***
Back at the cathedral, candles flickered around the barrier that surrounded Faust. This barrier was crafted by the lesser spirits possessing his body.
With the candles it was now barrier within a barrier.
Father Maximus sweated through trembling prayers, calming the lady who had slipped into madness.
Then,
A gasp.
Among the kneeling celebrants, a brown-skinned girl jolted. "Mea culpa," she whispered.
Attendants rushed to her, pulling off her headgear. She stared blankly upward and frozen. Listening to something the rest of them couldn't hear.
Claire sat by the barrier, hollow eyed, tearless. Dominic stood stiff beside her. His hope barely a dying flame.
Father Maximus stepped forward, turned to them and nodded.
What he was about to do would exorcise the spirits. But there would be no body left to bury.
He spread his arms. Then came a voice not his own. Ethereal, alien.
"Bite."
The word thundered in every mind present.
From the space between his arms, spectral jaws tore into existence. They unhinged wide enough to swallow the entire barrier.
This was Father Maximus' metaphor. This was what made him stand out from other priests in the whole of Alderia.
His metaphor was very unconventional for priests like himself.
A ripple then shot through the cathedral. The spirits possessing Faust scattered like smoke, banished back to the other side.
Claire jumped to her feet. Dominic blinked. The moment felt unreal.
The jaws hung in the air, frozen.
Faust's eyes flew open, like someone falling into wakefulness from a nightmare.
"Why..." he rasped. And collapsed.
His headgear had long been destroyed by the possession, so the attendants didn't approach.
Beside him, a boy knelt weeping. But not from grief. His body had no other way to process the pain of the whispers tearing through his soul.
He had failed. No metaphor.
Gasps spread. Murmurs.
"Another nelipot".
A failed Seventeen. A stain. A cursed mark in the eyes of society.
He would be cast out.
Asperbone Ridge already held the highest rate of failures in the empire. This was just one more.
Far in the back, a figure rose from a pew. Cloaked in brown. Barefoot. Baggy trousers brushing the floor, white hair spilling from her hood.
She turned, smiled toward the altar and walked out.
Father Maximus saw her from the corner of his eye. He said nothing.
Faust lay trembling. His reflection shimmered on the polished obsidian of the altar. He studied it. Searching for something.
Ink black hair. A white streak in the middle. Pale skin. Different colour eyes one grey, one black.
"Still the same".
He chuckled bitterly.
"Still got those dead eyes. I thought gaining a metaphor would at least improve my looks... Gelatea lied."
Claire reached him, pulled him into an embrace. She couldn't speak , she just held him tightly, sobbing.
Dominic stood frozen, watching them. And in his gut ,shame.
He'd never believed Faust would make it.
Casper had always seemed like the worthy one. Faust was just... stubborn. Lazy.
Faust froze in Claire's arms.
The whispers were back.
"Faust?" Claire pulled away, searching his eyes.
He backed away from her, crawling, clutching his ears.
Claire looked to Dominic, then to Father Maximus. Desperate for answers.
Dominic couldn't look up. The shame ran too deep.
He hadn't mourned Casper properly. Hadn't believed in Faust. And now, his soul was condemning him.
Claire's voice broke the silence.
"Father. What's happening?"
Father Maximus didn't answer. He turned toward the altar.
He rearranged the sacred tools, bowed to the strange, indescribable statue of the Whispering One.
Two attendants held Madame Irene, her mind now shattered. Another brought a bowl. Maximus washed his hands.
Behind him, Faust's screams began to fade.
Shame swept through him as the whispers went silent again.
Attendants lifted him, placing him beside the brown skinned girl. Kasera. The petrified one had been taken away earlier. Four participants remained.
The guardians for each celebrant stepped back. Their part was over.
Maximus cleared his throat.
"The rite of the Seventeen Ceremony has concluded."
He let the silence stretch.
"We have lost a soul today. His memento has been collected."
An attendant walked a small item to the guardian of the petrified man.
Maximus's hands trembled as he tried to lift them he quickly pressed them to the altar for support.
Even now, after so many years, the weight of a failed Seventeen cut deep.
The cathedral held its breath as the grieving guardian accepted the memento.
Maximus questioned himself. Again.
"Was it my fault?"
He knew it wasn't. They all knew.
The ceremony was a coin flip. It was either possession, madness ,Exile all on one face of the coin or a metaphor at the other face of the coin.
The risks were the price of clarity.
He exhaled. As he faced the Guardian of the petrified man.
"Resonating our souls with yours, we pray to the Whispering One that you feel your husband's presence more deeply... with this memento."
The congregation pressed their index fingers to their lips in affirmation.
Father Maximus continued.
"Insanity is a thin rope...Madame Irene though not truly one of us...was just as close to us as anyone of of you here..."
Allowing the silence to stretch he continued.
"With a will as strong as hers... a branded Listener could've rivaled a Greater Spirit."
He said as he chuckled, not because it was meant to be funny but just because of the fact that it was true.
"But after nineteen attempts... at the age of... "
An attendant,stepped towards his right side and whispered in his ear.
"At the age of 57, she has finally succumbed. She will be sent to Asperbone's Institute."
They was a cold silence.Then father Maximus continued turning to the other boy who was dazed in pain from the permanently intensified ravings.
"Remove your footwear!"
The failed boy looked up, wide-eyed. He hadn't even realized.
He was now a Nelipot.
Trembling, he bent down and pulled off his shoes.
"The whispers rejected you. Clarity eluded you. You failed to acquire a metaphor. From this moment, you are a Nelipot. You are forbidden from entering the cathedral unless reattempting the rite... at your own risk."
Attendants took him by the arms and led him out.
Parents shielded their children's eyes. Some spat. Others whispered prayers.
After he was gone, Maximus straightened and turned to Faust and Kasera.
"The Whispering One whispered. You listened. And found clarity."
"Bittersweet, as it is you are now Listeners. Please welcome Listener Faust and Listener Kasera."
The cathedral broke into claps and cheers.
It was always a joy when someone finally gained a metaphor.
The ceremony concluded. People filtered out, whispering, gossiping.
What metaphor did they get?
Dominic, Claire, and Faust stepped into the night. Outside of the cathedral.
A voice called out ,Claire's old friend. A reminder of Casper. She embraced them, offered kind words.
As the adults talked, Faust stared at the towering cathedral. The Whispering Cathedral. Its gothic spires reaching skyward.
He chuckled to himself.
"It's not in the sky. It's right here. I hear it always."
Later, in the carriage home, Faust leaned his head against the window. Watching the city blur past.
A madman stood at the roadside, chest heaving. Then shouted:
"You'll wish you'd died at seventeen!"
Faust watched him as they passed.
"He never says anything else... What does that even mean?"
He glanced at his parents. Thought of asking. Then closed his eyes.
"They'll just give me the same answer. What's the point?"
The carriage turned toward a tall building, its rooftop shaped like an open book, flapping in the wind.
Home.