"Lucius, huh?"
"Yeah," Kiera replied. "Heard some upperclassmen say they prayed to him last year just to pass their finals."
Interesting. Guess we'll learn more later.
"Oculor, you still asleep?" Vael asked with a hint of humor.
"No, contractor. I am not burdened by the need to 'sleep.' Such things are beneath me," Oculor replied, his tone carrying a trace of irritation.
"Really, now? Then why were you looking so peaceful? Dream well?" Vael mocked playfully.
Oculor's silence stretched, and Vael's expression shifted, his smirk fading into concern.
"No, really. Are you okay?"
"I am fine," Oculor answered after a pause. "I simply needed… a little rest, that is all."
Idle chatter filled the room — passing remarks about other students, gripes about the food, and the odd joke that actually made Kiera laugh. Vael found himself enjoying the normalcy. It was strange, sitting cross-legged on the spotless floor of her room, sharing bread and stew as if they were just any other pair of students.
Hours slipped by without either of them noticing. The sun's angle through the window shifted, shadows stretching longer. By the time Vael glanced at the clock, his eyes widened.
"We should probably get moving."
Kiera stretched, groaning. "Already? I was just getting comfortable."
"Yeah, well, last thing we need is detention on our second day," Vael muttered, standing and brushing crumbs from his clothes.
They left the dorms together, the air outside buzzing with chatter from dozens of students hurrying in the same direction.
The corridors felt more alive than the day before, energy building as anticipation for the next lesson grew.
And soon enough, they arrived at their next class.
Room 02. Nothing special about it. White walls, rows of desks, the faint smell of ink and parchment.
Vael and Kiera slipped inside just in time, finding their usual spot near the back. The moment they sat, the bell rang, sharp and final.
The door shut with a deliberate click. The teacher, about fifty years of age, stepped in, robes brushing against the floor, but he was not alone. An assistant followed, silent and watchful, their expressions blank.
"Welcome, children," the man began, his voice calm yet resonant, the kind that demanded attention without raising in volume. "To your religion class."
He adjusted the pendant hanging from his neck — a gleaming silver emblem shaped like a sun split in half.
"My name is Father Paul. I'll be teaching you everything there is to know about Grenusaism."
He let the name hang in the air, as though it carried weight. A few students shifted in their seats, uncertain whether to meet his gaze or look away.
Vael's eyes caught on the pendant. He remembered the Church's symbol being an angel entwined with a snake, not a sun split in two. Another mystery. Another thing to file away for later. He couldn't wait to learn more.
Behind Father Paul, a young woman stepped in. She looked about the students' age, though the way she carried herself hinted otherwise.
"This is my assistant, Serena Locrux," Father Paul announced. "She's… an intern, more or less."
He gave her a small nudge to step forward.
"Hello, class. My name is Serena." Her voice was warm, and her smile carefully practiced. "I'll be assisting Father with his lessons this year, though I don't plan on becoming a teacher myself."
She paused, as if weighing how much she wanted to reveal. Then:
"You see, despite my age, I already hold an important position within the Church. I'm here as part of… let's call it an initiation."
Words were unnecessary. Her very presence radiated enough holiness to drive out a demon.
Was it her attire that carried such weight—or simply the force of her faith?
"I still have much to learn, so I hope you'll help me as I'll help you," Serena finished, her delivery flawless.
A few students nodded instinctively, almost reverently. To them, she seemed untouchable—someone their own age, yet already a figure of importance within Grenusaism. They could only imagine the kind of life she led.
Father Paul eased into his seat at the front, movements measured and calm.
"Now then, children," he began, voice steady, "we'll start with the basics. Symbols, then the important figures. It's worth noting that some of our lessons will overlap with your history class, as politics and faith are often woven together."
Vael glanced at Kiera.
"Yes," their thoughts aligned in perfect unison. Finally—salvation. Not every history lesson would drag on like the torture they had endured earlier. Some, maybe even half, would be shared with this class.
At least now, answers would come.
They both knew this religion wasn't what it appeared to be. Was it merely a tool to keep the masses obedient? Or was there something deeper, a conspiracy stretching further than they dared imagine?
For now, though, their skepticism was eclipsed by excitement. They were about to peel back the curtain.