The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the dirt path as Vel and Landre made their way back home. Their empty fishing baskets swayed with each step, the unused bait still filling one of them. Neither seemed to mind the lack of catch.
Vel stole glances at his sister, his heart still racing from earlier events. The memory of her form at the cliff's edge sent chills down his spine. One moment, one slip, and she would have been gone forever. The thought alone made his chest tighten.
But here she walked beside him, alive and present. Her steps carried a lightness that had been missing since the Ossuary incident. Each breath she took felt like a precious gift, a reminder of what he'd almost lost.
Landre paused to pick a wildflower from the roadside, inhaling its sweet scent before tucking it behind her ear. The gesture, so typical of her, choked him up.
The setting sun illuminated her profile, revealing a genuine smile, unlike the hollow one from earlier. Her eyes sparkled with life again, the shadows fading. Seeing her with a flower in her hair reminded him how close he'd come to losing her.
She noticed his gaze, tilting her head. "What?" she asked, her tone full of warmth.
Vel blinked, scrambling for a response under Landre's quizzical gaze.
"Nothing," he muttered quickly, gripping the basket tighter. "I was just thinking... you're really bad at fishing."
Landre's expression shifted from confusion to indignation, her brows arching high.
"Excuse me?" she said, straightening up and placing her hands on her hips. The wildflower behind her ear gave the gesture an almost comedic flair. "Coming from someone who hasn't even fished before? That's rich, Vel."
Vel shrugged nonchalantly, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. "Well, at least I probably won't sit by the river and pray for fish to jump into my lap."
Landre's mouth opened slightly, then snapped shut as realization flickered across her face. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, though a faint blush crept over her cheeks.
She pointed a finger at him. "Oh-ho, so that's how it is? Making fun of me now?" Her voice wavered between mock outrage and genuine embarrassment.
Vel smirked but kept his distance as she took a step forward. "Just saying," he teased with a casual shrug.
Landre huffed and crossed her arms but faltered when her gaze drifted to the dirt path ahead—her mind clearly wandering back to earlier by the river.
"You're so done," she muttered, meeting his gaze with mischievous challenge.
She lunged toward him suddenly. "Come here!"
Vel yelped and darted back down the path without hesitation, Landre hot on his heels as laughter spilled from both of them amidst the crunching leaves and scattered sunlight.
Vel's feet pounded the dirt path. The basket swung wildly at his side, nearly spilling its nonexistent contents. He glanced back to see Landre gaining on him, her face alight with a determined, playful grin.
"You're not getting away that easily!" she called, her voice breathless but filled with an energy Vel hadn't heard in days.
Vel darted between the bordering trees, but his exhausted legs protested. He stumbled to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees. Landre halted nearby, bent and panting with hands on her hips.
"You cheeky…little…brother," she managed between gulps of air, shaking her head but unable to hide the amusement dancing in her eyes.
Vel raised his hand in mock surrender. "Truce!" he panted. "I've run enough today." He pressed his side where a stitch was forming.
Landre let out a short laugh before nodding in agreement. "Fair enough," she said, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. Her shoulders sagged slightly as the exertion began catching up with her.
They stood there for a moment in silence, their breaths gradually slowing. When Vel finally looked up at Landre again, he found her already looking at him. Their gazes locked for what felt like an eternity yet passed in an instant.
And then they both smiled—softly at first but soon breaking into quiet laughter that felt like its own kind of release.
Without saying anything more, they moved back to walking side by side down the dirt path. The tension of earlier seemed lighter now as they continued toward home together under the amber light of the setting sun.
Vel and Landre entered Elnor through its iron gate, stepping into the town's evening bustle. The sounds of children's laughter mixed with merchants' calls.
They passed the central fountain with its battling figures. Their destination lay in the quieter southwest quarter, where neat rows of modest homes lined the streets. Their house stood among the others, built of wood and stone with an untamed garden of wildflowers.
Vel paused at the walkway, studying their home—fresh roof shingles, curtains swaying in the breeze. Though modest, the house stirred warmth within him.
"It feels... nice," he said finally, gripping the basket's strap tightly as he stared at it.
Landre stood beside him silently for a moment before responding. "I haven't really looked at it until now."
Vel nodded and moved closer silently. Without exchanging any further words, they began their journey toward its inviting warmth.
Vel adjusted the basket on his shoulder, glancing sideways at Landre as they neared the house. His stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from the glaringly empty basket that should have been brimming with fish by now.
"How are we going to explain this?" he asked, his voice low but carrying an edge of concern. "We haven't caught anything."
Landre shrugged lightly, brushing off a stray leaf clinging to her sleeve. "I'll think of something," she replied, her tone breezy yet holding that unmistakable confidence she always seemed to have when dealing with Mari.
Vel frowned slightly but decided not to press further. He wasn't convinced she had an actual plan, but knowing Landre, she'd probably spin it into something believable—or at least entertaining enough for Mari to let it slide.
As they approached the door, Vel hesitated for a split second before stepping inside behind Landre. The warm scent of stew filled the air immediately, mingling with the faint crackle of firewood from the kitchen hearth.
Mari stood by the table, her sleeves rolled up as she stirred a steaming pot. She turned toward them with a smile that softened instantly into mild curiosity when her eyes landed on the empty basket in Vel's hands.
"Back already? That was quick," she remarked, arching an eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a cloth.
Landre stepped forward casually, gesturing toward Vel as if presenting him for some grand explanation. "Well... about that..." She trailed off for dramatic effect before continuing with an exaggerated sigh. "We had a little incident."
Mari's brow furrowed slightly as she set down the cloth and crossed her arms. "Incident?"
Landre nodded solemnly, though there was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Vel here scared all the fish away."
Vel's jaw dropped slightly in protest. "Wait—what?! That's not what happened!"
Landre waved him off with mock seriousness. "It's true! He splashed around so much trying to catch one by hand that they all bolted downstream before we could even get our lines ready."
Mari pressed her lips together tightly—clearly suppressing laughter—as she glanced between them both.
Vel sputtered for a moment before narrowing his eyes at Landre. "That's not fair! You're making it sound like—!"
"Like I'm saving you from explaining why we didn't catch anything?" Landre interrupted smoothly, tilting her head with an innocent smile.
Mari chuckled softly then and shook her head. "Alright, alright... no fish today then." Her voice carried no hint of disappointment; only amusement at their antics.
Landre shot Vel a triumphant look as if to say "See? Told you I'd handle it."
Vel leaned closer to Landre as they shuffled over to the table, lowering his voice so Mari wouldn't catch wind of his words. "That was payback for earlier, wasn't it? So fitting of a Saint, Lan-neechan."
Landre grinned slyly without turning, setting the empty basket on the table with a hollow thud. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she murmured innocently.
Vel narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms. "Right. Just like you had no idea when you ditched me at the market to chase after some mysterious bait plan."
Her grin widened ever so slightly as she finally glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I said I'd think of something, didn't I? And look—it worked."
Landre slipped into her seat gracefully, clasping her hands together as though in mock reverence. Vel rolled his eyes but followed suit, sitting down.
"You seem more... lively today," Mari commented softly, her words gentle yet probing.
Landre paused before offering a small smile. "Guess I'm just happy to be home."
Vel caught the faintest flicker in Landre's expression—a fleeting vulnerability buried beneath her usual confidence. He stayed quiet, unsure if pressing further would help or only make things worse.
Mari placed the ladle back in the pot and turned to face them fully, brushing her hands on her apron. "Food won't be ready until dinner—and not before your father gets back. In the meantime," she said, giving them both a once-over, "go wash yourselves. You're tracking dirt all over my clean floor."
Vel looked down at his feet, noticing for the first time the smudges of mud trailing behind him. He winced slightly but managed to keep quiet, avoiding Mari's pointed gaze.
"I'll go first," Landre announced with a smirk, standing up from her seat with an exaggerated stretch. She shot Vel a quick teasing glance and stuck her tongue out playfully before striding toward the far end of the house where the washing basin was kept.
Vel groaned softly under his breath, shaking his head as he watched her go. Typical Lan-neechan behavior—always finding ways to get under his skin.
The new dining table felt too pristine, missing the familiar marks and history of their old one. Vel traced the smooth wood with his fingers as he waited.
Von entered last, setting his sword by the door before taking a seat with a soft scrape. Mari smiled at him from her spot, hands folded in her lap. Across from Vel, Landre fiddled with her fork, ignoring Von's lingering look.
"It's been a while since we've all eaten together like this," Mari said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a warmth that seemed to fill the space between them.
Von grunted in agreement as he reached for the stew pot at the center of the table. "Busy days," he muttered. "The work doesn't stop just because we've found shelter."
Mari tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Oh? And what 'work' did you accomplish today?"
Von let out a low chuckle, serving himself a generous portion before leaning back in his chair. "Nothing exciting—just helping Lady Halen's men fortify some weak points along the southern wall." He paused, glancing toward Vel and Landre as if gauging their interest. "We had some scouts return with news about movements near Everfront. Nothing alarming yet."
Mari nodded thoughtfully but didn't press further. Instead, she turned to Vel with an encouraging look that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"What about you two? Did you get into any trouble today?"
Vel opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it when Landre shot him a subtle glance—a silent warning not to ruin their carefully crafted surprise too soon.
"Not really," Landre answered smoothly, offering Mari an innocent smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just spent some time around town... got to know the area better."
Mari raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly unconvinced yet unwilling to push.
Landre nudged Vel under the table with her foot—gentle but insistent—and he took it as his cue to stay quiet for now.
Vel watched as Landre's shoulders shook with laughter, her hand covering her mouth as Von recounted his day.
"—and then he just walks right up to it, chest all puffed out," Von continued, gesturing with his spoon. "Says 'Look, it's perfectly safe!' Next thing we know—"
"He's dangling upside down!" Landre finished between giggles, her eyes bright with genuine amusement.
The sound of her laughter, real and unguarded, made Vel pause mid-bite. It had been days since he'd heard that familiar ring in her voice. Von and Mari exchanged surprised glances, clearly noting the change in their daughter's demeanor.
"Poor Marcus," Mari shook her head, though her lips twitched with barely contained mirth. "I hope he wasn't hurt?"
"Just his pride," Von chuckled, reaching for another piece of bread. "Though I doubt he'll be testing any more rope bridges anytime soon."
Landre wiped tears from her eyes, her smile lingering naturally on her face. The tension that had haunted her features these past few days seemed to have melted away, if only for this moment.
Mari's gaze shifted to Vel, her eyes soft with understanding. She gave him a subtle nod, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes: You've done well.
Vel ducked his head to hide a faint smile, focusing on his stew as warmth bloomed in his chest at seeing his sister heal.
Spoons clinked against bowls as quiet conversation filled the air. Vel caught Landre's eye mid-bite, sharing a silent exchange that sparked between them.
He set his spoon down with deliberate slowness and leaned back, a mischievous grin playing at his lips as he cleared his throat.
"Actually," he began, drawing out the word just enough to grab attention, "we do have something to share."
Von raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his gaze as he reached for more bread. Mari tilted her head, her hands resting lightly on the table.
Landre gave Vel a pointed look—part annoyance, part amusement—but he gestured toward her with a flourish, his expression urging, "Go on."
She sighed, rolling her eyes for effect as she straightened in her seat. Her fingers curled into her palm before she lifted her hand above the table. An expectant silence stretched around them.
Then it appeared—a faint shimmer at first, almost imperceptible against the dim light of their home. But it grew steadily brighter until a soft glow floated above Landre's hand like a fragile flame held aloft by sheer will.
Mari's spoon clattered against her bowl with a sharp sound that broke the stillness. Her eyes widened in shock as she leaned forward instinctively.
Von's composure faltered for just a second—his shoulders stiffened, and he sat straighter in his chair. His focus zeroed in on the light, analytical and intent as if dissecting its every nuance.
The glow lingered between Landre's fingers like it belonged there—quiet yet commanding all attention without effort. She watched it for a moment herself before letting it pulse faintly once more and fade away.
"That's..." Mari's voice wavered slightly, barely above a whisper as she stared at Landre with something akin to awe.
Von narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, his tone measured but probing. "When did this happen?"
Landre hesitated, visibly choosing her words carefully before answering. "Recently," she admitted quietly. "I think I was close for a while but... I didn't realize it until now."
Mari's hand flew to cover her mouth; unshed tears shimmered faintly in her eyes as she whispered reverently: "Shizka's blessing..."
Von exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze moving to Vel. The lines of skepticism etched into his face softened just slightly as he asked, "And you knew about this?"
Vel shrugged, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. "Figured it'd be fun to surprise you both."
Landre shot Vel a mock glare, her lips twitching with poorly hidden amusement.
Mari grasped her daughter's hands, eyes shining with tears. "My daughter... An initiate..."
Landre shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Mari's words. Her expression turned unreadable as she murmured softly, "Not yet. It's not official."
Mari shook her head gently, her smile warm and unwavering as she squeezed Landre's hands. "It doesn't need to be. The gods have seen you. That alone..." Her voice trailed off, emotion thickening each word before she finally let go.
Von leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple with one hand as he let out a long sigh that sounded equal parts weary and resigned. "I suppose this means we're going to have more headaches in the future."
Vel couldn't help but smirk at that, his tone laced with amusement as he chimed in, "Oh, definitely."
Mari shot Von a pointed look from across the table—one that needed no words but carried volumes of disapproval nonetheless.
"Von," she said simply.
*"What?", *Von grumbled under his breath before speaking again, though his tone was lighter now. "I'm proud of her," he admitted gruffly, glancing briefly at Landre before continuing with a wry edge to his voice. "But you know what the Church is like. It won't be simple."
Von met Landre's eyes, his voice steady. "You know what this means, right, Landre?"
Landre raised her head, gripping her chair. She glanced at Vel before focusing on Von. "I... I do."
Von leaned in, arms on the table. "There will be steps you need to take at the Church."
Landre's jaw tightened as she nodded. "I know that too," she said softly but firmly.
Vel sensed a strange tension, thick as storm clouds. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Von and Landre. His father's expression was unreadable—neither stern nor soft, just calculating.
"They'll expect a formal consecration," Von continued after a pause. "And that means proving your worth not just through devotion but by demonstrating control over your attunement." He paused again, his gaze narrowing faintly as if assessing how prepared Landre truly was.
Landre didn't flinch under his scrutiny; instead, she straightened her posture ever so slightly and met his gaze head-on. "I'm ready for it," she said simply.
"Good."
His tone softened just a fraction as he added almost reluctantly, "But don't rush into it blindly. The Church isn't just about faith—it's politics too. You'll need to tread carefully."
Mari touched Landre's clenched fist, her gentle contact melting some of Landre's tension. *"We'll be with you every step of the way," *she whispered.
Vel swallowed hard, an odd pang in his chest at Mari's words. He wanted to reassure Landre but remained silent.
Landre gave their mother a fragile smile. "Thank you... all of you."
Vel noticed her brief hesitation before she looked down at her hands.
Vel leaned forward to meet Landre's eye. Though her shoulders had relaxed, she still fidgeted with her sleeve. He glanced at Mari and Von's exchange of proud, worried looks.
"Lan-neechan, if there's anything I can help with—anything—just ask," he said softly, preserving the room's quiet calm.
Landre startled at his sincerity. She studied his face, lips parting briefly before letting out a light laugh.
"You're such a little busybody sometimes," she murmured, almost smiling.
Vel frowned but pressed on. "I mean it. Whatever you need—no matter what—I'll be here."
Her composure cracked for a moment. She nodded, exhaling softly before meeting his eyes. "I know you will," she said quietly.
Vel woke to voices below. Sunlight warmed his face as he listened to the conversation drifting upstairs.
"Mari-san, is Vel okay now? We heard he was hurt!" Celia's worried voice carried up.
"Yeah! He hasn't been out for so long..." Kein added uncertainly.
Mari replied calmly, "He's better now, just resting. But thank you for checking on him."
Vel rubbed his temples. A week had passed since his collapse in the Ossuary. He swung out of bed, stretching his stiff muscles.
"The kids..." Giri mused inside him. "Better not keep them waiting."
He descended the stairs quietly, their voices growing clearer.
"I told Kein-kun Vel-kun would be fine," Celia said. "He's tough! Right?"
"Yeah... but what if something serious happened?" Kein countered.
Mari chuckled. "You both worry too much."
Reaching the bottom step, Vel smirked. "Oh? Worrying about me already?"
"Vel-kun!" Celia spun around, barely stopping herself from tackling him.
"Took you long enough..." Kein muttered, though he stepped closer too.
"Good morning to you too," Vel replied dryly. "Sorry if I worried you."
"We just wanted to make sure you're okay!" Celia insisted.
"Better than ever," Vel assured her with a partial smile.
Kein crossed his arms. "Ready to get back to practice? Bet you're rusty now."
"Rusty? I've been mentally practicing," Vel retorted.
Celia giggled at their exchange.
Vel asked Mari about his sister's whereabouts.
"She left for church this morning." Mari replied while arranging herbs.
"Alright, let's head out," Vel said to his friends. "I need to remind someone why skipping practice doesn't mean losing skill."
Kein rolled his eyes but grinned. "We'll see about that."
"Let's make it a good session!" Celia called as they stepped into the morning sun, Vel feeling lighter despite the past week's chaos.
[**]
The church's arched doorway loomed ahead, its weathered wood etched with Shizka's symbols. My fingers traced the worn leather of the book under my arm, a comforting presence. I knew this path well, but today felt different. The weight in my chest was heavier—anticipation, perhaps.
I paused at the threshold, inhaling the faint scent of incense and polished stone to calm the storm within. My reflection caught on the metal handle—a pale face framed by a braid, lips pressed thin, eyes wide with unvoiced questions. Did I look ready? Did it even matter?
The door creaked as I opened it, stepping into the cool sanctuary bathed in filtered light. The familiar quiet enveloped me, broken by distant murmurs and footsteps. Acolytes bustled past with candlesticks and cloths, nodding briefly as they continued their tasks.
I moved forward, each step echoing within me. My heart thudded louder than my boots as I approached the altar where Father Oswin often preached. Today was about offering myself fully to Shizka's light.
The lectern stood tall at the front, and Father Oswin emerged from a side alcove, his serene expression shifting when he noticed me lingering mid-aisle.
"Landre." His voice carried warmth but also a hint of curiosity.
"I..." My voice faltered before steadying as I clutched my book tighter against me. "I've come to apply as an initiate."
Father Oswin's brows lifted slightly, his calm demeanor flickering with surprise. He stepped closer, hands clasped loosely, the soft rustle of his robes filling the space between us.
"Apply as an initiate?" His tone was even, yet the weight of his words tightened my throat. "You understand what this entails? The consecration is no simple ceremony."
I nodded quickly, my grip on the book firm as if it anchored me. "I do."
His gaze lingered on me, searching for something I couldn't name. Then, he spoke again, quieter this time but no less direct. "To seek initiation is to claim that one has been blessed by the gods themselves." He paused, studying my face. "Have you truly received such a blessing?"
The question struck like a bell in my chest. My fingers brushed unconsciously over the leather cover of my book before I met his eyes and gave the only answer I could.
"Yes," I said softly but firmly.
Oswin tilted his head slightly, curiosity now evident in his expression. The corners of his mouth curved upward—not quite a smile but something close to it. "I see... Then you must already know which god has extended their grace to you."
I hesitated for just a moment before replying. "Shizka," I whispered.
That word hung between us, filled with certainty and doubt. Father Oswin's expression shifted to one of thoughtfulness, almost reverence.
"Shizka..." He repeated, testing the name's weight. His gaze appraised me, searching deeper. Finally, he nodded and gestured to a pew.
"Sit," he said gently but firmly. "There are signs to confirm such claims—manifestations that cannot be ignored."
I obeyed, settling onto the wooden bench as he turned to an alcove for ceremonial items. My heart raced, questions swirling in my mind.
Would he see it? Would she show him?
Father Oswin's robes shifted softly as he moved toward the alcoves, each deliberate step precise, as if guided by an unseen force. I watched, my hands stiff on my lap and my book pressed against my side.
The shadowed alcove held a gleaming array of ceremonial items. Father Oswin paused, head tilted slightly, scanning the collection with care. I could only catch faint glints of polished metal and reflections on glass, suggesting a treasury of sacred relics.
He reached for one item, then paused mid-reach to shift to another, as if weighing decisions laden with meaning. Finally, his fingers closed around a small, cylindrical silver censer, engraved with intricate symbols.
As he turned back to me, the censer dangled from its chain, catching the light and casting soft patterns across the stone floor. The gentle sound of the chain swaying broke the silence of the sanctuary.
When he stopped before me again, his expression was calm, but a gravity now lingered in his gaze.
"Are you ready?" His voice was low but resonant, each word settling into the stillness around us like a stone into water.
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."
He held my gaze for a moment longer before stepping back and raising the censer. With practiced precision, he swung it gently once, then twice, releasing fragrant smoke that curled into the air. The scent was rich and layered: earthy yet sharp, comforting yet overwhelming.
His lips moved in silent prayer as he performed the ritual, the words inaudible but rhythmically echoing. The smoke coiled between us, forming invisible threads connecting heaven to earth.
Then it happened.
A warmth stirred within me, deep and spreading like sunlight through clouds. My hands trembled at first, then stilled as I noticed a faint glow from my chest.
The light brightened, enveloping me in a pure white radiance that felt alive—neither hot nor cold. It pulsed softly, in harmony with my heartbeat.
Father Oswin froze, his prayer faltering as astonishment filled his eyes. His grip on the censer wavered, and for a moment, I thought he might drop it.
"By Shizka's grace..." His whisper held such disbelief that it barely broke the silence.
And then —
The light shimmered around me, soft as a feather, before dissolving into the air. It left a heavy stillness that made my breath catch as I glanced at my hands, searching for a sign to explain what had happened. They remained pale and ordinary, resting on the book in my lap.
Father Oswin stood frozen, censer dangling from his fingers, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he'd witnessed the incomprehensible. For a moment, we were silent, the stillness stretching thin between us.
"This..." His voice was low and strained, snapping the quiet like a frayed string. He stepped back unsteadily, shaking his head. "This is no small matter."
I swallowed hard, speechless. What could I say? My thoughts churned like stormy waves. The ritual was complete—Shizka's grace had manifested—but what did it mean for me, my family, everything?
Oswin set the censer on the lectern and clasped his hands tightly, steadying himself. When he looked at me again, his gaze was sharp, making me straighten instinctively.
"Do you understand?" he began slowly. "What you've shown... this doesn't happen often—not to someone like you."
Confusion mixed with unease as I echoed, "Someone like me?"
He gestured vaguely at my simple dress and braid. "A commoner," he clarified reluctantly. "We've seen clerics and priests from noble families or seasoned adventurers blessed through trials... but this? A direct blessing from Shizka herself? One of the Outer Three?"
His words hung heavy between us, weighted with implications I wasn't ready to face.
Oswin's fingers tightened around the edge of the lectern as he straightened himself, his composure slowly returning. His gaze didn't waver, though his expression grew more measured—like a man standing on the precipice of a decision with consequences that rippled far beyond him.
"Landre," he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. "This... what I've seen here today—what Shizka has revealed through you—is unlike anything I have encountered in all my years."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. My chest still felt heavy with the remnants of that light, as if it had carved itself into me, leaving behind an unshakable weight.
He drew in a sharp breath before continuing. "You may not fully understand the gravity of this moment, but it is not something I can resolve alone. The High Priests must be informed—a conclave will need to be called to determine the next steps."
A conclave. The word landed like a stone in my stomach. My fingers clenched around my book reflexively.
"A conclave?" I echoed hesitantly, my voice trembling just enough for Oswin to notice.
He gave a slow nod, his expression grim but resolute. "Yes. A gathering of the highest leaders within the Church of Aeonalus." He hesitated briefly before adding, "This is no small matter, Landre. Shizka's light has touched others before—initiates and clerics alike—but what manifested through you today..." He trailed off, his brows knitting together in thought.
"It's different," he continued after a pause, his tone softer now but still weighted with significance. "Purer than anything I've ever witnessed—unblemished by doubt or weakness, as if even the smallest impurity had been... erased."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. My hands loosened their grip on the book just enough for it to shift slightly against my lap.
Oswin's gaze grew distant for a moment, as though seeing something far beyond the sanctuary walls. When he spoke again, there was an undercurrent of caution in his voice that made me sit up straighter.
"Not everyone will welcome this news," he admitted quietly, almost to himself. "The balance of power within our church is delicate at best—and something like this..." He shook his head lightly before refocusing on me. "There are those who see such blessings not as divine gifts but as threats to their authority."
My stomach twisted at his words, though I couldn't fully grasp their meaning yet. Before I could ask anything more, Oswin stepped back from the lectern and turned toward one of the side doors leading deeper into the church.
"I must begin preparations immediately," he said firmly over his shoulder without looking back at me. His pace quickened as though driven by some unseen urgency.
And just like that, I was left sitting there—
The silence after Father Oswin's departure was deafening. I stayed rooted in the pew, staring at the place where he had stood, the faint scent of incense still lingering in the air. My heart pounded—not from excitement, but something far heavier, knotted and cold in my chest.
Slowly, I turned my head toward the alcove to my right. There they stood—the six statues of the gods, tall and imposing in their carved grace. Each figure bore symbols of their dominion: Shizka's hands were open and glowing with light; Morya held a harp-like instrument, frozen mid-chord; Calyphe was draped in robes that seemed to ripple despite being stone. Jules stood grounded, surrounded by etched vines, while Tir's hooded figure clutched an orb obscured by shadows. Ignis burned brightest of all—his outstretched arm held a flame that seemed almost alive.
I rose to my feet slowly, drawn toward them as though compelled by something outside myself. My footsteps echoed faintly on the stone floor as I approached, stopping just short of Shizka's statue. Her face was serene yet distant, her gaze cast upward toward some unseen horizon.
My fingers brushed against the hem of my dress as I stared up at her. Was this what I had asked for? To be seen by her? To be chosen? A Saint—a title so revered among worshippers that it seemed almost untouchable.
But now... now it felt like chains more than anything else.
I glanced at the other statues, their presence looming over me like silent witnesses. They were supposed to guide us—to protect us and teach us to do good. Yet Father Oswin's words lingered: "There are those who see such blessings not as divine gifts but as threats to their authority."
Authority.
It wasn't what I'd expected when I first dreamed of becoming a Saint. I wanted to help people—to heal wounds and bring light into darkness—not to become some pawn in a game I didn't even understand. Wasn't this supposed to be simple? Faithful devotion leading to purpose? Why did it feel so much more tangled?
My hands curled into fists at my sides as doubt gnawed at me. If the Church cared more about power than teaching—than helping—what did that mean for me? For Shizka?
Father Oswin's words pressed against my thoughts like an iron vise. Conclave, balance, threats to authority—they swirled in my mind, clouding my clarity. My head felt heavy, the air thickening around me, creating a sharp ache within.
My legs trembled as I stepped back from Shizka's statue, steadying myself against a pew. Quiet whispers rose around me like echoes off stone walls. I turned to catch glimpses of acolytes and workers in the sanctuary; their eyes darted toward me before quickly looking away.
They knew.
Their hushed tones filled the space like stray prayers. I didn't need to hear their words; their gazes conveyed everything—curiosity, reverence, perhaps fear. My chest tightened under their scrutiny.
Home. That's where I needed to be.