Two nights before Revelation Day.
Rain slid down the stone steps of the Cathedral of Everlasting Life, turning them slick and silver beneath the moon. Mihel climbed slowly, his footsteps careful, measured.
Ahead of him, his parents ascended in silence, heads bowed, hands folded, already smaller beneath the weight of the place.
The Cathedral gates towered above him.
Mihel craned his neck upward.
Carved into both sides of the massive entrance stood the Lady of Everlasting Life. Her hair flowed to her waist, some strands braided with deliberate care. A loose skirt wrapped her form, unmoving despite the storm.
Her hands were cupped and outstretched toward the world, and resting in her palms was a perfect sphere.
Within it, Mihel could just make out tiny shapes. Humans. Animals. Plants. Life itself.
The rain thickened, turning sharp and cold.
Mihel hurried after his parents.
Just before crossing the threshold, lightning split the sky.
For a single breath, the stone eyes of the Lady seemed to move.
Mihel froze.
A sensation crept up his spine, cold and invasive, as though something unseen had noticed him.
Then the thunder struck, and the moment shattered.
He stepped inside.
The entrance corridor stretched long and narrow, lit by soft lanterns. His parents were already near the altar, speaking in hushed tones with Father Mirysis.
Mihel slowed, his eyes drifting to the murals lining the walls.
They depicted the Lady's miracles. The spread of her doctrines. Life restored, wounds healed, death denied.
He had walked this corridor many times before.
Yet every visit made his chest tighten.
The paintings pressed in on him, their certainty suffocating, as though the doctrines themselves were compressing his lungs. He forced himself forward.
The main hall opened wide before him. By morning it gleamed gold, alive with hymns and light. Tonight, it was quiet. Serene.
Almost watchful.
As Mihel approached the altar, pressure settled over him.
Not physical. Something deeper.
The weight of Destiny. The weight exuded by the Father simply by existing.
He knelt and touched his forehead to the cold stone at Father Mirysis's feet.
A firm hand lifted him upright.
"So," the Bishop said warmly, "your Revelation Day arrives the day after tomorrow, eh, son?"
His voice echoed softly through the hall. "Worry not. The fair Lady will shower her blessings upon thee, and thou shalt be full of life forevermore."
He paused.
Mihel swallowed and completed the verse.
"And thou shalt live as one with the populace, and one for the populace, spreading the grace of the Lady."
He exhaled. "Life with Others, Chapter Four, Verse Twelve, Father Mirysis."
The Bishop smiled, pleased. "Well spoken. Your Destiny will be a great blessing to all, Mihel. Just like your faithful parents."
He raised his hands.
"Let us pray."
They huddled together, heads bowed, eyes closed.
Father Mirysis's voice rose, resonant and commanding.
"O Lady who watches over her people, we pray unto thee this night. Grant a wondrous future to these faithful children. Let them witness thy glory and become living testimony to thy goodness. O Lady, appear once more."
"And bless us again," Mihel whispered, his parents echoing the words beside him.
The Father touched his heart once and the tapped the heads of the three of them. He opened his eyes and smiled.
When it was over, Mihel stepped outside into the rain. His parents remained behind, duties waiting. After all, they served this very Cathedral.
In the small village of Wahum, the Fountain of Everlasting Life was the only church that was significant.
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Mihel snapped back to the present. The image of Father Mirysis praying slowly moved away from his mind.
His breath caught as the Slate hovered before him. He grabbed it. Anticipation building up.
A letter formed.
'H'
Then another.
'He'
Relief flooded his chest. It was going to be Healer, his parents would be proud.
And then the letters vanished. Sudden, almost ferociously.
The surface darkened. 'What?'
New words carved themselves into the Slate.
'Destiny not found'
Mihel stared. 'Not found?'
'What?'
'Is that even possible?'
Around him, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Smug smiles. Quiet tears. Everyone was absorbed in their own revelation.
Nobody realising what had happened to Mihel.
Mihel turned sharply to Riche.
"Riche? Everything good?"
Riche flinched, gripping his Slate too tightly. "Oh. Yeah. No problems. Just—"
'GONG'
The sound rang out, silencing the square.
Their highest mentor stood before the gate, hands clasped behind his back.
"My students," he announced, "we have grown together for many years. The bonds we share will not fade easily." His gaze swept across them. "From this day onward, you must use your powers for the wellbeing of this nation."
He paused. Scanning the faces of all the students, the ones entrusted to carry on the Exousia.
"Finally, I must ask. Are there any among you who have received Specific Fates?"
Silence.
Mihel frowned.
'Specific? What's that? Haha, I don't even have a Fate written.'
He glanced at Riche and caught a flicker of recognition in his friend's eyes.
'He knows something.'
"Riche," Mihel whispered. "You know what that is?"
After a long pause, Riche nodded. "I'll explain later."
The mentor sighed, disappointment briefly clouding his expression.
"Very well. I will write to your families, advising the best path forward."
He straightened. "Remember the words of our last king: Fate needs to be challenged. My part ends here, fare thee well."
He performed the standard salute, of moving the left hand across the chest starting from the right.
"Salutis Exousia!"
The students echoed the words, voices ringing against the morning sky.
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They walked home in silence until the path emptied, until only Mihel and Riche were going in that direction.
"So," Mihel said at last, forcing a smile. "What Destiny did you get?"
Riche exhaled. "Angel."
Mihel stopped.
Angel Destinies were rare. Obscure. The only known people were probably the highest members of the Holy Order.
And nobody had seen even them.
Their followers were extremely devout and had heightened levels of faith, though they have almost no contact with an actual Angel Destined.
'But why would Riche be chosen for an Angel'
"That's incredible," Mihel said,out loud. "But doesn't that mean joining the Holy Order is the only way to increase your Circle? They're… intense. And…orthodox as well."
Riche laughed. "So says the walking history archive. I'll figure something out. It's not like I go to another church already." He grinned, then tilted his head. "Alright. Your turn."
Mihel's throat tightened.
"Well… something went wrong. My Slate showed 'He' for a second. Then it disappeared. After that it said Destiny not found."
Riche froze.
"…That's not possible."
His face drained of colour.
"What's wrong?" Mihel asked.
Riche forced a smile, hands shaking. "Nothing. Cold breeze, that's all." He changed the subject too quickly.
"You wanted to know about Specific Fates, right?"
Mihel nodded slowly.
"They're not just paths," Riche said. "They're events. Something you're destined to do."
His voice dropped.
"My mother said that's why my father never came back."
The silence continued until they reached the place they had to turn in opposite ways.
Mihel waved goodbye and took the left path to his house.
Mihel had sensed it from the moment they had left their Skola.