The bell began counting saints with people who were not saints.
The first label frightened me more than an attack would have.
An attack understood itself. A label could pretend to be observation. It could sit above a child's bed, clean and glowing, while everyone argued about meaning and forgot the child underneath it.
Saint-count candidate.
Candidate for what?
Usefulness. Access. Opening. Death.
The bell did not care about holiness. It cared about leverage wrapped in reverence.
That was how we understood the trap.
It did not start with Seraphina.
It started with Merrit.
The sleeping boy's gray twine glowed once. The patient-visible tally beside him flickered. His name rose into the air above the chapel cot.
[Merrit: witness / protected / harmed-party.]
Then the board added a new word.
[Saint-count candidate.]
Seraphina's face changed.
So did Caldus's.
Yoren whispered, "No."
For once, he sounded honest.
The word appeared again.
