Morning Misery and an Unexpected Company
Lucas woke up to the gong again.
He sat up, groaning like a wounded animal. His entire body ached, his thighs, arms, even muscles he didn't know he had. Prayer posture training was like a cruel crime against humanity.
Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled into the hallway, robes half-buttoned, hair a mess.
"Saint Lucas! Wait!"
The voice belonged to Finn, the cheerful priest-in-training he met from yesterday. The boy jogged over, bright-eyed, annoyingly awake.
"Are you Ready for day two, Lord Saint?" Finn asked.
"No," Lucas deadpanned.
Finn laughed. "Merilda said you'd probably say that."
"Of course she did."
Finn fell into step beside him as they walked toward the training hall. Lucas wasn't used to people choosing to walk next to him. Back at the Vaskarus estate, other kids kept their distance, either afraid of his father or trying to avoid being dragged into the family's endless political battles.
Here, Finn walked with him like it was natural.
"You know," Finn said, "everyone's curious about you, but they're also intimidated. They've never trained with a Saint before."
Lucas groaned. "I don't even know how to be a Saint."
"That's why you're learning." Finn grinned. "Which, by the way, means you should probably button your robe properly before Merilda sees you."
Lucas swore softly and started fastening the buttons at hyperspeed.
Finn laughed again.
Discipline, Chaos, and… A Girl Named Selene?
Morning lessons were slightly less of a disaster than yesterday.
Only slightly.
Lucas recited the first gospel without dozing off. He only fell over once during the third prayer stance. Merilda still hit him on the shoulder twice with the pointer stick, but that was half of yesterday's count, which he considered a stunning victory.
During break, Finn introduced him to another trainee, a girl around their age with long dark-blonde hair tied neatly behind her head, her expression calm and unreadable.
"This is Selene," Finn said. "She's one of the prodigies here, she memorized the whole first gospel in a week."
Lucas blinked. "A week?"
"I was slow," Selene replied bluntly.
Lucas choked. "Slow?"
Selene shrugged. "You'll catch up."
Finn whispered, "She means that in the nicest way possible."
Selene nodded once, confirming it.
Lucas sighed. "I'll take what I can get."
The three of them sat together, eating the same bland bread and vegetables. But somehow, the food tasted less miserable today. Finn told stories about accidentally lighting a meditation cushion on fire last year. Selene confessed she once slapped a bishop by accident during combat training. Lucas found himself laughing, genuinely laughing and something he hadn't done since… he wasn't sure when.
Maybe being here wouldn't be as lonely as he thought.
Afternoon, A Spark and a Smile
Training moved to the courtyard again.
Merilda instructed Lucas to channel his divinity with greater precision. Yesterday, he only managed a faint glow. Today, he was expected to shape that light, even briefly.
Lucas focused. Warmth gathered in his chest, rising toward his fingertips like a small golden tide. He exhaled.
A tiny flame of sunlight, was no larger than a candle flickered into existence above his palm.
Merilda raised an eyebrow. "Good. Now hold it steady."
Lucas tried.
The flame exploded.
Not violently, but just enough that a gust of warm light blasted outward and knocked over three potted plants.
Finn clapped silently with wide eyes. Selene nodded in approval, though her eyebrow twitch suggested she was resisting the urge to laugh.
Merilda rubbed her temples. "Saint Lucas. You must learn restraint."
Lucas scratched his head sheepishly. "Sorry?"
But he was smiling.
For the first time, the training didn't feel like punishment. It felt… possible. Hopeful, even.
Evening, When News Reaches the Vaskarus Estate
Far away, in the towering halls of the Vaskarus mansion, an old man trembled in his chair.
William Vaskarus, Marquess of the Empire of Senlor, warrior of a hundred battles, executioner of heretics, and ruthless devotee of the Sun Goddess Lia.. had not risen from his bed in two days. His illness had grown heavier, weighing on him like invisible chains.
A soft knock sounded.
"Enter," William rasped.
His butler, the elderly, loyal Thomas Greyling stepped inside, holding parchment sealed with the golden emblem of the Church.
"Master," Thomas said gently. "The Cathedral has sent urgent news."
William's fingers twitched. "Read it."
Thomas cleared his throat and began.
"'To the House of Vaskarus. Be it known that during the Divinity Awakening Ceremony held this morning, Lucas Von Vaskarus has been chosen as—'"
The butler hesitated.
William closed his eyes. His voice shook. "Continue."
"'—the Saint of the Sun Goddess Lia.'"
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Holy.
Unbelievable.
The parchment slipped from Thomas's hand.
William's breath hitched. His eyes widened, staring not at the room around him, but somewhere far away, somewhere in his past. A young man kneeling before the sun altar. A desperate prayer. A lifelong dream.
For a moment, he looked small.
Fragile.
Human.
"A Saint…" he whispered. "Lia… finally… after all these years…"
Tears began to form. Just one at first, a single drop slipping down the side of a man who had never cried in public, never cried before battle, never cried at funerals.
But this…
This was different.
A Saint had not appeared in generations. William had spent his youth striving for that honor.. praying, training, sacrificing but yet the goddess had never chosen him.
And Yet she chose his son.
His illegitimate son.
His fallen lineage's last hope.
Thomas placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Congratulations, my lord. The Sun Goddess has blessed your bloodline."
William swallowed hard. "Lucas… that boy… He will bring glory. He must."
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, breath shuddering.
"Thomas," he whispered, voice cracking, "prepare a gift for the Cathedral. Something worthy of the Sun Goddess. My boy… my son… he has done it."
The old butler bowed, understanding the weight behind his master's trembling smile.
Night, Where Lucas Doesn't Know Anything.
Back in the Cathedral, Lucas laid in bed staring at the ceiling, tired yet strangely content.
He didn't feel like a Saint.
He didn't feel divine.
He didn't feel holy or perfect or destined.
But he had friends now.
Finn's laughter. Selene's blunt honesty. Merilda's rare, tiny signs of approval.
He felt… like a person again.
Lucas rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
"Saint Lucas," he muttered sarcastically. "Sure."
Tomorrow would bring more training.
More doctrine.
More pain.
But for the first time, he felt ready for it.
Because he wasn't alone.
And far away, a father who had once given up hope now believed again, because of him.
The world was changing.
And the story? Has finally began.