Anomaly

Chapter 373 – Worship of the true gods [19]

(POV – Protagonist)

As the priest watched me with a curious look, too curious, actually, and a slightly odd, almost out-of-place expression, I felt a faint presence in the air. It was subtle, nearly imperceptible, like a chill running across your skin before you even notice it. I wouldn’t know how to name that feeling. It wasn’t exactly fear, much less comfort... but something about it pulled my memory toward a specific place.

In a way, it was similar to the sensation I felt when my little sister, Chronas, and I went to the “Flow of Time” in an attempt to free her from her eternal burden. Well... technically, I’m not even sure if it would be correct to call it a burden.

The “Flow of Time” wasn’t exactly sentient. There was no will of its own forcing Chronas, its creator, to remain there. If you look at it that way, then in the end... maybe the one truly responsible for that “burden” was me.

After all, I was the one who never took her away from there. Even knowing, or at least suspecting, how she really felt about that place... Actually, even now, I’m not sure why. Every time I get close to that memory, something inside me hesitates, as if my own mind refuses to complete the thought.

So I decided not to dwell on it. Not now. Whatever reason I had in the past for leaving Chronas trapped in the “Flow of Time” doesn’t matter as much anymore. What matters... is that now she’s with me.

That said, the feeling that had brushed past me seconds ago returned, subtle, but undeniably there. The priest seemed to notice something off in the atmosphere as well. His brow lifted slightly, a small but clear enough reaction to be noticed.

The curious, fixed gaze he had been directing at me shifted, sliding toward the bedroom door. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, just enough to betray a silent suspicion.

As for me, I pushed that uneasy sensation aside with a conscious effort and refocused on the room. My eyes swept across it more carefully, taking in the details: photographs scattered carelessly, some partially hidden beneath objects.

That was when my gaze landed on the bedside table. On top of it lay several irregularly cut pieces of paper. It took me a moment to realize they all belonged to a single photograph, or what remained of it.

The fragments were so mutilated that reconstructing the original image seemed impossible, torn edges, overlapping cuts, missing pieces. Even so, one detail caught my attention. Among the scraps, a small fragment stood out, showing a few thin, almost translucent white strands of what I assumed was hair.

My thoughts began to spin wildly, like a gear out of control, as the pieces finally started to fall into place. Truth be told, I only knew one person in the world capable of having translucent white hair... and no, that wasn’t exactly something just any human could have.

White hair alone was already rare, practically unnatural, but strands that seemed to let light pass through them, like glass under the sun? That went beyond unusual and straight into the realm of anomalies.

If someone came across something like that, they wouldn’t think they were looking at an ordinary person. No... they’d think they were staring at something that shouldn’t exist. And that’s exactly why I reached a single conclusion about who was in that photo. Me.

The realization came with a strange silence. But then another question surfaced, uneasy, scratching at the back of my mind: why was the photo torn apart? My fingers twitched slightly. This priest... did he have something against me? Some kind of grudge?

For some reason, thinking about it made a sharp sense of injustice grow in my chest. He was the one doing wrong. Him. And yet, somehow, I was the one being hated... to the point that someone would tear my photo apart like that.

I let out a short, irritated sigh. I may not be the best example when it comes to anomalies... far from it. But still, I consider myself, at the very least, reasonable. I have limits. Rules. After all... I’ve never killed a human. At least... not one who didn’t deserve that fate. And that, in a way, should count as a good deed. Or at the very least... enough.

Anyway, I didn’t have time to reflect on it as deeply as I would’ve liked. Out of nowhere, low voices, almost swallowed by cautious whispers, began echoing from the other side of the bedroom door, breaking the silence and catching my attention: “Why is there a place like this in the back of a church?”

I recognized the voice immediately, Laura. There was a hint of disbelief mixed with suspicion. If she was here, it wouldn’t take long for Emily to show up as well, and, as expected, the next voice that came through the wooden door was hers: “Regardless of whatever nonsense that fraudulent angel is spouting, we need to find the [Angel of Death] before she causes... irreversible problems”

Anyway... setting aside Emily’s less-than-kind words about me, I’ll admit I didn’t expect them to find me this quickly. Still, thinking about it now, maybe it was inevitable. There weren’t that many places I could go, not after my almost obsessive insistence on following the priest. I practically drew them a map without even realizing it.

I have a feeling Althea let it slip on purpose... yeah, she probably wanted to see how this would all play out. But what really gets to me is something else: how did they make it all the way here without drawing attention? Chronas? The possibility echoes in my mind almost naturally. Emily complained so many times about using her abilities. But it seems... in the end, she gave in.

My eyes shifted toward the priest. Even so, I kept my focus on the bedroom door. Without looking at it directly, I could still clearly perceive everything around me, including the door.

The priest, on the other hand, looked visibly confused. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and his gaze flickered between me and the door. It was obvious: he hadn’t expected so many visitors showing up one after another, especially not in his private quarters.

While my mind wandered through these details, he spoke to me from the side, his voice low, tinged with curiosity and a hint of caution: “Your family? Sounds like they’re looking for someone who’s gone missing... and you?”

I decided to answer honestly. There was no real reason to lie about it, it would just be unnecessary effort: “Possibly” I replied, indifferent.

The priest shot me a sidelong glance, silent but filled with judgment. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, as if trying to see something beneath the surface. His lips parted slightly, hesitating, as though carefully weighing his words. But whatever he was about to say was cut short.

The drawn-out creak of the door echoed through the room. In the next instant, Emily and Laura, followed by my sisters, practically stormed into the room without any ceremony. The impact was immediate. Their eyes swept across the space in an instinctive reflex, as if trying to take in every chaotic detail at once. None of them managed to hide their shock.

Emily and Laura’s expressions were the most telling. Their faces shifted by the second, cycling through surprise, confusion, and a growing sense of horror, as if their minds refused to accept what their eyes insisted on seeing.

You could almost pinpoint the exact moment each new realization clicked, or failed to click, into place. And at the center of it all were me and the priest. Still. Out of place. Just our presence in this already strange setting made the scene even more... peculiar.

“Oh my...” The first to react, as expected, was Althea. Her voice barely seemed to exist in the air, so soft that to any ordinary human it would’ve been nothing more than a nonexistent whisper, more like an echo formed in the mind than an actual sound.

She brought one hand to her lips, her fingers resting delicately as if trying to contain her surprise, or maybe hide the smile threatening to form. Still, her eyes betrayed her. There was a lively glint in them, amused and mischievous, as if this unexpected situation was, deep down, particularly entertaining to her.

“I didn’t realize we had such a devoted admirer...” she added, her voice laced with light irony, her expression shifting between charm and subtle provocation.

Even so, the priest didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable as I would’ve expected him to be in a situation like this. I mean... this is basically the equivalent of getting caught by your parents doing something you clearly shouldn’t be doing. That said, thinking of it that way only made everything feel even stranger, and, to be honest, a bit embarrassing too.

Still, to my surprise, the unexpected arrival of the newcomers didn’t shake his composure in the slightest. On the contrary, the priest stood upright, hands calmly clasped in front of him, and a polite smile appeared on his lips, as if this were nothing more than a routine visit.

Then, naturally, he said: “I wasn’t expecting so many guests in my quarters tonight. It’s a shame I can’t offer you anything...” He glanced briefly around, as if confirming his own limitation: “Since all the utensils and tea are kept in the opposite wing of the church, which I usually use as a kitchen”

His voice, firm and unexpectedly clear, drew everyone’s attention almost immediately. Emily and Laura exchanged glances, their faces marked by obvious confusion, as if they were trying, unsuccessfully, to organize their thoughts in the face of what they were seeing. Both of them looked lost, unsure of how to react to... well, all of this.

And honestly, I couldn’t blame them. I wouldn’t know how to react either. I’m not sure what they expected when they followed me. If I had to guess... I’d say they imagined something simpler. Maybe the missing priest, or at least some logical trace that could explain his disappearance. Something that made sense.

But instead, what they found was something completely different: a suffocating room, covered in an unsettling number of photos. Photos of me. Photos of my sisters. Spread across the walls, the table, some even scattered on the floor.

As if she had stepped straight into my thoughts, Laura was the next to speak. Her words echoed exactly what I had just been thinking: “Honestly... I’m not sure what to say” she murmured, her voice low and filled with hesitation.

Her gaze slowly moved over the scattered photos, as if trying to make sense of them. Her eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment she seemed to hold her breath, clearly uncomfortable: “This is... really bizarre” she added, choosing her words carefully.