"Mama… will I get to see Damien at the baptism?" the young boy asked, staring into the deep blue eyes of his mother.
A soft voice answered, warm but tired. "Of course, dear. Why wouldn't you?"
Kael's eyes wandered to the streets around them. The vendors' stalls were overflowing with colors—crimson fabrics, golden trinkets, shiny beads that glinted in the sunlight. The spices smelled strong, sweet and bitter at the same time, making his stomach rumble. Children darted between carts, squealing as they chased small, yapping dogs. A cat hissed as it leapt from a pile of oranges, sending one rolling into the crowd. Kael jumped back, nearly tripping over a cobblestone, and giggled nervously.
"Mama's hands felt warm. But why do they tremble sometimes? Does she miss Papa like I do?" he wondered, stealing a glance at her face. Adults never tell the truth. Why would they?
"Mama… have you been thinking about Papa again?"
A flash of annoyance crossed her face, gone before Kael could notice. "Of course I haven't, dear. But what I have been thinking about," she said, voice steady again, "is the cheeky little child who hasn't been listening to his mother recently. Haven't I told you not to bring up that man?"
Noticing the shift in her tone, the child wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Papa hasn't been home in so long… where is he?
"You know already that I refuse to answer that question. Why must you insist on asking at every waking moment?" Her tone was sharp, and Kael noticed the faint tremor in it.
He whined, "You don't tell me anything, though!"
She exhaled, frustration seeping through for a heartbeat before she forced a smile. "Let us not speak of this again. Today is your baptism—you should be excited."
The streets were alive with movement. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking roasted meats, shiny fabrics, and small trinkets. Kael paused to watch a boy spin a wooden top, his laughter ringing through the air. A vendor waved a handful of coins, arguing over a missing gold piece. Why do adults always argue about money? Kael thought.
The bells tolled in the distance, heavy and deep. Each toll seemed to crawl up his arms and settle in his chest. It was too heavy… too sharp. Why does it feel angry? he wondered, shivering. Shadows flickered strangely between the buildings as the sunlight bent across rooftops, and for a moment Kael felt the air tighten around him, like the city itself was holding its breath.
His mother moved with practiced ease, stepping around pedestrians as though the city were a stage. Kael tried to match her steps, scuffing his small boots against the uneven stones. He noticed the smells of roasted meat, sweet pastries, and burning incense mingling in the air. Each scent tugged at memories he didn't fully understand.
Beyond the crowd, the tall spires of the Temple of Compassion rose toward the sky, pale stone gleaming in the afternoon light. Long banners of soft pink and white flapped gently in the wind, fraying at the edges like old paper. Smoke from braziers curled in slow, lazy ribbons toward the heavens. Kael tilted his head, watching sunlight scatter through the stained glass windows, casting dancing colors on the cobblestones. He could see priests guiding families forward, robes swaying, and children whispering excitedly to one another.
He squeezed his mother's hand. "I wanted to be brave, but my stomach was twisting like a knot."
"I wonder what it looks like inside," he thought, peering at the distant doors hidden by the crowd. "I hope Damien is here… but what if he's not?"
A boy suddenly barreled into him, sending him stumbling against a fruit cart. "Hey! Watch it!" Kael exclaimed, but the boy grinned, dark brown hair bouncing in the light.
"For Pride's sake, do you even brush your teeth?" the boy teased.
Kael wrinkled his nose. "Common man, you lived with my mother for six months when she went to Altasia. You saw me brush!"
The boy laughed, nudging him. "Ugh, you have no compassion, yet you're going to a baptism?"
A hollow ache spread through Kael's chest, a strange, cold feeling. Quickly, he tried to change the subject. "Hey… what's the point of baptisms anyway?"
Damien leaned closer, eyes glinting with mischief and fear. "I'll tell you something most grown-ups won't. A long time ago, the world was broken. People killed, starved, ruined everything. Then ten gods came down from the ashes. They gave us gifts—Imagination, Wisdom, Strength, Pride, Progress, Compassion, Creation, Pleasure, Magic, and Kindness. They chose saints, humans like us but stronger. When the saints turned twenty-one, their souls opened, and they touched their first amora. That's how the world learned power again."
Kael's mouth fell open. "And… if we're baptized, we'll get chosen too?"
Damien shrugged. "Maybe. If the gods like you."
Kael's small hands clenched around his sleeves. If the gods like me… I'll make sure no one ever leaves me again. A shiver ran down his spine.
The bells tolled again, even deeper, vibrating through his chest and arms. Each echo rolled through the streets like a warning. Something is wrong… but I don't know what.
Kael squinted at the temple spires in the distance. Banners snapped in the wind, sunlight fractured into colored patterns by the stained glass. Families moved forward, murmuring excitedly, while priests guided the crowd. He could feel the pulse of the city beneath his feet, the chaos and the smells and the heat pressing in.
He glanced at his mother's face. She looked tired, her brow furrowed slightly as she navigated the crowd. Mama is always so strong… but she's tired. Why is she tired all the time?
For now, the cathedral remained just a promise, looming above the city like a quiet giant. Kael squeezed his mother's hand again, feeling both fear and wonder. I wanted to be brave… I hope Damien is here… I hope nothing bad happens.
And so they walked on, the streets alive around them, unaware that the quiet, fragile world they knew was about to change forever.
As the cathedral gates opened, people flowed into the courtyard grounds like a gentle river, the calling priests in their white and pink-accented robes leading the children to a great oak near the left wing of the courtyard. Some children ran eagerly ahead, while others clung tightly to their parents' sleeves. One little girl refused to let go of her mother's dress until a priest gently coaxed her forward.
"Oh, little one, why are you so afraid?" the priest said gently.
"I don't want to go alone," she whispered. "What if I can't find Papa after?"
"Don't worry, dear. I will be right here waiting for you to come back with my big strong arm," the father said while flexing his arms to prove his point.
Another child was fearfully clutching her mother's leg, shrinking back from the priest's touch.
"What is wrong, child? Why do you fear me so much?"
The young girl responded, "My brother said the gods look straight into your soul," the girl whispered, eyes wide. "What if they don't like what they see?"
At that the priest chuckled. "Oh, dear child, this is the Church of Compassion. Have faith, for all that is in her presence is under care."
And, contrarily, rowdy children were rushing forward yelling all sorts of things.
"When I get baptised, I will be the greatest saint in history!" a young boy said in a huff.
"Pfft, as if. You wouldn't even make do as the town guard, and you believe you could be a saint?" a girl quickly responded.
"Oh, I so could do that and much more! In fact, I can beat you to that tree over there," the boy responded indignantly.
Cornering the boy in her trap, the young girl then said, "Oh really? Well then, last one there buys the other sugar candy from the cart down the road."
Immediately the two children set off.
Then a voice called out toward the gathered crowd.
"CHILDREN, MOVE TO THE COURTYARD BY THE GREAT OAK! DON'T WORRY, YOUR PARENTS WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY!" a man in priestly attire spoke, his voice carrying more than it should have.
Kael wondered, Why is he so loud when he isn't yelling?
As though in response to the silent question, a passing man explained to his child, "That is compassion, child. It isn't in your ear you hear it, but your heart."
Did everyone else feel that?
It felt like someone had spoken directly inside him.
"My heart?" Kael wondered in shock as he pressed a hand to his chest. Suddenly a hollow ache made itself known, like a ripple in a lake. The disruption spread outward, reaching even the hair upon his head.
Staring dazedly, Kael wondered, What is this feeling? Why do I suddenly feel weak?
Standing up straighter than before to correct his unstable footing, Kael pushed forward toward the oak.
At its foot, just as he was about to settle in under one of its vast branches, a young boy ran into him.
"Urghhh!"
"Arghhh!"
"Who is that idio—? Of course it's you, Damien. Who else would straight-up run into another person like that?"
"What could you possibly mean by that?" a young boy with dark brown hair and emerald eyes retorted, an indignant look on his face as though saying, Try me. Let's see if I do it again.
And Kael knew he would.
"Ugh, whatever. Never mind. And to think I even hoped you would be here. Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"For the baptism, of course. You do realise we are the same age, don't you?"
"How could I forget? Not like you don't try to remind me of how your one-month-earlier birthday makes you my 'senior,'" Kael responded, making sure to air-quote to get his sarcasm across.
"No need to do all that. It's not like I'm wrong. I'm even ahead of you in school — a whole year at that," Damien said, a smug grin resting happily on his face.
For compassion's sake, I wish I could punch that smile off.
Feeling the imminent danger approaching, Damien quickly changed the subject.
"Hey, do you know why we do baptisms at twelve?"
A few of the nearby children perked up at the question. One boy shuffled closer, pretending not to listen while very clearly listening. Another girl leaned against the oak tree trunk, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Damien noticed immediately.
Of course he noticed.
His chest puffed up slightly, the way it always did when he realized he had an audience.
"Well," Damien said slowly, lowering his voice like someone about to reveal a great secret, "I might know."
Kael groaned.
"No. Do you? Because Mama just said it was important. She never told me why."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
That tone.
Damien always used that tone when he was about to start explaining something for far too long.
A couple of the other children edged even closer now. One of them whispered, "Is he going to tell the saint story?"
Damien heard that too.
His grin widened.
"Oh, I'm definitely telling the saint story."
Kael sighed loudly.
Damien's eyes gleamed. He glanced left and right conspiratorially, making sure no priests were close enough to hear.
Then he leaned closer to Kael and lowered his voice into an exaggerated whisper.
The nearby children leaned in with him.
Even Kael, despite himself, leaned a little closer.
Damien looked extremely pleased with this development.
"Then listen. I'll tell you something most grown-ups won't. A long time ago, the world was broken. People killed, starved, ruined everything. But then ten gods came down from the ashes of that world. They gave us gifts — Imagination, Wisdom, Strength, Pride, Progress, Compassion, Creation, Pleasure, Magic, and Kindness.
"To guide us, they chose saints — humans like us, but stronger. When those saints turned twenty-one, their souls opened and they touched their first Amora. That's how the world learned power again."
For a moment none of the children spoke.
Then a boy behind them whispered, "My brother said the Saint of Strength once punched a mountain."
Another kid immediately said, "That's stupid. Mountains are bigger than people."
Damien scoffed.
"You're both wrong," he said confidently.
Neither Kael nor the other children had any idea if that was true, but Damien said it with such confidence that no one challenged him.
Kael's mouth hung open.
"And… if we're baptized, we'll get chosen too?"
Damien shrugged.
"Maybe. If the gods like you."
Kael frowned at him.
"You just made half of that up, didn't you?"
Damien gasped dramatically.
"I did not."
"You definitely did."
"I improved it."
"That means you made it up."
Damien crossed his arms proudly.
"Details."
One of the nearby kids giggled.
Thinking on this matter seriously, Kael thought, Maybe if I can be chosen, I could…
A strange vibration passed through the courtyard.
It was subtle, like the quiet hum of something enormous waking up far away.
The children didn't notice.
But Kael did.
The feeling crept up his arms and settled uneasily in his chest.
The bells above the cathedral suddenly stopped ringing.
Damien looked up.
"That's weird," he muttered.
Just then, a strange silence fell over the courtyard.
The bells that had been ringing since morning stopped all at once.
Not faded.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Several people looked up.
The stained-glass windows of the cathedral shimmered in the sunlight, their colors dancing across the stone walls. For a moment, everything seemed peaceful again.
Then the glass began to glow.
At first it was faint, like sunlight trapped inside the panels. Reds deepened. Blues darkened. Golds burned brighter than they should have.
A low tremor rolled through the ground beneath their feet.
Kael felt it before he heard it.
The vibration crawled up his legs and into his chest, the same strange heaviness from earlier suddenly returning twice as strong.
"What is—"
KABOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
The cathedral windows erupted outward in a violent storm of glass and fire.
Shards of stained glass screamed through the air like knives as a deafening shockwave tore across the courtyard. The blast slammed into the crowd, knocking people from their feet.
Children screamed.
Parents shouted.
Smoke and dust swallowed the sky.
Kael hit the ground hard, the air punched from his lungs. His ears rang so loudly he couldn't hear anything else for a moment.
Then the screaming started.
People surged toward the exits in blind panic. Parents trampled over each other trying to reach their children. Priests shouted desperately, trying to restore order, but their voices were drowned in the chaos.
Someone fell near Kael.
Another person stepped on them without even noticing.
The courtyard had become a storm of bodies pushing in every direction at once.
Then came the fire.
Flames burst from the shattered cathedral roof, crawling hungrily across the ancient stone like living things. Heat rolled through the courtyard in suffocating waves as smoke poured into the sky.
And above the burning cathedral…
Something appeared.
At first Kael thought it was just fire rising with the smoke.
But the flames began to twist.
To gather.
To take shape.
A towering figure formed within the inferno, an effigy of living flame suspended above the cathedral spires. The heat around it bent the air itself, warping the sky like rippling water.
Then it screamed.
The sound was not human.
It tore through the courtyard like a blade, piercing directly into the minds of everyone who heard it.
People clutched their heads.
Some collapsed instantly.
Others began screaming back, their voices twisted with madness.
The crowd erupted into violence.
People shoved.
Punched.
Bit.
Some attacked complete strangers without even realizing it.
Kael covered his ears, but it didn't help.
The scream was inside his head.
And then—
"KAEL!"
The voice cut through the chaos like a thread of light.
His head snapped toward the cathedral entrance.
"MAMA!" Kael shouted, scrambling to his feet. "I'M AT THE TREE!"
Through the smoke he saw her.
His mother burst from the cathedral doors, her dress torn and stained with blood. She staggered forward into the courtyard, coughing violently as dust and smoke followed her out of the shattered entrance.
"DON'T MOVE!" she cried. "I'M COMING!"
She ran toward him.
For a moment Kael believed she would make it.
Then the archway behind her cracked.
A thunderous CRACK split the air as the cathedral entrance collapsed inward.
Stone and timber exploded outward in a violent shockwave that hurled her across the courtyard.
She struck the ground hard near the broken corridor entrance.
"MAMA!"
Kael ran.
The rushing crowd slammed into him from every direction. Knees struck his ribs. Someone shoved him to the ground.
But he forced himself forward, pushing against the tide of bodies like a fish swimming against a raging current.
"Mama! Mama!"
Finally he reached her.
She lay half-buried beneath fallen stone, blood soaking through what remained of her dress.
Her breathing was shallow.
Her eyes found him.
"Kael…" she whispered.
"I'll get help!" he cried desperately. "I'll get a priest! A doctor! Anyone — just wait here!"
His mother weakly shook her head.
Her trembling hand reached for his.
"Listen… to me."
Kael grabbed her hand tightly.
"Always have compassion, my son," she whispered softly. "It will guide you… even when the world does not."
Then, with the last of her strength—
She pulled his hand forward.
And drove it into her chest.
Kael froze.
Shock ripped through him as his hand pierced straight through her body.
For a moment he could not breathe.
Could not think.
Could not understand.
Then her body dissolved.
Light burst outward from her chest, her form breaking apart into thousands of glowing fragments that drifted into the air like embers.
Where she had been—
A small pink crystal fell to the ground.
It pulsed softly with warm light.
Kael stared at it, his mind empty.
The crystal lifted from the ground.
And flew into his hand.
The moment his fingers touched it—
The crystal shattered.
Light exploded into his body.
Pain followed.
Agony tore through every nerve in his body as the light forced its way deeper and deeper into him, diving past flesh and bone into the deepest chasm of his soul.
Kael screamed.
The world disappeared.
And in the darkness of his mind—
A voice spoke.
Soft.
Cold.
Uncaring.
"Amora: Broken Mirror — unlocked."