Just as the chants for the First Flame rang out, Zane's senses sharpened to their peak.
Breaths grew heavier.
Heartbeats thundered louder.
The drops of sweat, the shivering hands raised in prayer, Zane saw all of it to their best capacity.
All because the intent grew thicker and thicker as the chants rang. And it all started not when the chanting began, it started when Zane had joined in.
They don't like me chanting? I am not chanting for real.
Zane didn't have any way to show he was faking it and the priest was right in front of him, hollering the hail for the First Flame.
But by all means, he knew one thing.
Whatever it was, it wanted him dead. Now more than ever.
This is getting out of control. How long do I have to do this? I just want to go home!
Everyone was on their knees, chanting and the Priest finally got up from in front of Zane.
Zane sighed in relief, which he posed as the relief for being forgiven by the First Flame.
The Priest nodded one last time at Zane and turned around.
He walked towards the stage placed in the front of the Church, stepping through the narrow gaps between the kneeling bodies.
All heads were bowed and as the Priest reached the podium, his voice boomed:
"Believers, all of you can raise your heads now."
Instantly, everyone followed.
As if being late to follow the order would be punishable.
Zane followed along, lifting his head slightly higher than before.
"Now stand on your feet."
Everyone moved and did what the Priest said.
They stood.
And only now, did Zane finally see the interior of the church clearly.
The church was long and narrow, built like a throat swallowing light.
Benches stretched on both sides of a central aisle that led toward the altar, where the Priest stood beneath a tall arch of stained glass.
But halfway down the hall, the floor changed.
A low wooden rail—barely to the knee—cut across the width of the church.
It wasn't meant to stop anyone. It was meant to remind.
The Halocrats and Commoners stepped over it without slowing.
The Gutterborn stopped before it.
Behind the barrier, the benches were rough, unpolished, splintered.
Beyond it, the seats were cushioned.
The divide was horizontal, clean, quiet. No guards enforcing it. No signs explaining it.
Everyone simply knew where they belonged.
Zane scoffed.
Some layout for a place where everyone is equal.
"Now take your seats. We shall begin shortly."
Everyone moved and picked the closest seat they found.
There were more than enough seats for all of them.
Zane had to sit too so he looked for a seat. He couldn't sit anywhere. He needed a place where it would be easier to run and watch everyone at the same time.
He looked over his shoulder, at the door behind him and his best option was the seat closest to the door.
So he chose that.
He walked towards it and from the corner of his eyes, he saw a person walking towards that same seat.
Seeing that, he leaped from his spot and when the Gutterborn saw where Zane was headed, he changed his trajectory.
He turned his feet towards the opposite side of Zane's intended seat and sat there.
Zane's brows twitched.
All that for nothing.
He shook his head and simply walked.
But Zane underestimated himself.
As he approached, the Gutterborns on that side quietly stood and moved to the opposite benches without meeting his eyes.
Great. First the intent and now I am an outcast.
Zane didn't have the time to sulk over this and when he thought about it, he also wouldn't want to do anything with someone who confesses they pleasure themselves every night.
The seats on Zane's left side were all empty and whatever few Gutterborns were in the church, they were seated on his right side.
He shrugged and sat on the seat closest to the door.
Well, at least no one is around me. No one else would be hurt if an attack came to me.
After being seated, Zane felt the hardness of the seat familiar to the floor of his house as he opened his eyes and ears to their limits and watched closely in front of him.
He was at the last row of the church and that was the best place to watch out from.
Seeing everyone settled, the Priest clapped his hands, bringing attention to himself.
"Flame Believers, it's the First Flame that is keeping us safe. I have said it many times and I will recite it again. For you should never forget being grateful and devoted to his benevolence and sacrifice."
Everyone leaned forward with joined palms and fingers interlocked.
They were eager and the Priest didn't make them wait.
"The Haloheart. Our supreme Haloheart. The one which allows everyone to touch it without any discrimination and grants them powers. It wasn't always like that. It was meant only to be worshipped as the embodiment of the First Flame. Nothing more. Due to the hardships and good deeds of some men, the First Flame had bestowed that to them by tearing a rift in the sky to worship it. It was the fruit of their labor.
But a greedy thief tried to steal a piece of Haloheart, thinking it was mere gold, to make himself rich. The First Flame didn't let that deed go and because of one greedy soul, our whole Dwarkam incurred his wrath.
From the same rift that bestowed us the Haloheart, the First Flame opened many such rifts and from them, poured out devils after devils. Demons after demons. Death after death. Half of Dwarkam burned by the same light that warmed them.
At that moment, all the good men sat on their knees and prayed for forgiveness on the thief's behalf. They prayed till they were infested with maggots and algae. Some prayed till their deaths. Some prayed while being feasted by the Demons. Seeing them, many more people joined.
And after decades, the First Flame finally found mercy in his fire and granted powers to the Haloheart and told everyone that whoever touches it would be granted powers straight from him which they could use to fight off the monsters.
Everyone rejoiced and touched the Haloheart. They received powers and by using them, they managed to hold back the monsters. The monsters ran away. They went into hiding, and only appeared occasionally but were dealt with.
But the rifts were still there and new monsters came out from them, so the people prayed to the First Flame again and this time, his benevolence reached its peak. The First Flame's voice reverberated in the whole Dwarkam as he said that it is impossible to close the rifts for forever, but he would use his power to keep the rifts closed as long as he could.
But because of that, he would shrink every year as his power would be becoming less and less, so at that time, the First Flame requested everyone to give him their power of worship and love so that it never loses all his strength entirely and never shrinks.
From then on, all of us prayed to the First Flame diligently. All of us prayed to him for his sacrifice and his love for us all. From then on, we gather and give him all our love so that he could find strength to not let those rifts tear our sky ever again."
The Priest paused, eyeing each believer.
Zane leaned forward like others and not just to show the Priest, this time, he was genuinely interested.
"Our Dwarkam is like this right now because of the events that happened on that fateful day. People might complain but everyone here is facing the consequences of their actions.
Those who made the First Flame bestow the Haloheart in Dwarkam by their good deeds are the ancestors of the same bloodline whom we now refer to as Crowns.
Those who joined them later to ask for forgiveness from the First Flame were later called the Halocrats.
Those monsters, Devils and Demons that poured out from the rifts were named as the Riftborns.
And that man, that thief, that wretched insufferable filth, the reason half of our Dwarkam burned, his race, his entire bloodline, all his friends, all his relatives, everyone who lived like him and looked like him and knew him, all of them were later known in the whole world by the only one term..."
The Priest trembled as with a face devoid of any smile, with a face filled with pure disgust and gritted teeth, he bellowed:
"Gutterborns."