had hitherto carried themselves with brave faces, clung to each other with nervous apprehension. Kensington noted the way their eyes darted about, uncertain, as the atmosphere weighed heavily upon their youthful minds. His sons attempted to maintain composure, their lips curled into polite smiles, but those expressions wavered the instant they saw towering High Celestial beings approach Xinion then bow and address him with reverence as "Master."

It was in that moment that the illusion broke. The Gnome's small stature and boyish countenance could no longer disguise the truth. He was truly a God. And though he had called himself Minor, some within the party began to wonder if the title had not been misleading, perhaps even purposefully modest.

They emerged at last from the corridor into a grand ceremonial hall with walls constructed of smooth dark gray stone softened with blue hues, the marble floor polished to such clarity that it mirrored the occupants like water. High magical chandeliers hung from above, shaped like constellations, forged in iron and crystal and casting refracted starlight upon the gathering. Murals of dreamlike scenes, where Moonlight pierced through veils of cloud to touch lonely spires, adorned the ceiling overhead. The architecture of the Nights Temple was nothing short of extravagant, as though it were built to exalt every aspect of night itself. Its serenity, its secrecy and its power were mesmerizing.

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Within the hall, silent-footed Celestial servants moved with uncanny grace, their luxurious robes flowing like shadows made silk. They bore trays laden with appetizers and shimmering decanters of drink, all offered without word or ceremony, as though the guests were expected and their preferences already known.

Kensington accepted his offering with gratitude, inclining his head slightly in polite thanks. The drink, lightly spiced and honey-sweet, warmed his body immediately, and the food restored his strength more efficiently than any mundane and Mana-rich meal he ever had before. He glanced at the Guardian Birds, noting the joy on their features as they too indulged. Clearly, they had not tasted such Divine fare for some time. Kensington could imagine the hardship of their life among Mortals, constrained by decorum and forced to subsist on "passable" nourishment at best. Their delight here seemed to reaffirm that this place was indeed similar to their true domain.

The group remained standing, taking their collation in quiet reverence. Kensington took particular pleasure in his food, though more than the flavors, it was the feeling of fullness that delighted him. The 'light' meal offered by the Demonic Bunny, though sumptuous, had been infused with Magic Digestives, which had replenished his Magic but left him both physically unsatisfied and insatiable. Now, at last, he felt nourished in both body and Magic.

He smiled gently as he watched his children, especially his sons, embrace the feast. The girls remained somewhat shy, lingering near one another and sampling the fare with delicate hesitation, yet even they were clearly beginning to relax. The Divine hospitality extended to them was unmistakably generous.

After a short while, Xinion turned to address them. His voice, though soft, carried with a resonance that filled the chamber without effort.

"Before we proceed to our final destination," he announced, "I must take you all to the Anti-Corruption Hall, where you shall be tested for corruption and decontaminated. We shall be traveling through a Dark Portal Pentagram."

The air fell still.

All movement ceased. Even the sounds of the distant servants seemed to fade. An invisible weight descended upon the group as though the very name of the place, Anti-Corruption Hall, had summoned with it a judgment long deferred.

Diams stiffened. Panic flickered behind his eyes.

He recalled with sudden clarity the remarks made earlier regarding the corruption of his home. He had dismissed them at the time as barbed euphemisms, the sort of veiled criticisms one might expect in Noble circles. Kensington, too, had assumed that the words were a polite accusation meant only for Diams personally, since he had failed to stop his wife, not for his family and his house.

But now, faced with the prospect of Divine scrutiny, that comfortable illusion began to crumble.

Everyone was silent, uncertain whether to speak, to object or simply to pray that they were clean enough to pass.

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