Mary jumped almost two feet up, which was quite an achievement as she was initially sitting. Behind her, leaning on a ten-foot pole, stood a really, really old man. He wore grey-ish brown robes, which looked nearly as old as the cathedral itself and were nearly as wrinkled as his face. His hands were so thin that Mary worried that if he held to the glorified symbol of his priesthood the tiniest bit stronger, his fingers would break under pressure.

“Your excellency,” Mary bowed her head respectfully before going all the way down to pick up the book her little acrobatic feat sent flying to the floor. “I'm sorry, I hadn't heard you coming.”

“Ah, worry not, dear child.” A warm smile restructured the wrinkles cutting his face like chasms hollowed in the rock by the tears of sadness and joy flowing for far too many years. “People rarely notice me nowadays. Such is the fate of the old, I'm afraid.”

“That... doesn't sound very well, your excellency.”

“Oh, but it is.” The old man laughed weakly, which soon ended in a coughing fit. “Some people dread such loneliness, but I? I'm almost done with my part of the life you may call social. Oh, all the days I’ve spent serving as a paladin… And all those parties… Still,” he added, “you can simply call me Uncle Goodvice, my child. Taking care of this cathedral is the lesser of my duties. Being an Uncle to you lot is what matters the most to me.”

“Y-yes, yo- Uncle Goodvice. Whatever you wish.”

The old man sighed. “Truly, child. You do not need to be so formal. Although, if it does help you, then please, by all means, be so - and I shall adjust in accordance to the will of thee.”

Mary's brain drew a blank.

“I... er...”

“We all err, child,” Uncle Goodvice said. “That is human nature, and that's what lets us be us.”

Mary blinked repeatedly, and this time she successfully confined all the undeveloped words within her mouth's confines. She felt so proud of her teeth and their ability not to crack under such force.

“So, what is it that you seek, dear child?”

That was one of the most important questions of the Authorianicism, one that every faithful was obliged to contemplate in at least four point two percent of their free time. Well... let's just say that it was one of the hardest commandments for Mary to follow.

“I... I don't know, Uncle.”

The old priest kept the smile on his face motionless.

“I mean... There is just so much going on. This place, this... whatever it actually is, I can't get how it works. What is the purpose behind it all? Why is it like this? Could it not be like this?”

The old man's eyes glistened silently in the shadows, their presence doing the heavy lifting his mouth refused to participate in at the moment. Mary felt that stare penetrating her soul, asking the questions that were never spoken, seeking the stuff hidden deep in the corners of a soul.

“Well, I want my Margaret and Hans to be back, obviously. But... what can I do about it? Do I seek it? I really don't know. I heard they survived the battle and are only kept away because of some stupid papers.” Mary lowered her eyes, but the broken remains of the once-proud building were much less comforting than the priest's face. She barely noted Mossie awarding her a hundred dollar fine for the comment. “I wanted to have friends, I think. But I never wanted to harm them, and... Uncle, you've heard about the battle with the robots, aliens, spiders, or whatever they were? It happened quite recently, or at least I think it did. I... it was my fault, what happened to them. If only I'd remembered my lessons better, or... or if I hadn't argued with Margaret, or... It shouldn't have happened, and it is all my fault.”

Tears welled Mary's eyes and blurred Uncle's face, the broken cathedral, and everything else. She took the illusing necklace off, revealing the black veins under her skin. “And what good did it do? Just look at me. That stupid armour did nothing to protect me from this! Why, Uncle? Why would the Author allow something like that to happen? WHY?! Him and the Al-”

“Shh...”

The girl's voice echoed in the naves, mixing with the organ's subtle melody. Somehow the priest's shushing whisper cut the tirade like a katana passing through a sushi roll, leaving Mary winded. Only then did she realise that she had just yelled at an elderly Uncle, and in the middle of the cathedral, no less. And what she had been going to say before she was interrupted...

“Uncle, I'm sorry, I-”

“Do not worry, child.” Somehow the priest was still smiling warmly, even compassionately, despite her outburst. “The Author doesn't mind you speaking your mind, I'm sure. But please, be more careful about the Almighty's names in the future, would you?”

Mary nodded so vigorously that her white hair must have gone a few whole degrees up in the messiness scale. She couldn't believe that she went that far, even as angry and desperate as she was. Most commandments were just there, and people tried to follow them more or less - usually less, to be honest. But this one, 'respect the Almighty above everything else'? Mary couldn't remember ever hearing about anyone breaking it. And seeing the level of stupidity people usually represented, someone would surely have tried...

“Alright, then.” The smile deepened, and Mary worried if the cracks wouldn't go all the way past the man's head, cutting it into pieces. “So, Mary, is 'why' what you seek?”

The girl paused. Was that it? “N-no, Uncle Goodvice, I-I don't think that's it.” She thought for a moment, searching for the right words. “It's just... I feel like I've wasted so much time. I feel like I could have done so much more. Right now, I have a party that was good to me... well, mostly, and I feel like I should do better, but they don't seem to need any help I could offer, and... and I don't know what to do anymore.”

“Well,” the priest said, “haven't you just told me that you never knew?”

Mary blinked again. Her eyes should have been really happy with today's moisture delivery, especially in the general desert she moved into recently. Then, she snapped her head to the sudden rattle and explosions she heard coming from the other side of the building.

“Oh, dear. It's the mechagargoyles again.” He sighed. “Poor creatures... They'll never understand they can't prevail against me.”

He placed one of the frail hands on Mary's head, and she felt a wave of warmth spreading through her body. “I'll have to deal with them before they do something really stupid. Take care of yourself too, child. I know you'll find your way.”

Wait, he wasn't going to... “Uncle, you don't mean to fight anything, do you?” She looked at the frail body, barely keeping itself upright.

“Why, of course, I do.”

“But...”

“Mary. Your path lies elsewhere, and it's already waiting. Don't keep it waiting too long, would you?”

He sent her one last smile and slowly walked into the distance. Mary's eyes followed him, then looked at the book she was still holding. Shaking her head, she left the place and let her feet beat a steady rhythm to the accompaniment of the self-playing organs.

Only outside did her brain really register the words she'd just heard. She whirled around, but the cathedral was already gone - she found herself staring on a large patch of uneven sand, with a single apple tree rising above the nearby buildings.