Xanthy bit down on her tongue to keep her mouth shut. She wanted to turn to her friends and ask another question but looking at the stern priest standing at the end of her aisle, she forced herself not to.

She craned her neck at the columns supporting the roof of the Temple and whistled softly. Gods, if these toppled, she'd be crushed flat in seconds. Huge bowls of fire sat atop each column, the flames within them bathing the Temple in a harsh orange ambience even though the sun shone outside.

Xanthy shifted on her seat, playing with her fingers as more brownies dressed in a variety of clothing styles paraded into the Temple and found their seats. This was her first time attending a communal ceremony with actual nobles in it and she couldn't shake off the cloud of inferiority it brought. Not only did she not understand what the Temple people were doing, she also didn't have any inkling on what to do at the event unfolding in front of her.

The crowd gave a round of applause and Xanthy joined a full five claps after, looking around her. Was she even clapping right? Was there even something called right clapping?

Down rows upon rows of benches sloping downwards ending in front of a raised platform decorated with flowers with fire-red petals and green stems strode the Alkaran Royal family dressed finely in red and velvet. They walked towards the center of the stage and stopped to gaze at the crowd. A hushed silence filled the Temple that only the crackle of embers from the braziers and the occasional shifting wind could be heard.

A man not older than twenty by human standards (but probably hundreds of years old by fairy standards) strode forward and cleared his throat.

"My dear friends," his voice flooded the entire venue like he might as well have been talking in a tube enchanted with a voice-amplifying spell. Xanthy squinted at the man dressed in a similar garb like Cyrdel (looked a lot like Cyrdel, too) and pursed her lips. Nope. No voice amplification spells around.

What a monster of a voice, then.

"We have gathered here to celebrate another day of honoring our heroes by the blessed Nira of Calaris," the man, who must be the King of Alkara, continued.

Xanthy leaned into June who sat next to her. "Who's Nira?"

A priestess gave her a cursory hiss from her place at one end of Xanthy's aisle. Xanthy flinched as her heart twinged with guilt. From the priestess's thin, ecru veil, Xanthy swore she could feel eyes trained on her.

"The god of valor and war," June whispered back, earning another bout of shushing from the priestess. "He's supposedly up there in Calaris, the realm of the gods, but who cares about that?"

Xanthy pursed her lips. Did June just deride the gods? Okay, he was not a fan of religion but who was? She shrugged and craned her neck at the mural hovering them like a clawed hand. It depicted two sides at war with each other. Swords, spells, and men frozen mid-scream littered the whole ceiling. So much for Brownies not wanting aggression and believing in peace.

Temple people, who wore long veils over their faces, strode here and there, helping late brownies find more seats. Xanthy noticed that some wore floor-length dresses that hid their sandaled feet while some donned coats and trousers. All of them were white, though.

""For centuries, we have gathered in this sacred place to remember every valiant deed done to us by the people we honor," the Alkaran King continued in his splendid Ylanenla. "For centuries, we have pleased Nira with our offerings. Let us renew our covenant today and give thanks to our heroes, living or those who have passed on to the Land of Wonders."

Xanthy's stomach turned at the mention of the afterlife and at another unpleasant memory that came with it. She stared up at the ceiling again before bringing her gaze down to her boots several sizes smaller than her current foot size. There was no use looking up anymore, not when it reminded her of what happened in that tower.

"So, my dear friends," a woman dressed in a similar gown like Ravalee with tighter sleeves, stepped forward and added, falling into step with her husband and clasping his arm. She must be the Queen. Her Ylanenla was good. Xanthy would give the Queen that. "Let us remember every good and honorable deed done to and for us. Let them be kept forever in our memories. Let us be glad for we are the people who have the honor of appearing before Nira. Let the renewing of the covenant begin."

Xanthy whirled around. Covenant? What covenant?

June placed a hand on her arm. Xanthy raised her eyes to meet his and he smiled at her. Her heart chose not to panic at the apparent covenant that she would be swearing with no idea how and instead focused on the fact that June was smiling at her like that.

Blood rushed to her face as the Temple people moved in, passing packets from crates by their feet. When had they gotten those crates there, even? Something crunched inside the packet as soon as it rested on Xanthy's hand. There's something flaky inside. From two seats from her, Nyxis took a sniff and wrinkled his nose.

"Lowevire," the human rubbed his nose with his finger. "Makes me sneeze and tear up," he gave Xanthy a sheepish smile.

Xanthy brought the packet to her nose and sniffed. Her nostrils flared with sweet and flowery odors. She raised her eyebrows at Nyxis. "This is not so bad."

Nyxis shrugged. Around them, the Temple people were still passing around packets to the attendees. "They are extremely potent laxatives, so watch yourself," Nyxis shrugged and craned his head at the priestess in another attempt to shush them.

Nyxis smiled at the priestess. The shushing never came. Xanthy's eyebrows crept closer to her hairline once more. Huh. To have that kind of charm, indeed.

Xanthy looked down at her own packet and with her fingers, she felt the cloth. Its coarse surface reminded Xanthy of the clothes she wore as a Disfavored for the last sixteen years. She knitted her eyebrows. They were just used for leaf packets here?

Down at the raised dais, a priestess presented the Royal family with their own packets, dipping half of her body every time she came across one of the Royals. From his place beside the Queen, Xanthy could swear she just saw Cyrdel wince.

A bead of sweat lined the side of Xanthy's face. Had she really been travelling with royalty all this time? Unbelievable. Was that what Cyrdel meant when he pointed out that Nyxis was a royal too? Huh.

Once the priestess had gone off the platform, the Royal family raised their hands, with the fragrant packet on their palms. "Bless our lands. Bless our people. Bless our souls. Nira, we call upon you. Bless us," the King's voice rang across the hall like a deep thrum of a gong.

The crowd followed what the King said with Xanthy mumbling along. What was she supposed to say again?

Then, from the platform, fire danced in the Royal family's palms, making Xanthy yelp. All around her, the brownies set fire to their own packets on their hands through a nifty rysteme spell. June grinned at Xanthy, his own packet burning too.

Xanthy blew a breath and summoned her magic as well. Within seconds, she held a burning packet too. The scent of lowevire wafted around the room, making Xanthy's nose itch. She rubbed her nose and stifled the oncoming sneeze. It did smell bad in large quantities.

As soon as the last of the packets burned without turning to ashes, a collective hush fell among the brownies once more. This time, Cyrdel stepped forward. "Dear friends," he said in a monotonous voice. "Let us recite the Creed to Honor and Valor."

Xanthy knitted her eyebrows. The what now?

"You don't need to know the words to everything," June turned to her and shrugged. "Just listen."

Another shushing noise from the priestess. Xanthy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she sighed and turned her ears to hear Cyrdel better. June's shoulders brushed against hers and they were almost touching. Ignore that. That didn't mean anything.

"By the holy blood of Nira," Cyrdel started and the crowd followed as one. The words bled in Xanthy's ears, talking about strength, protection, sacred soils. Yadda, yadda. Cyrdel moved through the verses with an easy command, the crowd going along with him.

Xanthy listened. What did those words even mean? All around her, most of the brownies stared passively, their mouths moving along the verses they long ago memorized. Xanthy blinked when she noticed the nobles not even moving their mouths. Was that allowed when they're the nobles? Still, a flood of different voices, both deep and shrill, drowned out every single noise present in the room.

"Fill us with honor and valor, we abide," Cyrdel finished before stepping back in line again. Oh, so that was why it was called Creed to Honor and Valor. At least, Xanthy got that.

A reverent silence swept through the crowd once more. Not from Xanthy, though. The gods were nothing but mere fantasy for Xanthy. What was she doing in this ceremony anyway? Oh, to humor Cyrdel. That's all.

With Umazure alone, there were hundreds, maybe even thousands of gods for everything. Religion expected them to please each one and that would not only be impossible, it would be impractical. If there were indeed gods, why haven't they gone down from their heavenly realm, Cala-something, and conduct their own fripping ceremonies?

Why would she please something she couldn't even see?

A bout of rustling caught Xanthy's attention. She turned just in time to catch a wooden box being passed to her by a priestess. She knitted her eyebrows and held it to her face for a closer look. It was...peculiar.

"What is this?" Xanthy held it out for Nyxis and June to see. Her voice echoed weakly across the hall. Xanthy covered her mouth with her hand. Oops. The priestess who kept shushing them shook her head and shrugged.

"A memory box," June glanced at the priestess giving up on shushing them and grinned. He was amused. He jerked his chin into Xanthy's memory box and held up his own. "Push this button right here...and now you have an open memory box."

"Yeah, but what does it do?" Xanthy turned the box no wider than her palm to find the button on one of its faces. She pressed it and gave a yelp when it sprang open to reveal a mess of gears, springs, and other mechanical things inside. Huh. Interesting.

A strange whirring sound echoed from the gears as they started turning. Okay, what now? She glanced at June to find him staring at his own memory box with a blank look.

"June?" she elbowed him and inclined her head at him. "You okay?" He looked confused for a second before Xanthy waved the box at his face. "I just asked you what it does?"

June snapped as if he just remembered."Ah, yes," he pressed the button from his memory box and it popped open in his hands. "It lets you speak into it and it will record your voice. You can play it over and over again once the gears note your message."

"Like a music box?" Xanthy prompted.

June opened his mouth to answer but the Alkaran King's voice tore through the venue once again. "Dear friends, today we honor our heroes with our words," he said. Xanthy trained her eyes at the platform to note the King raising his own box in his palms. "Speak your wishes, your thanks, and your honor into these boxes and pray it will reach their ears."

Heroes, huh? Xanthy's brain ran through a list of people she knew. Do they count? So far, none has done anything for her out of kindness. All her interactions with the Disfavoreds were out of their need to survive. Perhaps, they could do?

Brownies bent into their boxes and soon, a slew of garbled whispers ensued. No one looked past their shoulders to observe. Everyone was earnest in saying their wishes.

All except June.

Xanthy glanced at him and noticed him just staring into his box, his face back to its blank facade once more. She opened her mouth to speak but shook her head. Finally, June sighed and closed his box. He let his hand fall to his side.

Xanthy turned away. She didn't see that. Instead, she turned to her own box splayed out in her fingers. Who was the hero she wanted to honor and what in the Queen's stockings was she supposed to say. She squeezed her eyes shut.

What even defined a hero? Someone who showed her kindness. Someone who encouraged her. Someone who saved her. What kind of person would fit that?

Her eyes opened. Of course.

Jarvik.

Remembering the human and how he died sent another pang of guilt and misery to Xanthy's gut. Her breaths quickened and she gripped the box tighter than she should have.

To her, he's the only one who showed her what it's like to be happy, to be content. He's the only one who died because he wanted to save her. He's the only one who was willing to be hurt just for her.

It's all so unfair because Xanthy wouldn't want him to still be around to take care of his children and he still chose her.

Xanthy's eyes burned. No. Not yet. She wasn't ready to go back to that memory of the tower. His blood on her, his last words, her promise. She wasn't ready to go through it again.

Around her, the brownies finished muttering and began closing their boxes. Temple people moved through the rows, depositing the boxes into a sack. Xanthy quickly pressed hers to her lips. Her mind blanked.

What should she say to him? There's so many, but she couldn't bring herself to utter any of them. Should she thank him? Should she talk about Marin? Malin? Her words died in her throat. A priestess extended her hand, asking for her memory box. Xanthy sucked in her breath and quickly pressed her lips to the box.

Jarvik...

The priestess's hand flicked, signaling for Xanthy to hurry it. Xanthy closed her eyes and whispered as softly as she could.

Jarvik, I'm sorry.

She shut the lid of the box and passed it to the priestess like it was made of poison. Her eyes stung.

The King gave one last speech and together with the Queen, Cyrdel, and Ravalee in tow, they strode off the platform. A rugged ensemble of brownies carrying various stringed instruments replaced the Royal household. A priestess climbed next and positioned herself in the middle of the platform. Xanthy's breath hitched in her throat when the priestess removed her veil to reveal curly umber hair and a light brown skin.

Then, the priestess began to sing.

Her voice was heavenly, sweet and soft but still strong enough to flood the Temple with words talking about something called lonely, little love.

Stones dropped in Xanthy's gut. Oh. Of course. Love.

A few verses in, the words started to blur in Xanthy's mind. Was there a bit about mothers? What was that about?

Xanthy turned to June. "Does this song make sense to you?"

June shrugged before gazing at the singing priestess. "The song pertains to every face of love."

"Love has many faces?" Xanthy raised her eyebrows. Great, more confusion for her.

June nodded and held up four fingers. "The song talks about love in the form of a mother's, a brother's, a friend's and oh, the lover's bit is next."

Blood rushed into Xanthy's face. What?

Too late. The words already bled into her ears.

Oh the lonely little love took one final face
Lover's own at last we notice its rays
Years will pass and we shan't forget a bit
How this love's face touched and what lamps it lit

Oh sigh in wonder as love nigh asunder
No wonder, love is the greatest hero yonder
To this day we sing, shout this love's name
The lonely little love, in every form, is the same

The priestess ended with a series of hums and walked off the platform without any ceremony. Applause flooded the ensemble's exit. Then, the brownies stood up and began filing out of the Temple.

Xanthy sighed as she stood up and began following June and Nyxis as they wove through the throng of brownies. Love was the greatest hero with it taking so many faces and forms. Xanthy scoffed softly. That bit at least was true. So why was the one in the form of a lover the unforgettable one? What's so different about it?

A grim answer floated at the back of her head. Of course, she wouldn't understand if she never experienced it. She would only know the answers to her question if she knew what she was feeling.

Her eyes fished June out of the sea of brown, gold, and red vying for her attention. He was just another face in the crowd despite his cloud-white hair. Stil, when he gazed at the passing fairies with a guarded expression, Xanthy realized she didn't see that enough when he talked to her.

Another swirl made her gut churn. Was that what it means in liking someone? One changes themselves? Were "like" and "love" two different things?

A deep sigh heaved off of Xanthy's lips. She needed to find an answer soon. But she really couldn't do it in the midst of bodies flooding away from the Temple, could she?