I descended quietly from the attic, stepping carefully down the creaking wooden ladder. The dusty air stung my throat, and the cold, gray stone corridors of the orphanage were illuminated by the pale light of morning. The gray light filtering through the narrow windows drew long shadows on the stone floor. Outside, the wind howled—a haunting lullaby in this bleak world.
Just as I turned the corner of the hallway, a tiny hand tugged at the edge of my shirt. I flinched, my heart leaping in my chest. I turned quickly, fists clenched, bracing for a nun's scolding. But it was Marin. Her messy blonde hair, apple cheeks, and wide blue eyes gleamed with fear and a familiar warmth. My shoulders relaxed, and the tension evaporated like steam. I reached out and gently tousled her straw-colored hair.
"Hey, what are you doing here, Marin?" I asked, a small smile in my voice. As my fingers ran through her silky hair, she puffed out her cheeks and gave me a look—an angry but sweet expression, like a little squirrel.
"BIG BROTHEEER! WHERE DID YOU DISAPPEAR TOOO?" she shouted, her voice echoing down the stone corridor, shaking the walls.
I bent down quickly, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shh, be quiet!" I whispered. "I had something to do, little one. The attic thing is our secret, okay?" Marin's blue eyes sparkled with curiosity, but before she could ask more, I gently covered her mouth. "You're your brother's favorite, don't tell anyone this secret, alright?" I said, patting her back. Marin giggled, nodded, and held my hand. Together, we walked toward the dining hall.
Along the way, Marin couldn't stop talking. "Brother, I prayed to God three times today! On my knees! I even gave up my doll as an offering!" she said, puffing out her chest proudly. "Then I played the rock game with the others—you know, lining up the round stones? I won twice!" Her cheerfulness was like a spring breeze in this rotten place. There were fifteen of us in the orphanage, but only three of us —me, Rui, and Adre— were over eleven. According to the Church, eleven was the age of adulthood. Boys and girls were separated, away from the little ones. A stupid rule, but if you protested, fire would be your fate.
The orphanage was a prison with gray stone walls and a leaking roof. Every thirty years, a royal inspector would come, check the supply rooms, and then vanish again. Somehow, the storerooms were always full—like magic. This place felt like it was under the shadow of a forgotten curse.
In the dining hall, the wooden tables were cold and perfectly arranged. Girls on one side, boys on the other. Marin wanted to sit with me, but Sister Maria's sharp gaze stopped her in her tracks.
"Marin, to your seat!" she barked, her voice cracking like a whip. She threw a jab at me, too: "Lior, wandering again? God sees all!"I didn't even bother to respond. I scooped some oat porridge and a chunk of hard bread onto my plate and sat down.
At the table were Rui and Adre. We had arrived at the orphanage at the same time, but there was no bond between us. Rui was tall, pale, with perpetually furrowed brows. Adre was short and stocky, eyes always fixed on the ground. Naturally, we didn't talk much.
After the meal came the holy hours. I put on my gray robe, knelt down, and picked up the holy book. The pages were old and heavy, rustling under my fingers. It resembled the religions from my previous life—apostles, angels, enemies… But one story always disturbed me.
Kahva was a man who defied God. God had wronged him, yet He still destroyed Kahva's children, his family, and chained him to a mountain, cursing him with eternal life. That way, Kahva would live with the pain of his loss forever. It made no sense. But what truly bothered me was the origin of these stories. In my previous life, religions were often rooted in a sliver of reality. But here? Was there truth beneath these tales? I didn't know, but something inside me burned—a spark of curiosity, of defiance.
Evening fell, and it was time for sleep. My mind was still on the book in the attic, but I had to lie down. Sister Maria always patrolled the corridors before she flogged herself at night—a sadistic ritual, but no one dared speak of it. I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.
Around midnight, I was awakened by whispers. Two shadows were speaking beyond the door.
"Yes, sir. It's still the same. Nothing has changed," Rui said, his voice trembling but firm."Mm-hmm. Understood," Adre whispered back.
Curious, I got up, tiptoed to the door, and peeked through the crack. I could see Rui and Adre's silhouettes. They were holding something—but I couldn't tell what. Just as they were about to speak again, the ground shook.
Suddenly, a deafening voice engulfed the orphanage:"THE LEGACY OF XI XUA IS NOT FOR INFIDELS!"The voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth—or perhaps beyond the sky. It was muffled, yet terrifying.
Rui and Adre recoiled in fear, hurriedly hiding whatever they held in their robes before vanishing down the hallway. The dormitory trembled; stone walls groaned, wooden beams creaked. A lightning bolt tore through the sky—so bright it blinded me. My teeth chattered, and my skin froze.
More bolts followed—each one hitting the orphanage like a giant's fist. The sky tore open, revealing a swirling black portal that devoured the stars as it grew. From it, metallic shadows emerged—massive ships, descending like an invading swarm.
The orphanage was ablaze. Wooden beams crackled, and the stone walls glowed red like molten metal. This wasn't a normal fire—it was as if a curse rained from the heavens.
The nuns screamed, trying to herd the children outside. I heard Marin's voice, crying,"Lior! Lior!"
Rui and Adre vanished into the crowd, running from me. A bolt of lightning struck, as if aimed directly at me. My body shook, sparks flashed in my eyes.
But in that moment, only one thought surged through my mind:The book in the attic.
Adrenaline flooded my veins. Ignoring the screams of the nuns, the roar of the flames, I ran toward the burning building.
As soon as I entered, the nuns tried to follow, to stop me—but a falling beam crashed down, sealing the entrance behind me.