The Church did not summon Seraphina to a chapel.
That would have made too much sense.
Instead, it summoned her to the Hall of Reflected Mercy, a ceremonial room between Astral Zenith's healing wing and the old theology annex. Half academy. Half Church. Entirely designed to make anyone standing inside feel observed by principles instead of people.
White stone floor.
Gold-veined columns.
Seven mirrors along the wall, each framed with a different saint's virtue.
Compassion.
Purity.
Obedience.
Sacrifice.
Clarity.
Restraint.
Mercy.
Mercy's mirror had a crack through the lower left corner.
No one had repaired it.
Either symbolism was dead, or the universe had become lazy.
Seraphina stood before the central dais in formal white-and-gold healer robes, hair braided back, expression calm enough to frighten every reasonable person in the room.
I was not allowed inside.
Officially.
