The air of peace and truth that had started collecting around me stilled. Yes, what of my baby? Didn’t I have an obligation to fear for my unborn child?

Tanner and Marshall ushered me in through the double doors of the Chapel, and the eyes of the Holy Family shifted to stare at me. Some of them looked sad. Others looked as though they pitied me. Who wouldn’t, after what I’d suffered? After what my mother had suffered?

Most watched me with uncertain, shifting eyes. I felt sorry for them. They were only slaves to what they’d been told and believed, like all in the world. And I saw in their eyes the power that the whole world, regardless of creed or religion, had bound itself to.

Fear.

I remembered standing on the mountain with Eli beside me, looking down on this city and seeing it drenched in thick darkness. Fear tucked into every nook and cranny, every corner, every plank of wood.

Fear.

Fear.

Fear.

Jamie caught my eye as they led me up the center aisle. He showed no emotion. Whatever had happened to him on the mountain had changed him. But I already knew what had happened to him. He’d been filled with more fear than he’d ever known, and that fear was manifesting as anger, because anger was just another form of fear. A reaction against the fear of loss.

Andrew sat two seats over from Jamie, watching me with a pitying frown. He was fearing for both me and how my fate would reflect on him.

The children were looking at me with round eyes, fearing the unknown.

Colin, the most vocal of the council members, scowled, fearing that what he disapproved of would be allowed and bring harm.

Everywhere I looked now, all I saw was fear. All darkness was fear, and much of what my religion had taught me was based in that fear. How could we all have missed such an obvious observation?

But I didn’t blame them. I was in fear as well. It was as if we were all in a storm and we were all cowering, trying to be saved by giving in to the demands of fear. But now I knew: whatever was done in fear only created more fear.

Rose pointed to the top of the stage, and I obediently climbed the steps and faced the crowd, alone and high for all to see. She looked up at me, mouth set in a hard line. Fear.

“Today you confess your sins and deny the boy’s heresy before the church in a display of repentance. In doing so you take the first step to finding forgiveness. Do you understand the deception you’ve allowed to threaten God’s elect?”

This was it. It all came down to this moment. And I was trembling.