“Praise the Hand.” The priest called out as he tapped his chest, his forehead, and his eyes in the natural praying gesture of the church.

“Praise the Hand.” We followed, our voices echoing in the halls for a quick second as everyone seemed to have finally calmed down. However, I did hear some over-zealous or frightened ones shouting a little louder.

“Forgive us for this delay. Some issues came up at the worst possible time.

“Rest assured though, this would not in any way impede the proceedings of today’s Mass or disturb the church in any way in the future.

“I would like to welcome everyone to the 41st Sunday Mass of the ordinary time.

“I would also like to thank our donors for the gift of this mass.

“In the name of The Loving Hand, The Wonder of Creation, and The Holy Path, I wish you all a successful life forward and His Hand always on your shoulder.” He said, tapping four times in the shape of a mark.

We followed as a wave of “Amen” followed.

“Sisters and brothers, let us pray to our lord, our eternal friend, and learn of his ways.”

And with that followed a round of reciting his various names, praising him, and worshiping his multiple names. Words out of the Holy Guide recited and songs sung in his name by the choir.

They talked of old times when his avatars would walk the earth and guide us every 7th day. Guiding us towards our destiny.

After 45 minutes of this, he finally announced the end of the mass, and raising his hand, he motioned us to come forward.

Forming a line, I followed the people. The ones standing as me favored for early release. Finally, after a few minutes, I stood in front of the priest who had his hand raised in front of me. Taking his hands in mine, I leaned forward and kissed it lightly. A wrinkly sensation on my lips, and I wondered why was I even thinking of that and instantly stood straight.

The priest looked at me with a glint in his eyes and before I could run away, he called out to me “My child, would you like to wait a few minutes to learn about the life of Our Lord?”

On a sunny day, I personally don’t hate priests. I have heard stories of course, but to date have not met one who fulfils those stereotypes. But the glint in his eyes and the way he whispered the words with a slight focus on my name sent me believing I was finally gonna meet one.

A shiver through my spine as my buttocks clenched almost imperceptibly and I looked at him with a slight fear. The fear must’ve been more apparent than what I expected, for the man in all his confusion asked me with a slight frown “Is something wrong with the arrangement, my child?”

“No no no,” I hastily refuted, as refusing an offer of the god’s chosen would end with me as a heretic very soon and my identity much too open, “I’ll wait for you by the pews, Father.” I said and walked back to my seat.

I sat there wondering if this is really just about some teachings? But then why pick me? I looked back at my getup and wondered if my mannerisms made me look like a foreigner.

Remembering the scene in the garden though made me wince as I wondered if he picked me cause he thought of me as much too stupid and naive. ‘Gosh, it’s gonna be embarrassing if that’s it.’

I watched throngs of people come and walk away with some taking but a moment while the others stood there talking to the priest or just murmuring their prayers.

All of them walked off the church soon enough though. It was still mid-day and I imagined most people didn’t have the oh-so-enviable “free time” in their hands. Even though it’s Sunday.

‘No rest for the wicked huh’ I muttered and wondered should I fall into that category?

It was another 20 minutes before the line was finally empty and the man looked free enough. The rest of the devotees had either already left the church, while some change stayed seated at their seats still praying.

How can someone be so devoted? I wondered.

The man finally free, walked towards me with a small smile on his face and not a sweat on his forehead. Weird. I’d have expected him to be more than tired after so much. But I stacked the thought away for later.

Standing from my seat I welcomed the priest with a small bow as I said “Thank you, Father.”

“It’s no worries, my child. Come let’s walk to my room. I would be able to show you some material which would be inconvenient and troublesome to show here.” He said as he walked away, expecting me to follow.

‘Dammit father, you are making this hard for me.’ I cursed internally as I followed him, inwardly praying.

‘Please don’t be evil, please don’t be evil, please don’t be evil.’

Walking along the transept we reached a door behind a column which opened to the garden outside, a solid cement path beneath my feet which led behind the main building of the cathedral.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

It was a smaller yet magnificent tower of what I assumed to be quarters or the working place of the priests and the staff.

I called it a tower yet its diameter was not to be underestimated as it could probably fit a 100 of me standing side by side. Probably.

It also had a few rooms attached at the bottom and bay windows attached to higher floors with an open terrace at the top, as far as I could see.

Walking through the tower though I realized how absolutely empty and silent it was of any weird murals or otherworldly feelings.

It was an absolute silence to my senses and I cherished the place so much that a wish to settle her for a few days came to me.

‘It just feels so good!’

However, this absence reminded me of something I seemed to have overlooked. ‘Why did I not feel it when he created those aurora borealis’s? Was it not an application of Artistic powers, or is there something I’m missing here?’

Through my confusion, the priest took me to one of the bottom floor rooms extending out of the tower and locked us in as we entered. Suppressing the chill that went through me at the clicking of the lock, I forced myself to focus more on the room around me.

It was a relatively small room with an old wooden rack of religious books and documents and a few political biographies and doctrines among them. A basin on the other end of the room existed alongside a metallic trunk. The room had a circular wooden table with a pot and a few glasses on and 3-4 chairs surrounding it. To my right, adjacent to the trunk, was his bed with white bed sheets.

“Please take a seat.” The priest gestured towards the chair and took a seat himself.

Not sensing any malicious intentions yet, I too sat down opposite him.

“So the rumors of the youngest prince awakening as an Artist were true huh.” He said, pouring me a glass of water.

I nodded, not surprised that he knew who I was. Although normal people don’t get to see the faces of nobility much, especially someone as inactive as me; it’s not the same for priests who have worked with my family for years.

“What an auspicious occasion indeed. To think the lad who used to awkwardly stutter his prayers and would stand silently in his little corner has now grown up to match my status. What an auspicious moment indeed.” He said, his tone nostalgic and jovial.

“It all happened very suddenly for me too.” I replied.

“Yes yes heard it was quite a spectacle. A very suspicious awakening too. The council is chewing their nails over it.” He said with a smirk.

“With the risk of appearing impatient… can you tell me why I was called here?” I asked.

“Why can I not just meet a budding young Artist for no reason?” He asked, raising his glass at me.

“You can….” I said, stumped at his reason. My imagined scenarios smoke now.

“Tell you what though, I do need a little help with depositing something to the steward. Would you be kind enough to help me?” He said, and the space above the table exploded as particles with a metallic gleam appeared above the table in buzz as they congregated towards the center in a flash, and under my stunned audience, formed a black metallic ring.

The ring, which now floated above the table, looked the most ordinary black ring I’d ever seen. It had no special runes or a dead language I’d have expected for such a display. Yet when I looked at it, I couldn’t help but recall its crafting. How did he even do that?

Is that really possible? I wanted to ask him, but another question buzzed me more than anything.

“I didn’t feel it….?” I murmured in a stupor, my eyes fixed on the still-floating ring.

“You didn’t feel the nausea or light-headedness you have come to expect?” The priest returned the question, a smirk still playing on his visage.

And I simply alternated between looking at him and the ring as I nodded, my mouth hanging open.

“Well that’s just a neat trick I’ve reached over the years I’ve been an Artist. Took me a ton of introspection and practice. Maybe you can reach it too, one day.” He said and the ring floated towards me.

“Can… can I really?” I asked.

“Well of course not if you keep following the advice of these buffoons! Ma’tku these people would spoil all our young talents like this.” He spat, adding a local curse. “I had expected the Viscount to treat his son better than that, but I guess favoritism does exist.”

And through a sudden deep irritation, a film of memories played through my mind. My father’s care and attention towards my elder brother. The one he deemed the most like him. The most groomable. His attitude towards me the last time. And many more.

As if a dam had broken, all kinds of bad thoughts, vicious thoughts, filled my head and I tried hard controlling myself against an outburst. My outburst felt unnatural and like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

But I eventually controlled myself. The itch subsided and I looked at the priest who looked sympathetically at me.

“Stay strong child. His Hand would always guide you forward rightly.” He said, tapping four times in a prayer.

I mimicked him and stayed silent but nodded for him to continue.

“You were saying something about the advice?” I asked, still curious about it.

“Well, why don’t you do this for me and I’ll tell you more when you come back?” He said, lifting his hand towards me.

‘Is it okay?’ I wondered. It sounded like a good deal if I could find a better way to go through being an Artist. ‘Could I make him spill the answers by force?’ I quickly discarded that idea. The church doesn’t fall under any noble house and I too questioned the sanity of making an enemy out of such an experienced and dangerous Artist.

But I always knew the answer in my heart.

“I accept.” I said, as I leaned in and pecked his hand.

“Wonderful! Take it then!” He said, his face brightening a few degrees.

“Thank you for your offer.” I said and pocketed the ring. I stood up and was about to leave the room when his voice stopped me, a grave undertone in his voice all of a sudden.

“Please come back as soon as you can. This city… feels isolated.” He said, a frown on his face as he looked at the table with a grave concentration.

“Why do you feel so?” I asked, serious as a bad feeling intensified in my stomach.

“Just an instinct.” He said simply, not even looking at me.

Seeing him not willing to say anything else, I too left the room. Agitation in my steps as I closed the door behind me and just as I was about to leave, something caught my eye.

There was a plaque on the door I hadn’t noticed when I entered. I spoke of a number and I almost wished I hadn’t seen it for it brought a chill up my spine and my teeth clattered. It read..

‘8.12’

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