The bus swayed gently, the hum of its engine a dull drone beneath the chatter and occasional laughter that filled the vehicle. Late afternoon sun, golden and heavy, streamed through the windows, casting long shadows from the passing trees.
The passengers were mostly young, their faces a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. They were children of the church, on a pilgrimage they'd been promised their whole lives.
By a window on the left side, a young man sat in silence. His hair was as black as pitch, and his eyes, equally dark, held a depth that seemed to absorb the light around him. He didn't seek attention, but he commanded it nonetheless.
Girls, even the shyest ones who pretended to study their hands, stole glances, their minds wandering to impossible futures.
His name was Caelen, and his gaze was fixed on the blurring forest outside, his thoughts a world away.
A commotion broke his reverie as a lanky boy his own age slid into the empty seat beside him. "Caelen! Hey, man, did you see that building over there?" Without waiting for an answer, the boy, Jake, leaned across him, his finger tapping the glass.
Caelen flinched back. "Jake, can you not grab my face? I'm looking at it." He followed the pointing finger to a sleek, glass-sided structure piercing the skyline on the other side of the bus. "And no, it's just another building. You've pointed out at least twelve already."
Jake pulled back with an infectious, sheepish grin. "Sorry! I guess I'm just not used to any of this. I barely leave the church grounds. Everything's… kind of amazing out here."
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Caelen's lips. "You'll find out soon enough. The outside world isn't always as exciting as you think."
"Maybe not," Jake conceded, his enthusiasm undampened. "But once we get the goddess's blessing, we'll be strong enough to handle anything. Maybe even make enough money to help the church more."
"Mm," Caelen murmured, a non-committal sound that held no promise.
The journey continued, the two falling into an easy rhythm. Caelen teased Jake about the strange foods he'd encounter in the city; Jake marveled at things Caelen considered mundane.
The familiar banter was a comfortable shield against the uncertainty of their destination. Time lost meaning until the bus's engine sighed and the vehicle rolled to a final stop.
They had arrived.
Before them stretched a wide clearing, nestled at the edge of an ancient forest. The air was clean and carried the scent of pine and damp earth. Neat rows of pale canvas tents stood between the tall trees, a temporary city bathed in the day's last golden light. Other buses were parked nearby, their passengers already forming orderly lines.
Jake's eyes widened. "Whoa. This place is… it's something else."
"Quiet," Caelen cut in, his own gaze sweeping the scene with a more critical eye. Everything was meticulously prepared. Figures in simple robes moved between the tents with quiet efficiency, checking ropes and supplies like a well-practiced ritual.
A sense of profound stillness hung over the clearing, at odds with the number of people present.
A man approached, his presence silencing the murmured conversations before he even spoke. He was tall and wore robes of pristine white, a stark contrast against the green and brown of the forest.
A wide-brimmed ceremonial hat shadowed his brow, but couldn't conceal the fall of his pale gold hair or the piercing, almost unreal blue of his eyes.
"Welcome, children of the light." His voice was warm, deliberate, carrying effortlessly across the crowd. "I am Father Luziel. It is my profound honor to greet those who will soon be embraced by the goddess herself."
The response was a trained, automatic chorus from the gathered youths: "And we are blessed, for Her light finds us through you." Even the bus driver, still in his seat, muttered the words with practiced devotion.
Caelen mouthed the words, but they died silently on his tongue.
"The goddess," Father Luziel continued, his gaze sweeping over them, "exists beyond time. But we, her humble servants, are bound by its flow. That is why you are here—to be joined with Her eternal light. Some of you will remain in these tents until the moment of grace arrives." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "This… is the first time in our history such a gathering has been called. A new age dawns."
A hushed, excited murmur rippled through the group. They had all heard the rumors, but hearing the confirmation from a figure of Luziel's authority made it real.
"Yes," Luziel said, his eyes lifting towards a mist-shrouded mountain peak in the distance. "The saint is among us. Even now, she prays for your safe passage and pure hearts."
Most of the youths craned their necks, trying to glimpse the sacred peak, though the mist swallowed it whole. Caelen didn't bother. His attention was fixed on the priest.
"Ten of you will come with me now," Luziel announced. "The rest, find your assigned tents and rest. Your time will come." His gaze, sharp and assessing, landed briefly on Caelen, who had instinctively taken a half-step forward. "You, child. Rest."
Caelen halted, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "…Yes, Father."
He and Jake shared a look before splitting up, heading towards separate tents. Caelen pushed aside the heavy canvas flap of his assigned shelter and stepped into the dim, quiet space.
The air inside was cooler. A soft mat lay in the center, and the tent's ceiling was a thin, translucent material that let in the fading daylight, painting the interior with a soft, watercolor glow. It was far more comfortable than anything he was used to.
He kicked off his worn shoes and sank onto the mat. The fabric was surprisingly soft, almost luxurious. He lay back, staring up at the ceiling, watching the light shift from gold to a deep, twilight blue. From inside, he could see the outside world clearly. From outside, no one could see in.
It should have felt safe. It felt like a cage.
"I thought I'd be going first," he muttered to the empty tent, his voice low and thick with annoyance. "I literally collected half the ritual components, and I get sent to bed like a child? That's some bullsh—"
He cut himself off, eyes darting to the thin canvas walls. Sound carried. Luziel, with his unnaturally sharp senses, could be anywhere. He grumbled under his breath for another minute before the exhaustion of the journey finally pulled him into a fitful sleep.
He didn't know how long he was out. The light through the ceiling had vanished, replaced by the deep blue of full night, when a sound stirred him.
Rustle.
A soft shuffling movement within the tent. Then—
"Hey, Caelen. Wake up."
He didn't stir, lost in the depths of sleep, until—
"—Ow!" His eyes flew open. He didn't need to see her face. Only one person pinched with that particular, impatient pressure. "Emma—what are you—?"
A warm palm pressed firmly over his mouth, silencing him.
In the dim light filtering through the tent fabric, her features were softened, but her eyes—a sharp, crystalline blue—were intense. Her hair, a cascade of gold, brushed his cheek as she leaned in.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered, her hand still muffling his words. He glanced upward at the dark ceiling. "How long was I out? It's night?"
She shrugged, the gesture light and unconcerned. "No idea. I just came to check on you after I got settled." Her hand moved from his mouth to his shoulder, applying gentle pressure, coaxing him back down.
"Emma—" He resisted, pushing himself upright until his back was against the tent wall. "Not now. Has Luziel said anything? What's happening?"
A small frown touched her lips. "Nothing. But I don't care about that. I haven't slept next to you in almost two years." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that was both intimate and pleading. "And you don't want to?"
He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're the saint, Emma. You know what would happen if anyone saw you in here. They'd blame me. I'd be cast out before morning."
She didn't argue, just watched him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stood slowly, her hands folding behind her back in a gesture that was both innocent and deliberate.
"Then what if you became a priest?" Her smile was too casual, too bright for the weight of her question. "Ask the goddess. Then we could start our own church. Just the two of us."
He stared at her, disbelief warring with a strange, aching fondness.
Caelen blinked, stunned. "You're... You're insane. You can't even take care of yourself most days, and you want to run a chur—"
"CAELEN!"
The voice cracked through the silent night like a whip, sharp and absolute.
His heart slammed against his ribs. He sprang to his feet, shooting Emma a sharp, silencing look. She froze, her eyes wide.
Outside, the voice came again, calm but carrying an undeniable edge of command. "Child, come. We mustn't delay."
Luziel.
Caelen slipped out through the tent flap. The priest stood between the neat rows of tents, his white robes seeming to glow in the moonlight. His ceremonial hat was slightly askew, as if he'd been moving with purpose.
"You're awake," Luziel said, his tone smooth but layered with something unreadable. "I wondered how long you'd keep me waiting."
"I—apologies, Father. I must have been more tired than I realized."
"The celestial alignments are precise. The circle's power wanes. We must hasten." Before Caelen could form a reply, Luziel's hand shot out, clamping around his wrist. The grip was firm, unyielding, bordering on painful.
"Uh... Father Luziel, you're kind of crushing my wrist," Caelen winced, trying to pull back slightly.
The grip released instantly.
"Forgive me," Luziel said, his smile returning, bright and disarming. "I am simply… eager for you to receive this blessing. You understand."
They moved quickly, leaving the ordered tent city behind and stepping into the dark embrace of the forest. The comforting glow of the camp's lanterns faded, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the trees. Not even a breath of wind stirred the leaves.
Caelen glanced back once. In the middle row of tents, a pale hand slipped from the flap of his shelter. Emma. She gave a tiny, fleeting wave before disappearing back into the shadows.
He didn't wave back.
The forest path was dark, the air growing colder. The only sounds were their footsteps on the soft earth.
"Seems like I'm the last," Caelen muttered. The silence was absolute. No voices of other initiates, no footsteps but their own.
Then, a scent hit him. Sweet, thick, cloyingly floral. It was wrong. It didn't belong among the smells of pine and damp soil.
He sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?"
Luziel's tone was light, almost conversational. "Ah. You noticed. The goddess told me her most chosen sometimes sense things others cannot. You're… progressing, Caelen. It is a good sign."
Caelen opened his mouth to ask another question, but the words died in his throat.
His gaze dropped to the path ahead.
There, dark against the moonlit dirt, was a smear. It gleamed wetly.
His chest tightened. He stumbled back, his breath catching in a sharp gasp.
"Is that—"
Luziel turned, his expression one of open, calm concern. "Are you unwell, child?"
Caelen blinked, hard. When he looked again, the smear was gone. Only undisturbed dirt and the play of shadow and light.
He swallowed, his mouth dry. "I… thought I saw something. Must've been a trick of the light."
"Good." Luziel smiled again, extending a hand to help him steady himself. Caelen ignored it, rising on his own, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
They walked on, deeper into the darkness.
But as they moved, Caelen's eyes, sharpened by fear, dropped again—not to the ground, but to the hem of the priest's immaculate white robes.
There, along the bottom fringe, barely visible in the dim light, was a stain.
A dark, dried, unmistakable stain of blood.