As the congregation gathered, the preacher headed towards the front, walking up into a small raised dais. It didn't even put him that far from the new believers at the front - they could reach out and touch his knees if they so desired. The man didn't seem to mind at all - when one person did just that, he stopped moving back and forth, knelt down, and held the person’s hand for a moment, smiling benevolently at them.

When he began speaking again, it was full of warmth, expounding upon his impromptu speech about the warmth and open arms of Crimson. Around him, Nevin could see that even the newest members to the crowd were thoroughly entranced by the promises of acceptance.

A hiccup came - a young man, in his teens from the look of him, pushed forward, tears streaming down his face as he fell to his knees, clutching desperately at the priest’s robes. A shocked murmur ran through the crowd at this sight, but the preacher recovered quickly, kneeling down and listening as the sobbing teen whispered furiously. When the teen finished speaking, his body still shaking with silent sobs, the preacher stood up, wrapping one arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulling him to his feet.

“My friends, my fellow children of Crimson, it seems I have made a grievous error, one that has made this young man fear that the Church of the Crimson would have no place for him.” A fresh gasp of disbelief ran through the crowd. “Ah but let me assure you now, that this is not the case. My friend, will you let me tell them what your fear is?” a trembling nod, and the priest gently patted the boy’s head before turning to address the crowd.

“This young man, as he says, is not fully human. I doubt he is the only one in the crowd who fits that description. But his fear stems from the fact that his blood is not red, but instead a shade of blue. My friends, fellow children. When I speak of the Crimson that gives us all life, I am not being so literal, the blood need not be red. We of the Church of the Crimson do not care if your blood is red, or black, or blue, or green - we all share life, we all bleed. That is the Crimson, the vital fluid that unites us all. Even the color of our Crimson matters not to us, no more than your standing of birth or the color of your skin. All are welcome in the Church.” He again, and placed one hand on the teen’s shoulder, and gave him a gentle push.

“Go my boy, rejoin your fellow Children. Now then - you might be curious, how is it that we of the Church know that we aren't just lunatics?” As the teen stumbled back down, being caught by other people of the Church and held for a moment, the preacher had continued speaking, looking out into the cathedral. Whatever he was looking for when he asked that he must have seen, as he continued. “Why, it is simple. While not something I have seen myself, the founder of this branch or the church is one of those who were blessed enough by the Crimson to witness the coming of the Messiah.”

Alarm shot through Nevin. The way the cultist had spoken - he was not the survivor, just another lost soul who had been dragged in by one of the cultists who had survived the village. Cobalt take it, that meant the cultist he was hunting might not even be here in Radasanth, he might have missed the man altogether. Wait. What Messiah? That wasn't something that had been in the teachings of the Church that he remembered. Had they already tried again, and succeeded?

“Even now, the Messiah walks among us. Born from a disaster that saw the deaths of many of the initial Church, he travels the land as an unassuming man, working to serve his fellow Children! And you shall know him, if you see him, by his blood red hair, but more importantly, the veins of Crimson that adorn his skin! The founder told me just yesterday that he had received word from searchers that the Messiah had been found once more, so it should only be matter of time until he is brought back to the Church! But, because of the disaster that saw his arrival to this world, he does not know that any of the Church survived. He must feel so lost, so alone - so if you ever meet a red-haired alchemist, please, treat him with care. He might just be our Messiah!”

Oh, oh Crimson. Nevin felt his heart turn to ice and all of his blood leave his face. They meant him.