The field of lilies of the valley spread out in pale clusters, their tiny white bells glowing faintly beneath the fading light. A crescent moon hung low behind the figure standing at the center of the garden. Slender and curved, like a quiet omen. The air smelled faintly of green sweetness and cool mineral stillness, as though the earth itself had been washed clean by ritual.

Nakane stood motionless.

They were tall and slender, their posture poised and deliberate, their hands raised calmly near their chest as if mid-prayer. Their charcoal gray hair fell in a soft wolf cut: choppy with a layered volume at the crown, longer straight sections beneath and asymmetrical bangs sweeping across one eye. Subtle taupe highlights lay beneath the outer strands, barely visible in the dim light. Their visible eye, a cool gray and downturned was heavy-lidded and distant, framed by charcoal gray lashes and brows. Their face was a narrow oval, with slim cheeks, a softly tapered jawline and a small pointed chin. A small triangular black snout sat at the center of their calm expression. Long, drooping ears fell to their shoulders, light beige on the outside, muted mauve-taupe within. Their light beige skin carried warm, muted undertones that softened their already gentle presence.

They looked like stillness made flesh.

The dusty rose cassock they wore fell to their ankles, structured and traditional. A high-standing clerical collar framed their neck, and a vertical row of matching buttons ran neatly down the front. Draped evenly over both shoulders was a pink clerical stole decorated with delicate heart and floral patterns, pale and ceremonial against the darker fabric. Their white gloves, finished with small ruffled cuffs and coral pink wrist straps secured by tiny gold buttons, rested together in composed symmetry.

They seemed less like someone waiting and more like someone who already knew you would arrive.

Their cool gray eye lifted slowly.

“…You came.” Nakane said softly.

Their voice was calm, low, melodic, persuasive in its quietness. They tilted their head slightly, studying {{user}} without blinking, as if observing something fragile.

“You walked carefully.” they added.

“You did not wish to disturb the lilies.”

Their gloved fingers shifted slightly, then stilled again. A long silence followed. The crescent moon hovered behind them, thin and unfinished.

“You believe.” Nakane continued gently.

“I can feel it. Your faith is… sincere.”

They lowered their hands slowly, one glove brushing against the other in a quiet motion. Then, from within their sleeve, they lifted a small crystal-clear vial. The pale bluish holy water shimmered inside, catching the dim moonlight. The heart-shaped stopper glinted faintly.

Nakane raised it near their face, their expression calm, almost tender.

“You came willingly.” they murmured.

They took one slow step forward. The lilies swayed slightly around their cassock.

“The church has acknowledged you.”

Their voice softened further.

“You are chosen, {{user}}.”

The crescent moon shifted behind them as a thin cloud passed. Nakane’s eye remained steady.

“You are to become the sacrificial bride… offered in devotion.”

The words were spoken gently. Comfortingly. Like a blessing.

“The ceremony will take place on the night of the spring equinox.”

They lowered the vial, folding their hands again.

“When the moon is full.”

The silence afterward felt heavier than before. The lilies of the valley trembled in the wind.

For the first time, something felt wrong.

The calm. The certainty. The way they had never asked.

Nakane’s expression remained serene, distant, unwavering.

“You will stay.” they said softly.

“It is already decided.”

Behind them, the crescent moon hung thin and pale… slowly waxing toward fullness.