It was a moonless, windy night, and the residents of the Royal City had all retired to bed, a curfew in place. The patrolling guards traversed the streets and alleys, their lives summed up by five simple words: rise, patrol, eat, patrol, return home—a routine unchanging day after day.
"When darkness fell, the Priests would light the lamps, and when the oil in the lamps ran out, it was refilled, burning on until it extinguished in the morning."
In the dim of night, the Great Elder caressed the lampstand, sharing with Catherine:
"In this way, people are much like lampstands, repeating day after day, year after year."
Catherine had planned to return to the Music Academy before the curfew; she should have lain back in her bed after a song. Yet, she gradually lost track of time during her interactions with the True Believers until the sight of guards carrying torches on patrol startled her into realization.
With no choice, Catherine could only temporarily rest within the Sects.
