CHAPTER 1 - FATHER LUZIEL(EDITED)

The bus swayed gently, the hum of its engine blending with the low murmur of voices and the occasional burst of laughter from the back. Afternoon light streamed through the windows, broken by shadows of passing trees. Most of the seats were filled faces young, some barely out of their teens, others in their early twenties.

By the window, on the left side, sat a young man with black hair and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow light. There was something about him that drew glances, especially from the girls. He wasn't trying to be noticed, but he was. Even the shy church girls, the ones who pretended not to look, had imagined what life with him might be like.

He stared out at the scenery, his expression unreadable, until a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Caelen! Hey, did you see that building over there?"

A tall boy about his age slid into the empty seat beside him. Without asking, he leaned across and tapped Caelen's shoulder, pointing toward the other side of the bus.

That half was livelier, conversations overlapping, laughter spilling out, heads craning to see a sleek, glass-sided building that rose above the skyline.

"It's something, right?" the boy grinned.

Caelen glanced, unimpressed. "Jake, can you not grab my face? I'm looking at it. And no it's just another building. You've pointed out at least twelve already."

Jake pulled back with a sheepish chuckle. "Sorry. Guess I'm just not used to any of this. I barely leave the church grounds. Everything's... kind of amazing."

Caelen's mouth curved into a faint smirk. "You'll find out soon enough. The outside world isn't always as exciting as you think."

"Maybe not. But once we get the goddess's blessing, we'll be strong enough to handle anything. And maybe even make enough to help the church more."

"Mm," Caelen murmured, not promising anything.

They fell into an easy rhythm, trading bits of conversation, Caelen teasing Jake about the strange food in the city, Jake marveling at things Caelen considered ordinary. Time blurred until the bus slowed and rolled to a stop.

They had arrived.

Outside stretched a wide clearing, ringed by forest and touched with the golden haze of late afternoon. Rows of tents stood neatly pitched between tall pines, their canvas pale against the green. A few more buses were parked nearby, unloading passengers into orderly lines.

Jake's eyes lit up. "Whoa. This place is amazing looking."

"Quiet," Caelen cut in, his gaze scanning the arrangement. Everything was already prepared. Workers moved between the tents like clockwork, adjusting ropes, checking supplies.

A tall figure approached, his presence commanding even before he spoke. The man wore ceremonial white, a hat that shadowed his brow but couldn't hide the fall of pale gold hair, and eyes so sharply blue they seemed almost unreal.

"Welcome, children of the light." His voice was warm, deliberate. "I am honored to greet those who will soon be embraced by the goddess herself."

The reply was automatic, trained: "And we are blessed, for Her light finds us through you." Even the bus driver murmured it from his seat.

Caelen mouthed the words but didn't push them past his lips.

"The goddess," the man, Father Luziel continued, "is beyond time. But we are not. That is why you are here to be joined with Her light. Some of you will remain in these tents until the moment comes. This... is the first time in history such a thing will happen."

The murmurs among the group grew hushed. They had all heard the rumors. It was different, hearing them confirmed.

"Yes," Luziel's eyes lifted toward the misted mountain beyond the trees, "the saint is here. She prays for you, even now."

Most craned their necks to glimpse the peak, though mist swallowed it. Caelen didn't bother.

"Ten of you will come with me now. The rest may rest." Luziel's gaze landed briefly on Caelen. "You, child, rest."

Caelen had been about to step forward but halted, jaw tightening. "...Yes, Father."

He and Jake split toward separate tents. Caelen pulled back the flap of his assigned one and stepped inside.

The air was cooler in here, shadows softened by a translucent ceiling that let in the fading light. The mat beneath him was clean and looked softer than anything he had ever seen.

He kicked off his shoes, sank onto the mat. The fabric was softer than expected, almost too soft, like it had been made for someone very important.

The ceiling was thin enough for the last threads of daylight to filter through a faint watercolor of forest canopy and drifting clouds.

From the inside, he could see the outside world clearly.From the outside, no one could see him at all.

It should have felt comforting.

He stared upward for a while, watching light fade from gold to blue.

"I thought I'd be going first," he muttered to no one, the words low but edged with annoyance."I literally collected half the stuff for the ritual, and I can't go first? That's some bullsh—"

He stopped short, eyes darting to the walls. They were thin, and sound carried. Luziel might be close enough to hear, and could hear him cursing.

With a huff, he mumbled his complaints for another two minutes until eventually, the weight of the day caught up to him. He drifted off.

Time passed without his notice. The light dimmed, the outside world grew silent, and eventually—

Rustle.

A soft shuffling sound stirred the edge of his sleep. Something moved within the tent. Then—

"Hey, Caelen. Wake up. Wake up." He didn't stir at first, until—

"—Ow!" His eyes flew open. He didn't need to see her face. Only one person pinched like that. "Emma—what are you?"

A palm pressed to his mouth. Warm, steady.

The tent's dim light softened her features, but her eyes—blue as glass catching moonlight—were sharper tonight. Her hair fell forward, brushing his cheek as she leaned in.

"What are you doing here? And... how long was I out?" His voice was still thick with sleep. He glanced upward the ceiling had gone dark. "It's night?"

She shrugged lightly. "No idea how long. I just came to check on you after I got here."

She shifted closer, hand sliding to his shoulder, coaxing him back down toward the mat.

"Emma—" He pushed himself upright again, pressing his back to the tent wall. "Not now. Has Luziel said anything?"

Her mouth curved in a small frown. "Nothing. But I don't care. I haven't slept next to you in almost two years." She leaned forward, voice lowering. "And you don't want to?"

He sighed, rubbing his brow, "You're a saint, Emma. You know what people would think if they saw you here. And they'd blame me. I'd be gone before morning."

She didn't argue. Just watched him for a bit, then stood slowly, hands folding behind her back.

"Then what if you became a priest?" Her smile was too casual for the weight of her words. "Ask the goddess. Then we could start our own church. Just the two of us."

He stared at her.

Caelen blinked, stunned. "You're... You're insane. You can't even take care of yourself, and you want to own a chur—"

"CAELEN!"

The voice cracked through the night air like a whip.

His pulse spiked. He sprang to his feet, shooting Emma a sharp gesture for silence. She froze.

Outside, the voice came again, calm but carrying. "Child, come. We mustn't delay."

Luziel.

Caelen slipped out through the tent flap. The priest stood among the rows, white robes luminous under the moonlight. His ceremonial hat sat slightly askew, as if he'd been in motion for some time.

"You're awake," Luziel said, his tone smooth but laced with something unreadable. "I wondered how long you'd keep me waiting."

"I—apologies, Father. I must've been more tired than I thought."

"We must hasten." Luziel's hand clamped around his wrist and was firm, almost painful. "The circle's power wanes."

Caelen barely had time to form a reply before he was being pulled between the tents, the priest's pace unnervingly swift. The forest edge loomed before them.

"Uh... Father Luziel, you're kind of crushing my wrist." Caelen winced, glancing down.

The grip released almost immediately.

"Forgive me. I'm simply... eager. You understand." The smile he offered was bright. Too bright.

They stepped beneath the trees. The camp's lantern glow faded behind them.

Caelen glanced back once. In the middle row, a small movement—a hand, pale in the moonlight, slipping from his tent's flap. Emma.

She gave a tiny wave before disappearing again.

He didn't wave back.

The forest pressed in around them was dark, hushed. Not even the wind stirred the leaves.

"Seems like I'm the last," he muttered. No voices. No footsteps but theirs.

Then a scent. Sweet, thick, almost cloying. Not pine, not damp earth. Something floral.

He sniffed. "Do you smell that?"

Luziel's tone was light. "Ah. You noticed. The goddess told me her chosen sometimes sense things others cannot. You're... progressing."

Caelen's mouth formed another question, but the words died.

His gaze dropped.

Something on the path was dark, gleaming in the moonlight. A smear across the dirt.

His chest tightened. He stumbled back, breath catching.

"Is that—"

Luziel turned, his expression open, calm. "Are you unwell?"

Caelen blinked, and the smear was gone. Just dirt and shadow.

He swallowed. "I... thought I saw something. Must've been nothing."

"Good." Luziel smiled again, extending a hand to help him up. Caelen ignored it, rising on his own.

They walked on.

But when Caelen's eyes dropped again, not to the ground, but to the priest's robe—he saw the stain.

Along the hem. Dark. Dried.

Thelowerhemofitwasstained—deep red. Blood.