Elijah was on the verge of asking a question when his body suddenly plunged into the void. The sensation was like falling, yet taut—as if struggling against the crushing force of a waterfall. Colors swirled and fused around him, and in the chaos, he briefly glimpsed the Pope still kneeling on the floor in prayer. When the Pope rose to his feet, he clapped his hands four times, each clap at a different tempo. Elijah's head throbbed with pain, and suddenly, he found himself reclining on an oak bench.
The Pope slowly bowed and said, "Wait here. Someone will show you to your room." He had emerald-blue eyes, his hair concealed beneath his hat, and deep wrinkles lining his nose and jawline.
Perplexed, Elijah asked, "Wait, how did you know I was staying here?"
The Pope turned to him and replied, "Because I heard Mars answer."
Elijah frowned. "Sorry, but who is Mars?"
The Pope chuckled. "Mars is the name of our god. It's a nickname—none of us know his true name, not even his blessed."
A bishop entered the room, bowed to the Pope, and nodded at Elijah. "He will show you to your room. Just follow him," the Pope instructed.
Elijah followed the bishop down the hall, turning left until they reached the barracks—a long hallway lined with numbered doors. The bishop, a young man in his late twenties with brown hair and blue eyes, pointed to one.
"This is your room. There's a bed inside, and you can arrange it however you like."
"Are there any rules I should follow?" Elijah asked.
The bishop turned with a displeased look. "Of course there are rules. Do you think this is some kind of zoo?"
Elijah's expression darkened. (Why is he trying to pick a fight? I just got here.)
As the bishop turned to leave, Elijah called after him, "What was the house next door used for?"
The bishop hesitated, confused by the phrasing, but answered anyway. "That building shelters the homeless—those who refuse to devote themselves to faith. Most churches abandon them, but ours provides aid by storing clothes and supplies there. The Pope buys new garments and places them in the rooms." His tone carried a hint of pride.
(Oh… so I stole clothes from a homeless shelter.) Elijah's face twisted with regret.
"Nice clothes, by the way," the bishop smirked before walking away.
(That bastard knows.)
Alone, Elijah surveyed the room. He walked to the window, where the blood-red moon glared down at him. "I really hate that damn moon," he muttered. The space was sparse—no bathroom, just a kitchenette, a small living area, and a bedroom.
(My apartment was bigger than this.)
Finding two white sheets in the closet, he made the bed and sat on it, replaying the events that led him here. "How the hell did I end up in this situation?" He stared at his light-toned hands, exhaustion weighing on him. His eyelids grew heavy, and soon, he was asleep.
Knock! Knock!
Elijah jolted awake, his heart pounding. (Did I die again? Is that creature at the door?) Panicked, he scrambled to the window, his mind conjuring the monstrous hybrid—bull's lower torso, cat's head, dog's chest, and white horns curling from its skull.
Knock! Knock!
The sound snapped him back to reality. (I'm not dead?) He took a deep breath, remembering where he was. Slowly, he approached the door and opened it.
A girl stood there—black hair, striking green eyes, and pale peach lips. Her slim frame carried an air of quiet grace.
"You're needed in the study," she said, her voice so soothing it nearly lulled him back to sleep.
"I don't know where that is. Could you lead the way?"
She nodded. "Before that, I suggest you clean yourself up."
Elijah closed the door and hurried to the kitchen. He fixed his messy, tall hair, muttering, "I don't think I'll cut it." After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he cracked his neck and reopened the door. The girl was still waiting.
"Oh, did you wait long?"
She didn't answer, simply turning to walk. Elijah followed.
They passed through a garden filled with strange, unfamiliar plants. "This is the church's garden. Some plants contain spirituality; others are ordinary." A few emitted a faint blue glow.
Next, they entered a hall of towering bookshelves that stretched like skyscrapers. Elijah nearly wandered off, mesmerized, but forced himself to stay close. Finally, they stopped in a grand, museum-like hallway.
"We're here," the girl said, pointing to a massive oak door.
Elijah knocked.
"Come in!" a voice called.
Inside, the room was vast, lined with bookshelves crammed with volumes of all sizes. The Pope sat at a desk, a fountain pen in his hand. He set it down as Elijah entered.
"So, why did you call me here?" Elijah asked.
The Pope gestured to a chair. "You were allowed to stay by Mars's grace. I wished to discuss that."
Elijah sat, uneasy.
"What brought you here?" the Pope asked calmly.
Elijah's eyes darted around. (What do I even say? 'Hey, I'm not from this world, got stuck in this body, was attacked by a monster, then tortured and killed'? No way he'd believe that.)
He took a deep breath, lowering his face to hide his expression.
Before the Pope could press further, Elijah spoke. "Before I came here, I was just sleeping in my apartment. Then I heard a knock—unexpected, since my roommate has a key. Something felt off, so I jumped out the window and ran."
The Pope's face paled as if hearing of a death. "A-Are you sure you weren't hurt from the fall?"
Elijah grinned. "It wasn't that high. I'm fine."
The Pope sighed in relief, then asked, "When did you graduate?"
Elijah stiffened. (How do I answer that?)
A memory fragment surfaced—a black gown, a blue hat, the symbol of knowledge on his breast, and a date on a mirror: December 20, 1429.
"I graduated three months ago," he said carefully.