Canta pays no mind to the embarrassed looks of the priests that he walks past as the two of them leave the house. He supposes that they might have been a little loud. But that’s not his problem, as far as he sees it.

“Look!” says Alleluia excitedly, pointing up to the sky as they leave out of the door. Canta follows her finger, staring up at the birds flying through the air, silhouetted by the bright, late-morning sun which hangs high up above them. Its warm rays drying out the soaked world below, removing the stains and the puddles from the road as if none of them ever were.

“Mm,” nods Canta. “That’s the sun, all right."

“I was pointing at the birds,” she says.

“Mm,” nods Canta. “Those are birds, all right.”

Alleluia sighs. “Jerk,” she mutters in a low utterance, but she doesn’t let go of his hand. After their time alone, she had apologized for kicking him, saying that she never thinks right when she gets angry.

“Please,” says Canta dryly, stepping out into the world with her behind him. “That’s why you can’t resist me.”

She lets out a huff. “I can resist you like rust,” she says, emphasizing the arc of her leg as she steps over a puddle with a wide berth. There is a smell in the air. It isn’t the smell of a world washed clean with rain. Rather, it is the bitter smell of acrid smoke. He turns his head, looking towards the other side of the town, towards beyond the plaza, where a large plume of smoke is rising into the air.

“More fire?” asks Alleluia.

A gruff voice comes from next to them. “They’re burning the dead.”

Canta looks at the man, leaning against the wall as if having been waiting for them to come out. “Good morning, uh… Paul.”

“Palatinos Salvador,” he says, not pushing himself off of the wall.

“Sure, whatever,” says Canta, rolling his eyes. “So you guys aren’t going to try to kidnap us if we just leave, right?” he asks, getting to the point.

Salvador stares at him for a second. “You saved the town, why would we kidnap you?”

“Because…” Canta narrows his eyes, pointing his finger at the man. “- I don’t know!”

The old man’s world-weary eyes stare down at him, but he just shakes his head. “You’re free to do whatever it is that you want to do, sin-eater.” The man standing behind him, who Canta missed at first glance, the priest Valenti, clears his throat loudly once. Salvador sighs. Canta’s hand jerks out, pointing again.

“There it is! I knew it!”

Salvador lifts a hand, stopping him. “The church would, of course, greatly appreciate it, if you would accompany us back.”

“Back where? To some hellhole?” asks Canta.

“To the city, sin-eater,” says Valenti, clasping his hands together and walking around Salvador. “If I may be so brash, I feel like you don’t understand the value of your class.”

“You sure got some balls overnight,” says Canta, raising an eyebrow as he notices that the man didn’t stutter once this time while speaking to him.

“As head-priest, I was informed of the merciful services that you rendered last night to the sick,” explains Valenti, gesturing to the plume of smoke. “I see that there is no reason to be afraid of your newest incarnation.”

“Huh…” says Canta, not sure if this is an insult or a compliment or simply a statement. “Wait, my wh -”

“Merciful services?” asks Alleluia, her voice overtaking his.

Valenti nods. “Your husband spent all night tending to the dying, cleaning them of their sins before they had to leave the world.” He gestures with his arms open wide, his eyes practically sparkling in the light of the morning sun. “He is a very kind man.”

“Uh… Yeah!” says Canta, pointing a finger up at the two of them. “And don’t you forget it!” Of course, the truth is that he had simply done that to get out of the house for a while, rather than out of any inherent mercy, at least at first. But they didn’t need to know that, since it’s making him look great.

“There is so much more holy work to do,” says Valenti, clearly pleased. Almost a little too much for Canta’s liking. “Your kindness could reach from shore to shore,” explains the priest with an oddly giddy smile on his face, as he lifts his head towards the sky. “As a representative of the church, I would like to offer you an invitation-”

Salvador sighs, pressing his hand against the man’s chest and pushing him back a step, seeing that he was about to go on some poetic tangent. The old man looks at the two of them. “Want a ride to the city?” He nods his head to the priest. “The catch is that the church wants to talk to you.”

“Oh,” says Canta, appreciating the honesty and that the man simply got to the point without any further pageantry. “Uh…” He looks back up at Alleluia as he thinks about their options. One option was to wander the freshly rained on country-side and… look for things to do and to survive off of. The other option was to get a free ride to the city, which is something Alleluia had wanted to see anyway, and they would likely be pampered and cared for on the way. Plus there was potentially a lot more food there… Apparently his class means a lot to these people? Canta figures that he might as well leverage that for every single bite that it’s worth.

It does make him uncomfortable that they’re letting this be a choice to begin with though. But perhaps, that is that old anxiety present in him from that last life of his. Maybe the world just isn’t as bad as he remembers it being? Or maybe it’s changed? Or maybe he has and now he sees it with fresh eyes.

Either way, he has made his choice. But despite that, he looks up at Alleluia and asks. “What do you wanna do?”

She squeezes his hand. “Let’s go with them, spider-goo,” she says. “I really want to see the city!”

Canta shrugs, looking back at Salvador. “Well, there you have it.” He lifts a finger, pointing at the two of them. “Don’t try any skullduggery bullshit though. I’ll eat both of you alive,” he threatens.

“Do you have trust issues, sin-eater?” asks Salvador, not impressed as always.

Alleluia nods. “He does, but he’s really very nice.”

“Hey!” barks Canta up at her. “Don’t undermine my authority!”

“And he’s a real romantic,” she adds on, holding her free hand against her cheek, as if she were blushing.

Canta flinches. His old bashfulness returns to the surface for a moment, now that they’re in public. “Don’t say that to the holy-men, you sticky scrap-heap!”

She looks down at him with an ireful glare. “Whose fault is that, huh? I sure didn’t make myself sticky!” she says in a huff. Canta tries to let go of her hand so he can run off and die in a corner, but she squeezes tighter, trapping him like a cornered animal. For a brief second, he considers gnawing at his wrist, but he realizes that she would just grab him somewhere else instead. A group of priests walk by in that second, sparing them a glance, having overheard this conversation, but then they quickly look away as they hurriedly shuffle past towards the gate.

Valenti clears his throat. “We’ll be leaving in an hour. You can ride with myself and Salvador if you’d like,” he says, patting the man on his metal spaulder. He turns and gives Valenti a grim look and the priest quickly lets go, taking a nervous step back.

“Pass,” says Canta.

“We’d love to,” says Alleluia, overriding his opinion. “Is there anything we can do to help, until then?”

“That’s very kind,” says Valenti, lowering himself in a half-bow to her. “But we wouldn’t ask a lady of your stature to work in these conditions.” Alleluia beams with delight at this affirming statement.

Canta however, can’t help but roll his eyes at this latest deviousness. In his eyes, the priest is just trying to win her over to get to him. Though he doesn’t know why he thinks that. “Don’t encourage her, she might actually start believing it one daa-AIAAH!” She swings him around, launching him through the air a second later with enough force that he ends up flying past the group of priests who had passed them a moment before. He tumbles and skids across the muddy road, as he ends up being the first one to the gate.

“Are you alright, sin-eater?!” asks a worried voice. Canta shakily pushes himself out of the mud, his whole front covered in it, as he looks at the familiar face of the priestess from last night, sticking out of the group of faces filled with a varying amount of nervousness.

Canta wipes his face clean, sighing. “Hey, are priests still chaste these days?” he asks, cutting straight to the chase, as he gets up back onto his feet. Apparently nothing broke from the fall, except for the first half of his pride.

“Y-yes,” answers the priestess, all of them exchanging awkward looks with each other.

“Good,” says Canta, wiping himself and looking at all of them. “You listen to me,” he says, pointing at each and every person there. “You made the right choice, don’t ever forget that.” He looks down at himself, shaking his grime covered arms. “Fuck’s sake.”

The second half of his pride, however, is broken an hour later. Apparently, while most of them had to walk. The higher ranked members of the contingent were allowed to ride on large bipedal birds called Anqas. Salvador and Valenti had a carriage. Which is perfectly fine for Canta, but there ends up being one problem.

“No,” says Salvador, looking down at him.

“What?” asks Canta, Alleluia standing next to him.

The man points down at his body, covered in dry mud. “No,” is all that he says, repeating himself.

“What?!” asks Canta angrily. “As if you’re some delicate man of luxury!” he barks, pointing at the gruff, bearded old veteran. “You can handle some mud.”

“I can,” says Salvador, stepping inside of the cloth lined carriage. “No.”

“Thanks a lot,” grumbles Canta, looking up at Alleluia.

“I’m sorry, spider-cakes. I didn’t think again,” she apologizes. “You shouldn’t have been rude though,” she says, crossing her arms.

“That doesn’t justify it,” sighs Canta, shaking his head. He feels like he’s pretty resilient and she’s clearly new to interacting with people. But this whole ‘short fuse’ thing is going to be a problem sooner rather than later if they don’t have a real talk.

“But don’t worry, we’ll get you cleaned right up. Though you really could have done that yourself,” she says. “Did you really sit here covered in mud for an hour?”

“I was making a point out of it!” snaps Canta at her. She sighs, but then tilts her head, doing something that he doesn’t like at all. She smiles. Canta narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Don’t you worry, my little mud-worm -”

“Don’t call me that!” he interrupts.

“- We’ll get you cleaned right up!”

“These were the only clothes that fit me,” complains Canta, gesturing down at himself. By the time he lifts his gaze again, he sees the shadow hovering over him, the two, cold metal hands reaching for his body, as if to steal the last light from his eyes and soul. Canta feels a fear in his legs that he can’t really explain, a fear that stops him from running, as he looks at the familiar smile that he had seen during that first encounter of theirs, down in the dark, lonely dungeon.

Canta realizes the truth. She is evil. Truly. Deeply in her heart of hearts, she is monstrous.

This was her plan all along. He hadn’t been led into a trap by Valenti or Salvador.

He had been led into the trap by Alleluia and like an idiot, he walked right into it. He had been lulled by this facade of naivety and gentle softness that she had been exuding and now, she had him right where she wanted him.

The carriage rocks around as the large birds, tethered to the front of it, start their march. The priests and soldiers all back in rank and file as they all leave the town behind. There are happy and thankful cries coming from the windows and from the gate of the town, as the survivors and the few recovered wish them all a safe journey and thank them with loud cheers and shouts. He even hears his own title mentioned a few times as people shout for the sin-eater.

But Canta doesn’t budge, his arms crossed, his eyes staring a deathly glare across the carriage, towards the two men sitting on the other side. Valenti and Salvador. Not that he could, even if he wanted to, with Alleluia holding him and restraining him firmly in place.

He sees the corner of Salvador’s lip twitch, as the man has been doing his best to keep his composure.

“DON’T YOU SAY IT!” he barks, pointing at him. Alleluia holds onto him, pulling him back so that he can’t leave her side. “One word! I’ll send you straight to hell!” He turns his finger, pointing at Valenti. “That goes for you too!”

Head-priest Valenti stiffens up like a rod. Palentinos Salvador however, is entirely unfazed by this threat.

“I think the creativity of your outfit suits you well, sin-eater,” says Salvador, as he looks down at the mismatching mishmash of old rags that he is wearing, which Alleluia had taken with herself out of the dungeon.

Canta fidgets, pulling the baggy, grumpy fabric down further past his knees, wishing that he could die his final death already. Alleluia however, sitting at an angle because of her crank, simply hums as she looks out of the window, holding him with one hand.

A demon.

She’s a demon.

He knew it. He should have listened to his instincts and now, it’s too late for him to be saved.