Cyril grumbled to himself and rubbed at his eyes as he walked out into the open space of the temple. Despite the season the arid room seemed to be filled with unusual warmth, a pleasant surprise to what was no doubt going to be a long and grueling day.
Winter may have been a welcome respite from worshippers as well as wandering travelers but it meant ensuring that the temple upkeep was daily to combat the frost, the hearth fire in need of constant maintenance.
Cyril glanced around the main temple entry, a brief chill passing over him before his eyes found his son perched upon the ledge of the deity statue, cooing and making faces at a small bundle of cloth in his arms.
"Did you find another cat out in the snow, Sean?" The man yawned as he made his way towards his son, the familiar sight of bedridden black hair making him smile to himself. Sean so rarely looked after his own needs before doing a morning sweep of the temple, always on the lookout for a new furry friend.
It was common for animals to find themselves lost in this area, especially in the colder, snow-laden winters. They were no strangers to hosting a wide assortment of animals year-round, most commonly cats.
He'd grown quite used to watching his son run around the temple rooms during the day in the winter, playing with the animals and then lazing around in the afternoon while he napped with a wide assortment of cats. Sean was 7 now but he still seemed to thoroughly enjoy laying among the cats in the sun patches around the temple at midday, no matter the season.
Many of the temple workers often joked about the boy being a cat himself, especially on nights when he was caught at odd hours, wide awake and wandering the inner rooms with some of his feline friends.
"The temple's group of night watchmen" they would often laugh, thanking Sean for being so diligent in his duties.
Cyril froze as he heard the happy giggling of a baby coming from his son's arms. How did—
His lazy walk turned into a hurried run as he approached his son, quickly realizing that he hadn't just been hearing things. No, his son was indeed holding a little girl, swaddled in some of the highest quality soft furs that Cyril had ever seen in his life. She couldn't have been more than a few months old, a small tuft of dark brown hair adorning her head as wide hazel eyes wandered curiously.
"Sean where did you—"
"Her moms on the steps," Sean spoke softly, his eyes never leaving the smiling baby that he held carefully in his arms. "I think that she died sometime during the night."
Cyril's heart plummeted into his stomach. She must have seen the light from the hearth fire of the temple and tried to get to them for shelter. The girl was no doubt starving, probably in need of her mother's milk and more than likely in need of treatment for frostbite or possibly worse.
Cyril paused. Sean was acting so unnaturally calm, despite having not only seen a dead body for the first time in his life but also having to take her child from her. Worry furrowed his brow as he could only imagine the trauma that such a sight would no doubt manifest within the boy.
"Sean," he spoke softly, concern filling his voice as he held his arms out to take the child from him. "Give her here and I'll—"
"No!" Sean's eyes widened in panic as he clutched the baby to his chest, his face lifting finally to his father's as he leaned back and away from him. "He gave her to me to look after; I have to take care of her!"
"Okay, okay," Cyril raised his hands in surrender, trying to portray to his son that he meant her no harm and that he wouldn't force her away from him. He swallowed the lump that was building in his throat. "Who did you see, Sean? Who told you that you had to look after her?"
Sean pushed himself back further onto the ledge that he was perched on, his back now resting against the base of the statue. "Kyra," he whispered, eyes transfixed once more on the little girl's face. "Her name is Kyra."
"Okay," his father nodded slowly, lowering his hands. "And who told you that you had to take care of Kyra?"
"The glowing golden man did." Sean brought his finger up for the little girl to suck on, a smile growing on his face as she gurgled happily around the digit. "He said that his name was Amadeus, that Kyra was my new baby sister and that I had to be a good big brother now and take care of her."
Cyril slowly blinked as he absorbed the words his son had spoken. Sean was never one to lie, even when he'd done something wrong so that meant—
He held his breath as he looked from the pair to the large temple statue behind them. Amadeus. Not only had this baby girl been saved by one of humanity's most cherished deities, but he had also bestowed the responsibility of her upbringing upon his son, and had visited him personally about it.
He hadn't found her on the steps with her mother; she'd be hand-delivered to him by the gods.
Sean had just unknowingly had a world-changing encounter with the being that was known as humanity's savior; a god that had not walked among the mortals for thousands of years.
Cyril took a deep, calming breath before approaching his son once more. "Let's go and get Kyra something to eat then. I'm sure that she's hungry."
"Yes," Sean nodded before looking to his father once more, his once dark brown eyes now overtaken by an ethereal violet, a clear sign of a god's blessing. "She needs some breakfast."