The cathedral is built in the early gothic architectural style, with a tower and spires looming over the street below. Inside, the space is filled with rich, polished wood, ornate tapestries, and stained glass. It is dark without natural lighting, and tonight, it is only illuminated by the flickering candles lining the entryway and the aisle.

While the church's designated members finish making their preparations for the ceremony, I find solitude in the small chapel attached to the choir on the eastern side of the cathedral. I have grown so accustomed to being alone with my thoughts that this last week has completely taken me out of my element.

I am in need of silence, and I locate it in the shadows of the confessional reserved for more private occasions. Finding sanctuary on the wooden bench inside, I shut the door and close my eyes. The space smells of wood polish and incense, a scent that often pervaded my childhood memories. It would be fair to say I was raised within the confines of Catholic institutions, with only my summers spent at home. At least until I reached an age when it was appropriate for my father to begin molding me into the man he wanted me to be. He was not pleased to discover that my real talent was in mathematics. It seemed like such a waste to him. Though the upper-echelon members of IVI all agreed it would be a useful skill that could be well-honed, I have never been able to forget the hollow disappointment in my father’s eyes.

From the beginning, his expectations for me were heavy. I did not act as children should. There was no mischievous innocence to be found in his firstborn son. I was always serious, always studious. I respected his wishes and followed them to his exacting standards. By all accounts, even my own mother’s, it should have pleased him. But he found fault in the strange emptiness within my eyes, even as he demanded the very same. I had heard him observe more than once how cold I was, and it was the only thing that seemed to bring even a hint of agreement to his hard features. If ever I did feel a flicker of emotion, a glimpse of my own humanity, I would swiftly dispose of it and forget the event had ever occurred.