The curtains snapped back and a windowful of sunlight hit Indenuel straight in the face. He let out a groan and burrowed deeper into his pillow.

“May God bless you on this Sabbath day, Indenuel,” Pablo said.

“May God bless you on this Sabbath day,” he said into the pillow, which made it incomprehensible. He wanted more sleep. If it wasn’t for the servants helping him get undressed last night, he would have fallen asleep in his ridiculously wealthy ceremonial clothes. At first he resisted, figuring he could undress and dress himself, but honestly, he didn’t even remember hitting the bed.

“As the Warrior, you will be expected to arrive at a reasonable time to the Cathedral for Sabbath worship. Shall I have the servants dress you?”

Indenuel grunted, which Pablo took as affirmation. At least all the servants were men. He was half awake and half-dressed when Tolomon came in, awake and already dressed for the service, looking as refreshed as any other day. Indenuel wanted to ask, but was too exhausted to get the full sentence out. “How? How?”

Tolomon smiled. “I’ve learned to adapt to less sleep.”

Indenuel rubbed his face, trying to wake up, but it was impossible.

“As soon as your meditation at the Cathedral is done, sir, you can go to the social and request some strong tea and an assortment of refreshments. That should help you wake up in no time,” Pablo said.

More sleep would help him wake up better, but he wasn’t about to suggest it. The servants finished dressing him, backing away and bowing. “Thank you.”

They rode in the carriage, Indenuel continually rubbing his face, trying to wake up.

“Are you going to be alright?” Tolomon asked.

“Can people sleep through meditation?” Indenuel asked.

“As long as you don’t snore, you might be able to pass it off.”

“Perfect.” He had to make it to meditation, then he could take a nap.

“Wait. No. You’ll be in the meditation room with the High Elders. You’re never going to pull that off.”

Indenuel let out a groan. No nap to power him through the social gathering after worship services. His shoulders sagged at the thought of it. This was going to be a long Sabbath day.

They arrived at the Cathedral, and he put on a smile, trying desperately to not yawn. The nobility surrounded him again, all talking at once. His palms shaking as he took a step back. Tolomon took his wrist, asking the nobility to step back, saying they could socialize with him after services and drug him out of the circle.

“I am in your debt,” Indenuel said.

“Simply doing my duty,” Tolomon said, guiding him to his spot in the front row of the Cathedral. He thought he’d never get over the beauty of the Cathedral, but now all he wanted to do was nap.

The five High Elders came out of their meditation room, and those in the worship hall settled in for the service. Indenuel thought he was doing well. The music the choir began with was loud and uplifting, which helped him wake up. There was something about the Cathedral, it amplified the music. He had no musical skill, but he couldn’t deny the song was beautiful.

Navir stood up before going to the stand, smiling. Indenuel waited, not sure what to expect. Once he began his sermon, Indenuel’s face fell. He had been used to Martin’s sermons, where it was like sitting at his feet and listening to doctrine. Navir’s sermon felt more like a lecture. A lecture of the history of religion. And it was dull.

There were a lot of names and dates, and he was losing track of all of them. Navir’s old, dry voice was somehow grating and reinforcing how much Indenuel needed to sleep.

His head bobbed, and he gasped, not realizing how close he was to sleeping. He straightened in his chair, rubbing his eyes again, focusing on Navir. His eyes instead fell on Cristoval, who’s mouth was already open, his head to one side, soft snores emanating from him.

Lucky, Indenuel thought.

Navir dumped a lot of other names and dates on the congregation that Indenuel already forgot about. Every time Indenuel blinked, it was getting that much harder to open them back up again. His eyes felt like they were being stabbed with a thousand needles, demanding the protection of his lids.

The room was empty. Except it wasn’t a room. Yet somehow a room? It was white, but enclosed, and full of fog. It didn’t feel cold, or warm. It didn’t feel like anything. It was a dream. One of those dreams. One brought about by his power. Someone from the other side wanted to talk to him.

He allowed himself to go into a deeper sleep. The fog began to lessen, and he heard voices, whispering.

“Hello?” A part of him hoped his power was strong enough that Lucia would come, but he’d have to be careful. If he did see Lucia, it was more likely to be a demon in disguise. Though he was in the Cathedral. That had to offer him protection from demonic visitors. He remembered the shield protecting him from the demons when he was testing with Cristoval. He was pretty sure he was safe from demonic entities, but he still had to keep his guard up. “Hello?”

Indenuel lifted a hand, trying to brush the fog away as he tried to see someone, anyone, in this strange place. There was a figure ahead, and he approached cautiously. The figure of a man solidified. Though he looked solid, Indenuel could walk right through him if he wanted to. The spirits here were made of a difference substance.

The man turned sharply, and Indenuel took a few steps back in surprise as he saw the man’s pale blue eyes.

“No,” the man whispered.

Indenuel raised a hand to defend himself if he needed to, even though the man could never actually hurt him in this plane of existence. “Who are you?”

The man’s eyes were still wide, staring at Indenuel.

“Can… can you understand me?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes,” the man said softly. “Yes I can.”

Indenuel had heard this plane of existence could translate any language, but he couldn’t remember the last person of a different race he’d talked to here. Not a lot of people came to visit him. No one in his village even knew he had this power.

The man was about ten years older than Indenuel, but everyone in the next life looked about thirty years old, so it made little difference.

“Did you just die?” Indenuel asked. “Are you alright? Do you need me to send a message to anyone?”

“No, no. I… I was…” the man looked like he was suffering from a terrible shock but was slowly coming to terms with it. “I have so many questions for you.”

“For me?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes. The spirits saw you be presented at the Cathedral, then again at the palace, and word spread to those of us who’d never been there before,” the man said. “I… I recognized the name. Lucia.” Every part of Indenuel’s body froze as the man gave a shy smile. “I… more than remember her name. She never said anything had come of our… she disappeared soon after before I could…” Indenuel slowly lowered his arm, his breathing turning unsteady. “And then I tried to channel through to you. To come and… use the power usually meant for relatives, see when you would fall asleep, and… and here I am. In… in your dream. As… a relative.”

Indenuel let out a shaky breath. “Are you…”

“I’m Garen. Garen of Rabikama. It’s… it’s the Oraminian way to introduce yourself. Your birthplace instead of your parent’s name.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “I'm sorry. I'm... I tend to say whatever comes to my mind when I’m nervous.” He ran a hand through his black hair.

“Yeah,” Indenuel said, the terror starting to grow. “Yeah, me too.”

“And Lucia? She… she never mentioned me?”

Indenuel’s eyes were wide as he stared at Garen. At this Oraminian. At… “She never mentioned a thing about…”

“Never talked about your father?” Garen asked, his voice quiet.

The room began to darken. His terror was causing him to wake up. “No, wait. Wait, I can’t-”

“It’s alright. I promise. Now… now that I know…”

“I have so many questions! Stay asleep!” Indenuel ordered his body.

“I’m not very strong with this power, but I can try later! I will see you again! I promise!”

“Shit!” Indenuel said as he sat up straight in the pew.

Tolomon turned his head, a humorous smile on his face. Indenuel covered his mouth, wincing as he glanced at the people nearest to him. He got a few dirty looks, but Navir kept talking as though he hadn’t heard.

“You alright?” Tolomon whispered.

Indenuel nodded, situating himself better on the pew. It took a while for one lady to stop glaring at him. Sleep was far from his mind now. He stared at the floor in front of him, still covering his mouth, trying to process what happened. Indenuel always assumed his father was still alive because he never visited his dreams. The man seemed genuine. So surprised. It seemed like Lucia not only kept Indenuel from his father, but also didn’t tell the father what had happened. His father. Garen. An Oraminian.

He was beginning to understand why Lucia wanted to keep him a secret.

But the War of Four Nations had been over for almost ten years. Indenuel was getting older. They could have had that conversation. She could have told him why she chose to start a relationship with an Oraminian. He wouldn’t have judged her. He loved her.

He realized the situation this placed him in. Despite everything, despite falling asleep in the Cathedral of the Savior’s Coming, surrounded by the goodness and protection of the Savior, there still could have been a way a demon could have snuck in. He still could be tricked. He couldn’t visit Lucia for another long while yet, so he had no one to verify the man’s story. A demon couldn’t keep pretending for long. Eventually a demon would trip up. He would just keep visiting with Garen, keep talking with him, see if he was genuine, or if it was something else entirely.

Indenuel ignored the rest of the sermon, his mind alive with this new revelation. He sat, coming to terms with everything. If he was part Oraminian, it was a miracle he had the green eyes of the Santollians. A lot of his facial features and skin tone came from his mother, so he couldn’t readily assume he was part Oraminian, but snippets of memories came back to him. Lucia admitting that her grandfather was Oraminian, and therefore the reason why he had a longer, more Oramin type nose. His temper, which Lucia often attributed to her grandfather, but might have been Oraminian in nature. And the quiet Oraminian lullaby she used to sing, one she couldn’t translate because she never bothered to ask her grandfather what it all meant before he died. Some of that might have been his great-grandfather, but what if it was something else?

He rose after the sermon and followed the other High Elders into the meditation room. Despite the whirlwind of information he received in a short span of time, it was strangely comforting to feel pieces of the puzzle come together. If it was true, part of his questions were answered. Lucia didn’t want Indenuel’s heritage to come out. There would have been hell to pay in Mountain Pass if they figured out he was part Oraminian. He’d have not only been a bastard child, but part of the enemy too. Lucia was only trying to protect him. She must have had her reasons from keeping it from Indenuel, too.

Indenuel glanced around at the High Elders. Tolomon was on the other side of the door, guarding it. The other High Elders were all meditating except Cristoval, who was still asleep. How would the High Elders react? What would they think of Indenuel possibly being part Oraminian? They, who were old enough to not only experience the War of Four Nations but had been in the thick of it politically.

The meditation time was over, and Fadrique quietly left the room first, with Dalius pushing Cristoval, who was finally waking up from his own nap. Navir patted Martin’s shoulder before leaving.

“Are you alright, my boy?” Martin asked.

“I’m…” Indenuel let the thought linger. He could tell Martin. Confide in him. Test out his reaction to what he had just discovered, but he couldn’t do it. Martin was a High Elder, and he would certainly tell the other High Elders. If Martin heard, the others would too. That was clear enough when he talked about the gossip about Lucia from Mountain Pass. “Tired. I’m just tired,” he finished. “It was a long night last night.”

Martin patted Indenuel’s knee before he stood. “If you’d like, I can give excuses for you.”

His nerves stilled. “You mean…”

“Go home and rest. You look like you need it,” Martin said.

He sighed. “Thank you.”

Martin smiled as he left the meditation room. Indenuel leaned his head against the wall. Something good had come of this. He stood, leaving the meditation room as Tolomon followed behind.

“I need to sleep. Martin will tell the others,” Indenuel said.

“Nice to have such powerful friends.”

He said nothing. He considered telling Tolomon, but again, he hesitated. Maybe he’d wait until he’d visited with Garen again. Got to know him more. Understood more why Lucia lied to both of them and start figuring out whether or not Garen could be trusted. He wasn’t super familiar with this aspect of his power. He didn’t know when Garen would return, but he did know two visitations in one day was unheard of.

Once Indenuel was home and had something to eat, he tried everything he could to replicate the sleep needed for visitors to come. He lit some incense to welcome the good spirits, kept a small window open. If he had something from his father, even a scrap of shirt or a memento, he would have kept it near the incense, but he had nothing.

As he suspected, Garen didn’t come again, but he did need the sleep.