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It's an early morning — not even the sun is up — when Kris' eyes open. They mentally bemoan those several hours of sleep they should have had, but the Soul is apparently a freaking morning person.
Really. Just a couple more hours of sleep, is it too much to ask? They had to sneak just before midnight to participate in that messed-up ritual Aunt Carol has dragged them into. They didn't want to do it, they didn't want some freakish demon or whatnot in their body. Yes, they want to find Dess, everyone does, but for the price of their autonomy? Their freedom? Their LIFE if the blasted thing turns out to be malevolent? They don't want to. (They rarely want anything anymore.) But Aunt Carol didn't reach her position by flapping her eyelashes. When she wants something, she gets it. Manipulation? Sure. Guilt tripping, bribery, sweet words of encouragement and promises of a bright future. She'll use everything to reach her goal. Kris genuinely pities Uncle Rudy for his poor taste in partners (they carefully avoid thinking of their drunk mother's blabbing about how "those besties" should just get together for everyone's good).
For several minutes nothing happens. Kris's eyes study the ceiling with a couple of squashed but not scraped dead mosquitoes that Kris killed with a pillow (their aim is GREAT), their limbs stay sprawled, only twitching slightly, like the parasite is checking the senses. Their chest feels warm and they hate how comfortable the feeling is, not helping their sleepiness at all. "It" isn't welcome (it doesn't matter that Kris has agreed to host it), and it is only a tool to deal with Dark Worlds while they are looking for Dess (because Kris' own soul is too fucking weak to close the Fountains, and now they don't even have it, a hostage of a deal they had immediately come to hate). Nothing more. Nothing less.
It takes them a couple of seconds to realize that the warmth is growing until, in a moment of scorching heat, a little red heart bursts out of their chest. The sudden burning leaves them disoriented, and their flailing arms fail to catch the Soul, which moves to the right, stopping in the center of the room, right above the Hometown's crest and main religious symbol — the Delta Rune.
Kris quickly tumbles out of bed, but multiple black dots that fill their vision make them plop back on it, so Kris resigns themself to waiting until those annoying blobs of darkness stop obscuring the light of the Soul.
While they are busy dealing with the joys of their soulless body adjusting itself to the upright position, the Soul starts changing. Its form melting and growing, lengthening until it starts resembling a person. Then widening, something growing from its "back"...
Realization hits Kris like a truck — the understanding of what exactly they have trapped. Whom. An all-encompassing horror fills them, their body feeling faint and instinctively sliding down to kneel on the floor.
The Angel is beautiful: gentle features, shoulder-length wispy hair, moving as if underwater, rosy skin seemingly made of dimmed light, and gorgeous scarlet wings. A four-pointed halo floats above its head, shining silver. What can be called clothes resembles their mother's church robes, except instead of a circle representing the Angel within the Delta Rune, there's a bright red heart. The Angel's Soul.
There is no concept of sin in their religion, regardless of what their brother liked to believe when they were children. And yet, at this very moment, Kris can feel their sins crawling on their back. And the greatest sin of them all, The Ultimate Betrayal, is capturing and trapping The Angel, the head figure of their homeland's religion, the one that's supposed to look over them all.
Guilt starts choking them, their breath hitching, as they are unable to tear their eyes from the Angel's visage.
"Sshhh," the Angel murmurs, lowering itself on the floor in front of Kris. "It's alright, darling, it's alright."
"But I..." they try to confess, their throat tight and aching.
"I know. And I know that she forced you. It's alright, darling. You did nothing wrong."
The Angel leans towards them, curling its arms around Kris' shoulders and bringing them close.
"I know everything that needs to be done, darling. I know how to find her. I know how to ensure that things don't go south with the Roaring. And I know what burden you carry on your shoulders. What happened that day. What you promised to the mayor. What she forced you to do, to sacrifice. But you don't have to do everything alone. I'm here. I'll help. You are not alone anymore."
Fear, loneliness, resentment towards Carol and her manipulations, longing, guilt, digust and hatred towards themself — all the emotions that have been piling up on top of each other for the longest time, bottled in their chest — it all pours out now like a geyser formed from a candy thrown into a bottle of coke.
The Angel is holding them tight through their sobbing, emitting low vibrating humming that feels like a balm on Kris's raw, battered heart.
Once tears and shaking stop, they notice the warmth the deity is radiating. It makes them drowsy, as does a hand gently combing through their hair, as does the gentle rocking. The Angel is still humming, and Kris can feel their swollen eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. They burrow their face into the Angel's robes, miraculously dry despite Kris' waterworks, not ready to speak with the deity just yet. The Angel seems to have no problem with that, continuing their humming. They can feel the world start slipping and decide to give in to an overwhelming desire to sleep. If it wants to talk, it can wake them up just fine. (They dearly hope it won't. This night already feels much longer than it has any right to be.)