The next morning, I barely had time to finish my morning push-ups before Malrik appeared at the door.
"Ark. The High Priests have summoned you again. Immediately."
His tone was clipped, his face unreadable.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and followed him, my heart pounding faster than my feet on stone.
Narsh leaned against the wall outside the church door, arms crossed.
"Oi, Sage-boy. Try not to f*ck it up this time. You looked like you were about to piss yourself yesterday."
I frowned. "…Thanks for the encouragement."
She grinned, unrepentant.
"Anytime. Now go in there and show those old farts your muscles aren't the only strong thing about you."
Malrik's sigh was long and deep, but he didn't argue.
---
The trial chamber was even more suffocating today. The priests seemed sharper, their gazes colder, like they had already been discussing me long before I arrived.
The eldest priest wasted no time.
"Ark, step forward."
I obeyed. My hands felt clammy.
The sharp-eyed priestess spoke next.
"Yesterday, you refused to demonstrate your gift. Today, we will not accept hesitation. We must know what kind of power we are dealing with."
Another priest leaned in.
"If you will not prove it, then how can we ever trust you?"
---
I clenched my fists. "…I told you, I don't want to kill something just to prove myself."
"You misunderstand, boy," the eldest priest cut in, his voice heavy.
"We are not asking for cruelty. We are asking for truth. Do you understand the weight of what you hold? Or will you hide behind the shield of innocence?"
Malrik spoke carefully, his voice controlled.
"High Priests, the boy's gift is not a matter of vanity. He has already saved lives in his village. Forcing him to harm may only taint the purity of his heart."
The youngest priest scoffed.
"Purity? Power this great cannot stay pure forever. Either it bends… or it breaks."
---
Then the eldest priest gave a slow nod.
"Bring in the test."
The doors opened. Two acolytes carried a stretcher. On it lay a man—pale, gaunt, barely breathing. A criminal, by the iron shackles around his wrists.
My chest tightened.
"This man," the priest said, "was sentenced to death for his crimes. He is already at death's door. You will use your gift on him."
The blood drained from my face. "…You mean…?"
"Let his life end. Then return it. If you can."
---
My legs wavered. This wasn't a bird. This was a man. A human life.
I heard Malrik whisper at my side, low so only I could hear:
"Ark… listen to your heart. Not their commands. Decide for yourself what your gift is meant for."
The man on the stretcher coughed weakly, opening hollow eyes. He looked at me. His lips curved into a bitter smile.
"So… the gods send a boy to play with my life. Do it then, Sage. End me. Revive me. What do I care? My soul's already stained."
The chamber fell silent. Every eye was on me.
I didn't know what to do.