It's never too late to go to church

The question hung between the two as the boy slowly pushed himself upward.

His arms felt numb and stiff; all his movement had been restricted just a second ago, and, like cutting strings, he abruptly regained the control he had been losing.

He gazed up at the ceiling once again, his eyes adjusting to the light dimming around him while his lips moved once more, directed toward the woman in red.

"Seems like it..." He let out a grunt before smirking to himself; even without her speaking, he could somewhat understand what was happening here. "That weird old man, he wanted me to meet you, didn't he?"

As if answering his question, the woman shifted her posture a little.

The minor twist of her fingers around her knees was perfectly clear to Valentine as he let out a soft laugh and held onto his knees.

That's just unfair...

Shaking his head, he stood up, brushing off dirt and dust from his long coat.

Now, not only everything he owned but also what he would have gained came from Sunday.

"I knew it. I just knew he wouldn't let me go that easily."

He murmured under his nose in amusement, his hands curling up into fists before falling to his pockets in resignation.

He sounded angry and perhaps a little dejected about the fact that he had no say in that matter; it was clear in his tone as the woman kept listening to his complaints without a single word.

"Not only did he keep avoiding most of my questions, but he also decided to send me here? To his sidekick?" He sneered. "What is it with you people to try and kill anyone that comes your way? Do you get pleasure from doing that to someone weaker than you? If so, go at it! I'm wide open!"

"What a joke it is, not only that freakish guy but the people here..."

His voice trailed off, both his eyes hidden from the sudden chill washing across the chapel.

A pair of clear golden eyes was looking down on him from above; the weight of her gaze was strangely alluring and petrifying to anyone who would have chosen to stare back into them.

Those eyes seemed to remind him of someone, a person perhaps, someone whom he once knew for a short time? He furrowed his brows for a while as he tried to remember every person he ever came across, yet none of them had the same eyes with a shade of citrus.

Ramona, still sitting leisurely over the ledge, leaned forward slightly, her hands going down and holding onto the shattered pieces of wood next to her.

"Are you done?"

She asked as if ready to start her song once more, her stare so chilling that he could feel two tiny flames boiling up within her pupils, ready to burst and set him ablaze.

Valentine was already fed up with the way he was being treated; granted, he was just a nobody who came out of nowhere. He had yet to even figure out what had happened for him to suddenly manifest in this world, and being beaten half to death for two days in a row did not help him think it over.

With those thoughts bottling up inside his head, he let out a long, heavy sigh before turning his head away and muttering with attitude.

"Maybe... but I'm sure you're going to hear more of it."

He looked up at her, crossing his arms.

"Can we talk normally, though? I'd prefer not to shout from all the way down here. Do those broken stairs lead to the second floor?"

He gestured toward the opening he noticed a while ago which would most definitely lead him to the second floor; however, instead, Ramona chose a different way.

"Alright."

She said calmly before sliding down the edge, her body dropping.

Valentine's eyes widened as his mouth moved first, cursing under his nose while watching the woman glide down the air as if it were a slide, slowly hovering above the ground with her crimson robes fluttering like wings until her feet touched the solid ground, sending a small gust of wind in all directions.

I... Sigh, Jesus Christ, why can't anyone act normal for once?

While questioning his life choices for a hundredth time, Ramona walked past him in a smooth stride, making her way toward the broken altar where he had previously noticed a spark.

Her expression was simple, quiet, and calm, completely unaffected by Valentine's behaviour towards her.

Her lips were pressed together into a light smile that made his stomach churn from looking at it.

"Before we engage in a conversation, do you mind answering a question?"

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Again with the riddles?

Valentine furrowed his brows, but didn't let the frustration show on his face.

"Sure." He shrugged.

Ramona stood over the broken altar, her hands coming down toward the sceptre stuck inside it.

Her fingers didn't have enough time to hold onto the handle, let alone wrap themselves around it as it came out of the stone with no effort at all.

The tool seemingly slid into her grip like a serpent, settling into her palm perfectly.

Looking at it closely from the side, Valentine could barely make out any features it held, mostly because it was still covered in an old, dusty cloth that clung to it like glue.

Only its size and handle were somewhat discernible, with it being around a meter long and made of steel and rusted gold.

Fancy.

Ramona turned toward him, holding the sceptre in both of her hands.

"Please state your name." She asked, with her eyes still closed.

A little taken aback by it, Valentine looked around in case he was being tricked into doing something he would regret. The mood around them switched fast, too fast for his taste.

Is this some sort of ceremonial tool?

It would make quite a lot of sense for her to bless his soul or whatever since they were literally in a chapel, a place meant to pray to gods.

The woman herself was dressed as a nun, which would make it even more believable if he weren't a witness to her strange powers.

Noah never told me about anything like this.

Sensing the boy's hesitation, Ramona looked up from the sceptre, her voice slow.

"He... didn't tell you?"

Who told me—ah!

Realising what was happening, Valentine laughed inwardly at its absurdity.

He didn't expect someone as grand and kind as Sunday to forget something.

With a growing smirk, he answered her, not trying to hide his amusement.

"If you're talking about Sunday, then... No, in fact, he just suddenly left without a word and left me the letter of invitation. Is this something Important?"

Ramona stayed silent for a moment, looking at Valentine with a strange expression painted on her face.

Her lips twitched slightly, as did her hands and brows.

"Ah... ahah..."

With her melodic voice ringing across the empty chapel, the woman broke out laughing.

Okay, now I'm concerned.

Wiping away her tears, she straightened her posture and exhaled, a light smile touching her lips.

"Right, he's always like this."

"Like what?"

He asked cocking his head.

"Old. Too old to expect him to do everything perfectly."

She ran her fingers through her silky white hair, clearing away the stray strands of hair from her face.

She didn't seem to be surprised by this as she held up one of her hands and held the sceptre with the other.

"Let me then explain it to you in simple terms." She pointed at the cloth-covered sceptre.

"This is a ceremonial tool meant to cleanse new believers and help them gain a better understanding of themselves. You may not remember it since your memory is supposedly flawed, but it's something every child has to go through after being born; because your memory was erased, so was the protection placed upon you."

She pointed at her chest.

"I will be the one to conduct the ceremony; it will be short, but effective."

She pointed at Valentine.

"And you have to agree for me to start it, mainly by sharing your name, as it is the easiest way of giving consent."

"Because your selection was recently finished, you're still unstable and prone to corruption; the easiest way to prevent it is to cleanse you of any lingering impurities."

She once again gripped the sceptre firmly, both of her hands tightening around the handle.

"If you won't agree to it, you won't be able to live a comfortable life and will soon turn into a charred thing, which will most likely result in a prolonged, painful death, which I assume was not something you wanted?"

With the most innocent smile Valentine has ever seen, plastered over her devilishly gorgeous face, she once again asked in the calmest tone he's heard her speak in so far.

"Please, state your name."

"Valentine, it's just Valentine."

Everything proceeded smoothly.

The ceremony went on until the first signs of dawn spilled from behind the mountaintops.