Prayer and Contemplation [St. Basil's Cathedral]

[Matías]

When she thanked him, the words rang genuine. He nodded once in acknowledgment. When she said his name again, there was something final in it. Not the kind of finality that closed a door, but the kind that marked a moment. He could tell she'd decided he wasn’t a threat. Or at least not her threat.

“I will,” he said quietly. “I’ll pray for him.”

She genuflected before the altar, crossing herself with the sure movements of someone still learning the shape of reverence but carrying it with conviction. He watched her silently, unmoving, until she turned back with a faint smile that didn't match the ones she'd given before.

There was something hidden in it. Part mischief but also part wisdom. Then her voice, low and certain. Splash isn't a dog. When you need truth, seek Oracle. And then she was gone.

Matias stayed seated, one hand loosely holding the edge of the pew, the other brushing the small crucifix beneath his shirt. The silence she left behind wasn’t empty. It hummed with questions. Her presence had been young, yes, but not small. And the words she left behind wasn’t the tone of a child playing with riddles. It was something heavier.

He glanced to where she and the animal had stood. Splash… not a dog. It hadn’t acted like one, not entirely. The eyes, the silence, the stillness—there had been something behind those movements. He couldn’t name it, but he’d felt it. And then there was that last word. Oracle.

He repeated it once in his mind, turning it over like a smooth stone pocketed on instinct. Not a name he recognized. Not from the streets. Not from the old world of cartels or codes. But it stuck. Something about it told him he’d hear it again.

Matias rose slowly, his coat settling against him as he stood. He gave one final glance to the crucifix. The same one the girl had stared at as if it might speak from on high, and inclined his head slightly. It wasn’t prayer. It was something like respect.

Then he turned and stepped deeper into the cathedral, leaving the small chapel behind. There were still icons to study. Chapels to pass through. Quiet places to weigh things too old for words. But even as the cathedral folded around him, cool and labyrinthine, he carried with him the strange weight of the girl and her not-dog.