When we passed through the portal, a different sight met my eyes.
It was the Sanctuary.
A vast expanse of land, cluttered with a network of marketplaces here and there stretched as far as I could see. Several people were commuting from place to place, either buying or selling groceries, marketing themselves in one way or the other, or simply strolling past the busy tides. The chain of markets went on and on, even climbing the gentle slopes in the distance. Shrouded by the yellow gleam, the sun smiled on the vibrant community, tucked behind the mountains.
The sky was golden and radiant, the sunny skies beaming above the light blue veil that covered it. A transparent blue blanket pulsed in a heartwarming sensation, spreading like a dome over everything he could see.
And the entirety of the Sanctuary.
Father Azrael walked forward, prompting me to follow. As he moved, his eyes were drawn to the magnificent structure that stood beyond, reaching heights that connected heaven to earth.
A large building that seemed to touch the veil stood elegantly from distances unimaginable, notably distinct from everything else. The blue light that shone from the veil appeared to cascade its sides, illuminating its frame in a blue, enthralling glow.
It was a cross—a gigantic cross that easily proved to be several times larger than the statue of liberty. It was several miles away, sprouting far behind the mountains. But no matter how far you were, it was impossible to not see it.
The Sanctuary was actually very large, if that wasn't an understatement. Geographically, it was the span of several states combined, nearly reaching the magnitude of a small country.
And it had an estimate of 8 million people. It was slightly overpopulated, but not enough to deprive anyone of basic necessities such as food and shelter. Of course, more complex matters like unemployment rates, and crime were still issues that needed tackling.
The Sanctuary wasn't just a convergence of Christians escaping persecution. It was a civilization by itself.
Just like every other day, I watched in awe, drawn to the vibrance of the people. There were quite a lot, and I could see at least 4 people at each marketplace. The further I and my teacher walked, the more activity that unfolded before my eyes. It was noisy. But honestly, I liked it.
The markets were very basic, with no sign of technology present in any shop. When we reached the foodstuff section, a mouth watering scent of fresh fruits and vegetables hit my nostrils. I involuntarily took in a whiff, noticing that street food was being made somewhere.
Of course my eyes searched for the location, pushed by my appreciation. And following the steam that brushed under my nostrils, I discovered a corner shop ahead by my right.
Just like most other markets, it had raw meat displayed openly in order to preserve it with fresh air. There was a bulky dark-skinned man in an apron standing behind a widespread grill. Several beef strips pierced by a wooden stick were positioned at the edge of the grill, reddish brown from the marinade as it glistened with oil and smoke. At the centre of the open grill, a smoky haze drifted, clouding the strips of skewered meat and barbeque, which were embellished with sliced onions, tomatoes, cabbage, and pepper.
I was nearly drooling, but in order to avoid embarrassment, I hid my craving. However, my stomach betrayed me.
It couldn't have grumbled any louder. Father Azrael turned to look at me then glanced at the source of longing, before looking back with a knowing smile. Honestly, his countenance alone made me want to curl up in shame.
"Wow…" Father Azrael exclaimed. "Belly warrior."
….
I looked really awkward as I averted my gaze away from his, suddenly finding interest in the shape of the clouds. I refused to answer to his remarks to avoid further humiliation. But whenever he started teasing, he never really stopped.
"Welp let's get some food then, my ever hungry disciple." he concluded, grinning at me. Of course, I said nothing—half embarrassed, half anticipating.
After all, I had never smelled anything like this before.
It didn't take long to wind our way through the flood of people walking opposite to our direction. And after much struggle, we arrived at the shop.
"Now that I smell it up close…" Father Azrael remarked. "It's really good."
Hmph!
I felt a little proud of myself. My nasal perception skills were obviously more refined than his.
Unfortunately, he was quick to change my feelings once again.
"Ah yes.." he suddenly jested. "My aroma hunter is always in action."
….
Seriously?
I gave him a deadpan expression as he laughed, slapping my shoulders with a grin. The seller just stared at us, seemingly amused by the jovial atmosphere.
Father Azrael cleared his throat and pointed at the sizzling beef strips. "What's this dish called?"
The man smirked proudly and responded. "It's native. We call it Suya."
"Ah…Suya." He muttered to himself, his eyes lingering on the garnished meat chops. The fragrance was captivating, even to him. But I didn't dare to feel good about it, wary that he would make me feel even worse.
However his pronunciation was a lot different from the way he said it. To which the seller quickly chastised him, spelling it out with his lips.
"Nope." he retorted. "It's…Su-ya."
"Sue-YAH?"
"No! SU-YA!"
"Sui-yahh?"
The man crossed his arms over his bulky frame. "No service unless you pronounce it properly." He declared.
Father Azrael begged. "Please don't do this to us…"
His eyes were pleading, and he looked like a child that was wronged by his parents. His eyes drifted from the man to the delicacy, and each time they did, they would linger and he would beg even harder.
But the man was persistent.
"Alright then." Father coughed, clearing his throat as if he was about making the most grandiose speech known to man. He looked very confident, and so focused that you would think that he was trying to stop the end of the world.
Yet, even with his stern expression, he struggled.
"Suueya."
"Uhh…." I suddenly spoke. "I think you got a little Korean there."
Father Azrael scratched his head, feeling stressed and defeated. "I don't even know why." He mumbled. "I never really learnt my language."
"It's fine." I cheered in a sarcastic tone. "You can do it."
His trials and errors became pitiful as I watched. Nevertheless, seeing sweat bead up on his forehead, with his face particularly tense, I couldn't stop myself from laughing.
"Pfft!"
And then it all erupted.
My knees bent as I descended, curling up like a tortoise in laughter. And Father Azrael watched the kid that made mockery of his dilemma, whilst he kept sweating bullets.
Then suddenly, judgement day came upon me.
"You then." The seller commanded. "Why don't you help him out?"
Ah.
…..
…..
It took several minutes, but after a much needed transformation of the tongue, we successfully purchased it. The man also bade us with extra, in order to reward our efforts.
I was about to give in to my gluttony when Father Azrael snatched it from me, taking it by the nylon wraps.
"It's unhygienic to eat in such a rowdy environment." He said as we kept striding towards our destination, slowly exiting the busy atmosphere of the markets. I wanted to complain, but he was right and my stomach had to wait.
A few moments later, we were standing in a less crowded place. And there was this elegant building before us.
It was on a mountain. A quiet mountain. Beneath us were builings—shelters which stood silently in their numbers. I could only observe a few civilians going in and out of the buildings, and it was all relatively peaceful.
However if I looked beyond, there was the marketplace—still brimming with activity. Ahead of us, the gigantic cross could now be seen even better. Even though it was still miles away.
However the structure right in front of us was striking, as it appeared so serene—as if it was in a world of its own. It was my first time seeing it up close so I was left in a daze, not noticing that my teacher had gone up ahead of me.
There were stairs running down from its heights, reaching our position and further. The full picture of the monastery could not be seen, as rocks impeded by view thanks to how high up it was. But I could make out a steep, and slightly uneven roof covered in dark stone tiles that lay over walls made of rough stone. A thin trail of smoke rose quietly from the chimney, whilst a wooden gate marked the entrance to the building.
It was time to find out whether I had passed, or failed.