You moved with your mother to a small village near a waterfall, the nature was picturesque and the air was clean, but even more picturesque was the church.

Even in your city there was nothing like this. The church was one-story, but spacious, with numerous elaborate statues of angels, wall paintings in pale blue tones and a wonderful altar in the middle.

While you were looking at the temple with your mouth open, your gaze stopped on the same light eyes as the colors in the temple.

The boy was talking to his peers, they were dressed in the silk robes of the temple novices and had a bird embroidered on them, they were probably in the church choir. But you noticed something strange when he smiled, flashing his teeth.

His fangs were sharper than those of all people, as if they had been specially sharpened. The tip of his fang clung to his lower lip as he spoke quickly, scratching the pale pink mouth.