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Sparrow paused beneath the shadows of one of the stripped-down airships, ducking beneath what was left of the prow. “Inside that airship is the largest temple to Phaeros in Lumina,” he told me. “Human slaves and thralls come here once a week to worship.”
“What?” I scoured his face, looking for any sign that he was lying, then back toward the steady stream of people entering. Sure enough, each person who lowered their hood had rounded human ears. “Does Maximillian know about this place?”
“He does,” Sparrow confirmed. “As well as all the smaller temples hidden around the city.”
I frowned. “And he allows this?”
“He turns a blind eye, as do the majority of vampires in this city.” Sparrow gave a small smile at the look of utter confusion on my face. “Emperor Vladimir ordered the main temple to be destroyed, as well as most of the statues of deities and historical figures, but that didn’t stop the humans from finding ways to worship. If a temple’s location is exposed, Maximillian has no choice but to destroy it, so I use my talents to make sure that any vampire who stumbles upon one and is inclined to report it is incentivized to… look the other way.”
I scowled. “How do I know you’re telling the truth about it?”
Sparrow shrugged. “Go and see for yourself.”
I took a step forward, then hesitated. “You’re not going to come?”
Sparrow flicked the tip of one of his ears. “Afraid the sun god wouldn’t be too happy to see me, love. But you’ll be just fine.” He winked at me. “Say hi to Phaeros while you’re in there for me.”
“You—” I started, but he sped off, blasting me with a gust of wind in his wake. Scowling, I turned in the direction that he’d ran in, but there was little point in trying to catch up with him. He was absurdly fast, and I had no hope of keeping up with his supernatural speed in my current condition.
Sighing, I turned back to see what Jinx thought, only to see she’d left me behind and was more than halfway toward the airship. Exasperated—was absolutelyeveryonegoing to boss me around today?—I jogged after her, arriving at the base of the gangwayjust in time for her to jump into the arms of the guard, who looked startled but pleased.
“Sorry about her,” I said as she wound her way around his shoulders. “She doesn’t really have any concept of personal space.”
The guard chuckled. He had salt and pepper hair and a wiry build, his olive face lined with age. Shadows dogged his gray eyes, no doubt from the stress of living under vampire rule, yet there was a cheerful spark in them. “No need to apologize,” he said, reaching up to stroke a hand down Jinx’s spine. “Cats, especially ones as well-fed as this one, are rare enough in this day and age that seeing one is always a happy occasion.”
Jinx purred and rubbed herself against the man’s cheek, then jumped down to follow me up the gangplank. Stepping into the interior of the airship, I was struck by the transformation it had undergone. The space, which I imagined had once been meant for passengers and cargo, had been hollowed out to create a humble yet heartfelt sanctuary. The walls were lined with wooden planks, salvaged from who knows where, giving the space a warm, if rustic, feel. Rows of roughly hewn benches lined the makeshift worship hall, with a path down the center leading to a simple altar. The altar itself was a large wooden crate, draped with a faded gold cloth. On it sat a few candles, their flames casting a soft, inviting glow, and hanging behind it was a tapestry of Phaeros.
Though I was a devotee of Hecate, the sight of the sun god, hand-painted with loving care, gripped me with unexpected emotion. The deity was depicted as a majestic figure, draped in robes that seemed to shimmer like the sun's rays, blending vibrant shades of gold, orange, and red. His eyes were painted as two brilliant stars, radiating wisdom and warmth. In one hand, he held astaff topped with a radiant sunburst, symbolizing his dominion over daylight and his role as a bringer of light. Around his feet, a variety of creatures, both mythical and real, basked in his nurturing glow, demonstrating his connection to all life. The borders of the tapestry were adorned with intricate patterns that mimicked the radiance of the sun and the vibrant life it sustains, all coming together to create a sense of divine presence and benevolent power.
“It’s almost like looking at the sun, isn’t it?” a nearby voice spoke. I glanced to my right to see a young woman gazing at the tapestry in wonder. Her pale brown eyes shone in the light from the aether crystals hanging overhead. She wore a factory worker’s uniform; a simple blue jumpsuit with the logo of the aetheric power plant—a sleek, geometric design of an atom with three elliptical rings orbiting around a central, glowing aether crystal—stamped on her breast. Her uniform was open at the collar, and my mouth dropped open at the sight of a vicious-looking bite mark on her neck.
“Are you all right?” I gasped, before remembering that as a human, this might not be such a shocking sight to see amongst fellow slaves.
“Hmm? Oh.” Her hand went self-consciously to the mark. “Yes, I’m fine. My overseer… he likes to snack sometimes.” She laughed nervously, zipping up her jumpsuit to hide the bite mark. “In return, he lets me go home early so I can spend time with my mother.” Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. “She’s getting older now, and can’t see too well, so she doesn’t work at the factory anymore. I don’t know how much time she has left, and I want to spend as much of it with her as I can.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart clenched with pity, and a sense of hopelessness washed over me. Could aetheric medicine not helpthis woman? I was certain that the elixir Eliza had given me would revitalize her… but she’d said it was in extremely limited supply, so I imagined the healers here weren’t giving them out to human slaves. Especially not ones who were essentially dying of old age.
“It’s all right.” The woman smiled, some of the clouds in her eyes lifting as she gazed at the tapestry. “I’m just grateful I can provide, and also find the time to sneak away for worship.” She glanced at me as the priest—an older man in patched yellow robes with sunbursts embroidered upon both breasts—ambled up to the front of the worship hall, an old leather book clutched in his hand. “You’re new, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you here before.”
I nodded. “My friends told me about this place, but it’s very… out of the way. It’s the first time I’ve had an opportunity to attend service here.”
The woman looked as if she wanted to say more, but the priest cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the small congregation. We all took our seats as he opened his book, holding it open in his weathered hands.
“Welcome, beloved Children of Phaeros.” He smiled, his aged voice carrying a warmth that seemed to ripple through the room. “It gladdens my heart to see each of you here today, despite the dangers that come with making your pilgrimage here every week.” His faded blue eyes passed over each of us, lingering on me for just a heartbeat before continuing on. “In these dark times, when our skies remain shadowed and vampires rule our city, it is more crucial than ever to show up for service, to wield the power of prayer in the hopes that our sun god will awaken from his slumber and arise once more to deliver us.”
He opened the leather book, his fingers reverently turning the pages. "We may not understand why Phaeros has retreated from our world, but we must trust in his divine wisdom. He has not forsaken us; rather, he challenges us to find strength within ourselves, to kindle the flame of hope and faith in our hearts. It is through this faith, this unyielding devotion, that we will see his glorious light return to our skies."
I frowned, not sure I believed Phaeros’s disappearance had anything to do with testing the faith of his followers. But the congregation seemed to take heart in the priest’s words, pressing their hands to their hearts and bowing their heads in gratitude.
I sat silently as the priest delivered his sermon, his words echoing around the walls of the airship. He shared a tale from the Book of Dawn about a Marisian prince who found himself lost at sea after the ship he’d been traveling on had sunk during a terrible storm. Isolated and adrift in an endless expanse of water with only a makeshift raft to keep him from drowning, the prince’s situation seemed hopeless. Yet despite his fear and uncertainty, the sailor maintained his faith in Phaeros, offering prayers and remaining vigilant as he navigated the lonely waters. His perseverance was rewarded when, three days later a giant sea turtle demigod called Moranga surfaced. He offered the prince a ride and brought him back to his people safely, who threw a massive celebration in Moranga and Phaeros’s honor to celebrate the miracle.
"Just as the Marisian prince navigated the treacherous sea, so too must we navigate these times under the Eternal Night,” the priest said, his voice rising with conviction. “Our situation, while challenging, is not cause for despair, but a call to maintain our faith and hope. Let this sailor's journey remind us we are not lost in these dark times. Instead, we have the opportunity to find ourown guiding light — in our unwavering devotion to Phaeros and in the strength we draw from our community."
The priest then led the congregation in a collective prayer, and finished with a hymn honoring the sun god and his undying light. Afterward, he took up a spot just outside the exit, saying farewell to each congregation member as they passed through the doors. I noted Jinx was nowhere to be found—it seemed sermons weren’t her thing—so I lingered at the back of the line, watching the priest as he smiled and shook hands and engaged in short yet personal exchanges with each and every person. It was clear that he cared for each member of his flock, enough to remember individual names and details of their lives. The sight filled me with a wave of homesickness, and I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat as memories surfaced. My life amongst the Nocturne Clan hadn’t been perfect, but I’d still found community amongst my fellow witches, something I was sorely missing.
It had been over fifty years since I performed a Twilight Communion—nearly half a century since I’d sang praises to Hecate, since I’d felt the rush of magic in my veins that came from opening my heart to the goddess and allowing her to fill me with her light. In less than a week, I would be performing it, but on my own, with no priestess to guide me or sisters to dance with.
I forced down the tears that threatened to rise before the priest could see them, and offered him a small smile as I approached. “Thank you for the sermon,” I told him, and I meant it. “It’s been a very long time since I attended worship, and I’m grateful.”
