THE FIRST CALL OF THE TWELVE
Psalm 32 verse 8 (NIV)
"I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with My loving eye on you."
---
Kaelith woke to soft light.
Not the red glow of witch-lamps.
Not the sharp reek of incense.
Not the cold breath of the Veil humming in the walls.
Just… morning.
Birdsong drifted through the window.
Warmth touched her cheek.The sound of someone chopping wood echoed from far off, ordinary and gentle.
For a long moment, she lay still, staring at the simple ceiling beams, unable to understand how sleep had taken her without fear.
Ashley sat nearby, polishing a small silverware with restless hands.
When she noticed Kaelith stirring, she froze.
"You're awake," she said softly.
Kaelith tried to sit up and winced at the pull in her burned palm.
Ashley moved to help, then stopped halfway between instinct and hesitation.
"I'm fine," Kaelith muttered, though her voice cracked like thin ice.
Ashley studied her.
"No you're not. But you're here. And that's something."
Kaelith looked away.
The simple room felt too honest. Too clean.
"I should not be alive," she said.
Ashley swallowed. "Neither should I. But mercy didn't ask for our permission."
Kaelith pressed her injured hand to her chest.
"I don't know how to live anywhere that doesn't command me."
"Then learn," Ashley whispered. "With us."
Kaelith's breath trembled.
She said nothing, but her shoulders loosened — the smallest surrender.
The villagers outside murmured cautiously.
"Now two witches roam our village."
"Witches once,but not anymore ."
"Elena said,mercy saved them."
"We should have burn them on a stake."
"But it was mercy that saved us too. In the past. You better don't let anyone hear you."
" You are right." So the conversation ended.
They knew a witch slept among them, yet they brought water and bread to the door all the same.
Awe mixed with fear.
Fear mixed with curiosity.
Curiosity mixed with something strangely close to hope.
By mid-morning, the villagers stood in a half-circle inside the church the way people stand at the edge of something sacred.
Not fearful.
Not entirely confident.
Just aware that something was happening that would shape the road ahead.
Elena stood at the altar, the Canticle in her hands.
Her brown eyes were steady but shadowed with a new kind of weight — a calling that had finally settled into her bones.
Beside her stood three chosen ones:
Ye , steady, straightforward, heart loud with quiet devotion.
Regbolo ,humbled, newly whole, faith glowing through scars.
Evelyn , her mother, soft-spoken, strong in ways only mercy teaches.
Kaelith and Ashley watched from the far corner.
Kaelith kept her head lowered, unused to witnessing gentleness without being its target.
The villagers held their breath.
"What do you think,she wants to do?"
"Let's wait and see.'
Elena lifted her voice.
"Three are called today. Not for power. Not for rule. But for service."
The villagers nodded.
The Canticle fluttered open on its own, pages turning until they stilled at the Fourth Song.
Elena's voice hummed through the timbers:
"She shall say, Let there be faith again,
and creation will answer, Amen."
The air warmed — not blinding, not loud — just enough to make every heart in the room beat slower.
Elena turned first to Ye.
"Step forward."
He did, jaw tight with humility.
A small light shimmered above his right hand — like a breath made visible — then sank gently into his palm.
Not fire.
Not brilliance.
Just certainty.
Ye whispered, "I will carry it."
And the light answered with a quiet pulse.
Next, Regbolo approached.
His hands shook.
He had expected condemnation, not calling.
As he knelt, a warm wind moved through the church — a single gust — lifting the edge of his tunic and brushing his face.
Regbolo gasped.
The villagers saw it.
A weight lifting.
A past loosening.
A man unshackled.
Elena touched the air above his bowed head.
"Rise. Not as who you were, but as who you are becoming."
Regbolo rose with tears bright in his lashes.
Finally, Evelyn stepped forward.
A mother.
A survivor.
A woman who prayed when others broke.
As she stood before her daughter, a soft glow formed around her shoulders — like a shawl woven of sunlight.
Micah whispered from the pews, "The mantle of consolation…"
Elena softened.
"Your kindness has brought many home, Mother. Now let it guide you on the road."
Evelyn bowed her head, voice trembling with devotion.
"Let me serve."
The light embraced her gently, then faded.
No spectacle.
No fanfare.
The First Three Apostles had been called.
After the Ceremony,the villagers poured outside, buzzing with soft joy, hands touching shoulders, voices lifting in steady gratitude.
Kaelith lingered by the doorway, unsure if she belonged here.
Ashley nudged her gently.
"It's alright to watch," she whispered. "Even to want this."
Kaelith's jaw tightened.
"I want nothing."
Ashley gave her a thin, knowing smile.
"You keep saying that. Yet here you are."
Kaelith looked away, but she didn't leave.
---
When the crowd thinned, Elena slipped beyond the church and walked toward the ridge — the same ridge where the mountain once groaned and warned.
The air cooled.
The wind whispered through the pines.
She knelt.
"Show me," she prayed. "If there is more, show me the road."
The Breathlight rose — faint gold glimmering around her like a thin veil.
And she saw it:
A long road stretching beyond Mahogany.
A storm rolling over distant plains.
And a figure walking ahead of her, footsteps steady, voice unspoken but unmistakable.
Not commanding.
Calling.
When the vision faded, her breath left her in a rush.
"It is time," she whispered.
---
Far away , n the House of Blood, deep beneath crimson stone, the floor trembled once.
Barely.
Like a heartbeat waking from sleep.
The ruby veins in the walls pulsed with a darker shade.
Whispers slid through the corridors like hungry wind.
A servant froze on the stairs.
"Matron?" she whispered to the emptiness.
No answer came.
But something had shifted.
Something old.
Something dangerous.
Something watching the rise of faith with growing interest — and growing wrath.
Seraphine had not spoken yet.
But the Veiled Mother's silence…
…was no longer passive.
The First Three Apostles had been called.
The road ahead had opened.
And somewhere in the shadows, the war stirred its first breath.