It had been a few hours since Cassian joined the confession line. Each confession took only a few minutes—ten at most—but with so many people waiting, progress was slow. Even so, no one complained. The Astraval guard stood watch to keep order, and not a single cultist dared make a fuss.
Cassian didn't either. He simply waited, arms crossed, until at last his turn came. As he stepped forward, he caught sight of Kirja leaving—her face bright and oddly peaceful.
Inside, the once-empty hall had been transformed. A large wooden chamber stood in the center now, carved with intricate symbols and sacred patterns. The air around it shimmered faintly with holy mana, so pure that even Cassian felt it sting against his skin—like it could burn away any trace of darkness or sin within him.
