A mass.

Chapter 5: Fall from Grace

“Why are we here again?” Garrett muttered under his breath, trying not to attract the irritated glances of the people around us.

I kept my head bowed and cracked one eye open, pretending to pray like everyone else. Father Jeremiah stood behind the credence table, conducting the mass with solemn precision before tonight’s town celebration.

The church was exactly what you would expect from an old rural town, hardwood beams, carved pews polished by decades of hands, and stained-glass windows depicting saints whose names most of us barely remembered. Sunlight filtered through the colored glass and spilled across the altar, bathing Jeremiah in a soft golden glow that made him look almost sanctified.

“Because we were invited,” I whispered back. “We’re trying to maintain a decent reputation, remember?”

Garrett sighed. “I know. But why are we pretending to pray?”

“So we’re not disrespectful.”

“Could you two idiots shut up?” Priya hissed without opening her eyes.

“I can’t believe you wanted to come to this,” Garrett grumbled. “It’s so. Fucking. Boring.”
A sharp shush came from the pew behind us.
“Sorry,” he muttered, lowering his voice even further.

Priya exhaled through her nose. “I just want some normalcy in our lives. And this helps. Besides… someone has to keep Dad’s beliefs alive.”

That shut Garrett up immediately.

He bowed his head again, returning to his fake prayer. I did the same.

He owed his father that much.
____
Fifteen minutes later, we returned to our seats after communion. That was when I noticed him.

A tall hooded figure moved with deliberate silence at Jeremiah’s side, carrying the ceremonial tools needed to conclude the mass. His steps were measured, too measured. Not stiff, but controlled, like someone constantly aware of being watched.
His face remained hidden beneath the hood. But for a fleeting second, when the sunlight shifted, I saw it.

A thin glint beneath the fabric, Metal. A partial mask, smooth and pale, catching the light before disappearing again into shadow.

My stomach tightened; it wasn’t the mask itself that unsettled me. It was how perfectly still he stood afterward.

He mirrored Jeremiah’s movements subtly; not exaggerated, not obvious, but aligned. When Jeremiah turned a page, he adjusted his stance. When Jeremiah lifted the chalice, the hooded man inclined his head a fraction of a second later.
Not devotion, Synchronization. The kind that felt practiced and disciplined…Cult-like.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe Douglas had simply trained me too well to distrust what I didn’t understand. I hated that about myself sometimes, the constant search for the crack beneath the surface.

Still…The metallic glint lingered in my mind.

Jeremiah raised the chalice, his voice carried effortlessly through the wooden hall.

Before dismissing the congregation, he lifted a hand; Gentle, commanding and the murmur of shifting bodies stilled.

“My children,” he began, his tone warm, almost fatherly, “in times of uncertainty, we are tempted to fracture… to turn inward… to forget one another.”

The silence stretched, not awkward, but deliberate.
“But faith,” he continued softly, “is not meant to be practiced alone. It is meant to bind. To anchor. To remind us that even when storms attempt to swallow us, we are not abandoned.”

Several heads bowed deeper.

He stepped forward slightly, the golden light catching the edges of his face.

“This town has endured much. Trials sent to test us. Temptations placed at our doorstep. Floods of corruption meant to wash away what we have built.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the pews.
“But we remain,” he said, voice strengthening. “Because we did not bend. Because we did not yield.”

“Amen,” someone whispered.

Jeremiah let that affirmation breathe before continuing.

“And tonight, as we gather in celebration, remember this, joy is not weakness. Unity is not softness. Mercy does not mean the absence of justice.”

His gaze swept across the congregation.

“Penance will be cast upon the unfaithful and the wicked.”

The words were spoken gently, too gently.

Nor a threat nor anger.

It was Certainty.

My brow twitched faintly, but I didn’t immediately react. Around me, people nodded. Some even smiled faintly, as if reassured.

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t glare.

He simply let the statement exist.

“As long as we remain steadfast,” he continued, softer now, “judgment will never fall upon us. For the Lord heals those who confess… restores those who kneel… and renews those who surrender...”

The crowd absorbed every word.

“To God,” Jeremiah finished.

“To God!” the congregation roared.

And just like that, the edge in his words dissolved into applause and communal comfort.

If there had been a blade hidden in that message…It was wrapped in velvet.

When the mass concluded and the pews began to empty, I approached him.

“Ah. Young Nathaniel,” Jeremiah said warmly. “I wasn’t certain you would join us this morning.”

“Not exactly my scene, Father,” I replied with a polite smile. “But it felt appropriate after your invitation.”

He nodded, pleased. The hooded man stood behind him again, Always Silent always watching. Up close, I could see nothing of his face beneath the hood. No eyes. No skin. Just shadow And the faint outline of something rigid beneath it.

“I’m grateful for your presence,” Jeremiah said.

“Will you be attending the celebration tonight?” I asked casually.

“Most likely. Where the town gathers, faith must also be present.”

“Prayer at a party?” I smirked. “That’ll be a first for me.”

Jeremiah chuckled lightly. “In Wingston, God is not confined to walls.”

I hesitated before speaking again. “You mentioned something earlier… about penance.”

“Yes?”

“It sounded…” I searched for the right word.
“Definitive.”

He studied me for a solid second, not offended only interested. “As it should,” he replied.

“For whom?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

His fingers brushed the cover of the Bible resting on the podium.

“There has been a shadow over this town for some time, Nathaniel,” he said calmly. “Ever since powder and fire found their way into our homes. They promise protection… but they bring fear. Division. Pride.”

He wasn’t speaking loudly, But each word landed carefully.

“You think celebration is sinful?” I asked.

“I think indulgence without accountability is dangerous,” he answered smoothly. “And sins and sinners, left unchecked, invites correction. There is much of it I’m afraid, although It’s blurry for us.”

I held his gaze.

“So, this penance,” I said slowly, “is divine?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“All justice is.”

“Do you always speak in riddles, Jeremiah?” I asked quietly. “Or are you trying to say something without saying it?”

His laugh echoed softly in the nearly empty church. The sunlight streaming through the stained glass no longer felt warm.

“I never hide truth in the house of God,” he said.

____

I left the church shortly after my conversation with Jeremiah. A strange, bitter aftertaste lingered in my mouth. Not fear exactly, not even suspicion. Just… something unsettled.

I told myself I was overthinking it; I usually was.

“Didn’t take you for the preaching type.”

The voice was calm, teasing and familiar.

Sandy leaned against the outer stone wall of the church, one boot pressed to the surface, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The afternoon light caught in her hair, giving her an almost deceptive softness.

“Didn’t take you for the stalking type,” I shot back. “Were you eavesdropping?”

She pushed off the wall. “No. I just saw you walking in earlier with the others.”

“And that caught your attention?”

A small hum. “Yeah. It did.”

I stepped down the church stairs, hands in my pockets. “I didn’t know you cared about my spiritual journey.”

She snorted. “Please. You know it’s fake as hell, right? If you want good standing with these people, just kiss ass or bring back useful supplies from raids. That’s how it works.”

“And I’m the fake one,” I replied with a low chuckle. “I thought you were from here.”

She stiffened.

“It’s obvious I’m not,” she said. “I don’t fit in. Most people in Wingston have never faced a walker alone. Let alone another human in the wild.”
There it was, The edge.

“So, what were you?” I asked casually, crossing my arms. “Someone looking for shelter? A scavenger who got tired of running?”

Her gaze dropped to the ground. For a second, the sharpness faded.

“Someone who needed peace,” she answered quietly.

She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she lifted her chin. “You coming tonight?”

Nice deflection.

“I am,” I said. “I figured you’d skip it. You strike me as the lone-wolf type.”

She rolled her eyes. “I promised Miri I’d help her with preparations. And since I’ll already be there… might as well pretend to socialize.”

Miri…. My grin widened before I could stop it.

“Miri?” I repeated. “As in Mirabelle?”

She blinked. Damn. She hadn’t meant to say it.

“That’s… cute,” I added lightly.

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

“Shut up.”

I laughed softly. “Didn’t think you did nicknames.”

“Ugh. Don’t make it weird.” She turned away. “It slipped.”

That was interesting.

She pretended not to belong here. Pretended she didn’t care, but you don’t give someone a nickname if you’re planning on leaving.

And Mirabelle… Mirabelle carried warmth like it was stitched into her bones. She made people feel safe without trying. Effortless light.

Sandy wasn’t light, she was fire held under control.

Mirabelle made you want to rest.

Sandy made you want to lean closer.

Different pulls, both tempting in their own way.
“See you later, asshole,” Sandy muttered, already walking off. She stomped a little harder than necessary.

“You said ‘see you later,’” I called after her. “That sounds like a promise.”

She flipped me off without turning around.

I couldn’t help smiling.

Yeah, She definitely liked my company.

---

I made my way downtown after leaving Sandy, deciding to explore a little and clear my head.
From a distance, I saw Mirabelle weaving through the street crowd, scanning faces. When her eyes landed on me, they lit up immediately. She raised her arm and waved enthusiastically.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

She stopped in front of me, slightly out of breath but smiling that same bright, effortless smile she always wore like second nature.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Uh… at the church mass,” I answered, confused by her urgency.

She blinked. “Wha—why?”

Now I was the confused one. “What do you mean, why? Everyone in town went.”

She stared at me for a full second, then she burst into laughter. A full, head-tilted-back laughter that echoed down the street.

My expression must’ve been priceless because she laughed even harder, clutching her stomach.

“Oh my God,” she managed between breaths. “You’re serious?”

“…I don’t see what’s so funny,” I muttered.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, trying to regain control. “Okay, okay. I’m good. I’m good.” She inhaled deeply. “Fuck me, that was funny.”

I crossed my arms. “Glad I could provide entertainment.”

She raised one finger, grinning. “First of all, that’s adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes. Adorable. Also, extremely bootlicker behaviour,” she added cheerfully. “Just be yourself, idiot. People here don’t really care what you do unless you’re genuine. I tried telling Sandy but she just doesn’t listen to me”

“God, is everyone going to laugh at me today?” I thought. “I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“You’re thinking you’re an idiot right now,” she said confidently.

I blinked.

“…which, for the record, is correct.”

Shit. She’s good.

“But,” she added more softly, “you care. And that’s rare. So yeah, idiotic. But cute.”

The way she said it didn’t feel like teasing, it felt honest.

I found myself smiling despite my pride being bruised.

“I actually expected you to be there,” I admitted.

“Why?” she asked immediately. “I’m not religious. And masses are painfully boring.” She exaggerated the word boring dramatically. “I respect Jeremiah for holding onto faith after everything that’s happened… but I don’t exactly jam with it.”

I nodded. That felt genuine.

“So,” I said, steering the conversation back, “you were looking for me. Nothing’s wrong with the event, right?”

“What? No, no, everything’s running perfectly.” She placed a hand over her chest in mock offense. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Your words wound me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright. Sorry.”

“Damn right you are. I’ve been organizing town events since I was sixteen. Respect my craft.”
She shifted instantly into a mock-authoritative stance, hands on hips, chin raised.

Then she broke into laughter again, She really enjoyed this.

And I realized something, she didn’t just like talking. She liked making people feel lighter.

“So?” I prompted gently.

“Oh, right.” She snapped back into focus. “Gavin was looking for you and Sandy. I already told her, so now I’m delivering the message to you.”

She paused.

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t even thank you yet.”

“I know. I’m pre-thanking myself.”

That made me chuckle. Her grin softened just slightly at that, like she genuinely liked that she’d pulled that reaction from me.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll head there in a bit. But actually… I needed to ask you something.”

She tilted her head, curious. “Yeah?”

“I need a new close-combat weapon. I lost my knife on day zero, and the one I’ve been using since is garbage.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “Oh, that’s easy.”

“Easy?”

“Did you pass by Second Street? There’s a building with a rounded roof. Looks like there’s a furnace inside.”

“Yeah. Big sheet metal door?”

“That’s the one. Wayland’s workshop. He’s, our blacksmith.”

That caught my attention. “We have a blacksmith?”

“We have a lot of things you haven’t discovered yet,” she said smugly. “These days he mostly makes tools. Weapons only with Gavin’s approval. We don’t exactly encourage people walking around with blades or blunt weapons unless there’s a reason.”

“And you think he’ll help me?”

She smiled knowingly. “He’s bored out of his mind. And you’re new. New equals interesting.”

I considered it. “Would you… come with me?”
The question seemed to catch her off guard.

“I mean,” I continued, “it might help if someone people trust vouches for me.”

A faint blush dusted her cheeks before she masked it with a quick shake of her head.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

She cleared her throat quickly. “But Gavin first. I don’t like keeping Captain Kirk waiting.”
I blinked.

“Wow. That’s an ancient reference.”

She gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? It’s classic.”

“It’s nerdy.”

“Shut up.”

She nudged my shoulder as she began walking, laughing.