Temple

"Sebastian," Asterias asked, fingers treading upon the delicate silk as the blonde looked up. The mage was a genius, a magical genius who seemed to excel at everything. Yet, as he looked over the small cauldron in front of him, Asterias wondered what he was brewing.

"Yes," he queried, running his fingers through his tresses. Sebastian, whenever Asterias had come over, had been working on a single them. He had never been into alchemy, Lumielle was the only person who succeeded at it.

"Do you know anything about the Church?"

"Wishing to repent after all the stress you've given me?" Sebastian asked.

Asterias simply smiled, "Does that mean you do?"

"The Church isn't someone you should mess with," Sebastian warned, dropping some bright green fluid into the bubbling pot before waving his hand.

Everyone kept saying that. Asterias knew that the Church was not an enemy that wished to be made.