Gabriel found himself outside the grand church, immersed in a radiant sea of color and joy. The second passing of the moon’s cycle marked Lightday. The celebration honored the previous night's full moon, when Victra’s luminescence was strongest, and her love imbued the people’s hearts. Everyone was dressed in their best garments to celebrate Victra’s glow. Women wore dresses of various shades and patterns, whilst the men wore their most vibrant suits, a culmination that painted the square a kaleidoscope of colors. People milled about, embracing friends and family, laughing and conversing, everyone’s struggles appearing to be forgotten.

His own troubles were no longer at the forefront of his mind, having started the day with his mother and sister. They spoke for hours whilst having breakfast in the castle’s courtyard. Catching up on all that he had missed. They both seemed to cling to him more than usual.

He realized he had been too singularly focused on his training, his own guilt at learning the craft of war making him reticent in the company of others. Gabriel’s decision to share breakfast with his family was even more beneficial than he thought it would be.

I can’t hide from the world. I need to be surrounded by those I hold dear. No matter how difficult life becomes.

Gabriel was standing amidst the nobility, they were gathered and waiting to be given first access into the church before the commoners were allowed to enter. It was ironic, given the church’s stance that all Victra’s children were equal, however, that didn’t seem to synthesize with the kingdom’s imposed hierarchical system. Jessinta, Lovren, and their parents joined them. They all shared greetings, wishing each other a “Happy Lightday.”

Jessinta made her way to his side and swiveled towards him, whispering, “Black suits you better than whatever blue you are wearing now.”

Gabriel laughed; he liked his light blue coat. “I don’t know, I think I look rather dashing.”

Jessinta merely looked him up and down before playfully scoffing at him. He found himself unable to maintain eye contact.

A couple of heartbeats later, he composed himself before mimicking her once-over, adding with a coy smile, “Well, you look nice.” She dropped her chin, and the color rose in her cheeks. Gabriel felt his palms sweat; he hadn’t seen her do that before.

Mercifully, chatter amongst the group broke the awkward silence that had suddenly enveloped them both. Lovren began embellishing the tale of his confrontation with Rufus, much to Gabriel's chagrin. The exaggerated retelling made Gabriel appear brave and witty, although, in reality, all that had happened was him taking a beating. Laughter erupted when he recounted Gabriel’s quip about payment in pies, and Gabriel’s face grew warm. His mother looked at him reproachfully; after all, he hadn’t shared that part of the story.

Jessinta shifted the topic, asking the group, “So what do you think the sermon will be about today?”

Gabriel remained quiet, waited for someone else to speak. He was always unsure how to answer questions about faith. It’s not that I don’t believe in Victra. It’s just that I can’t be certain. How can I believe in something without certainty.

Sarah jumped in, “I think he'll talk about Goddess Victra.”

Lord Carnahy said, “I would take that bet.” The adults joined him in laughter. Sarah just tilted her head, puzzled.

Lady Anna playfully scolded him, “Carny, dear, you know how I feel about you betting.” How the mighty and strong Lord Carnahy was called “Carny” by his wife always amused Gabriel, as it clearly caused the lord embarrassment.

Gabriel realized his mother could never speak to the king with such familiarity. He couldn't fathom what it must have been like for her to marry a man when she was so young. Knowing that he would never love her, even after birthing two of his children. To be fair, he only loves one of them, he chuckled dryly to the thought.

Sarah, oblivious, asked their mother, “Ma, what are you going to call Pa to embarrass him?”

Gabriel observed his mother tense up momentarily, flashing a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. She quickly responded, “I don't know, deary. I'll have to think of something.” His mother's attempt to conceal her true feelings reminded him of the complexities that swirled beneath the surface of their lives. The intricacies of their family dynamics were lost on Sarah, who merely continued talking about possible nicknames for the king. Gabriel couldn’t be angry; he hoped his sister could enjoy the bliss of ignorance longer than he had.

Soon, the procession into the church began. Gabriel was overwhelmed by the woody aroma of incense as he stepped inside the sacred space. The vaulted ceilings seemed to reach towards the heavens. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished marble floors. Golden chandeliers hung like celestial stars, casting a warm glow over the ornate wooden pews. Intricately carved statues lined the walls, depicting scenes from the ancient lore of Victra and the kingdom’s history. Every detail seemed meticulously crafted, from the delicate frescoes adorning the walls to the velvet cushions garnishing the benches.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

As Gabriel walked further into the church, his footsteps muffled by the plush rug gracing the aisle, he couldn't help but feel awe. The sacredness of the space enveloped him, and he felt small, humble.

The usual seating arrangement in the front row had been altered, the king and his brothers absent from their usual places next to Gabriel. He contemplated the reasons behind this change. There had to be a reason for it; were they not attending today? It would mean there was trouble brewing between the monarchy and the church. The implications were too terrible to comprehend. His father wasn’t known to be a devout man; the only thing he believed in was steel.

He hadn’t thought to ask his mother, who was now engaged in conversation with Lord Carnahy. Subtly leaning in and pretending to admire a particularly elaborate candelabra, Gabriel tried to hear whether their words would reveal answers to his questions.

“So, what are the latest mutterings in court?” his mother asked.

“It's all the same, my queen. Taxes are on everyone's lips. The nobles are muttering since the taxes have increased,” Lord Carnahy replied.

“Who is the most outspoken?”

“That would be Lord Loftus. His dukedom is not earning sufficient revenue, and he claims his people are suffering from the grain shortage due to the long winter.”

Although it wasn’t the information he was seeking, Gabriel’s interest was piqued. Lord Loftus was the father of Rufus. Before he could learn more, a hush spread through the cathedral.

The preacher stepped forward, flanked by other priests—including the warrior priests. They were a covert order within the church, said to communicate to no one outside of the hierarchy's inner circle. They were even rumored to have their tongues cut upon initiation so they could devote themselves to action, rather than words. Gabriel studied them with intensity, hoping to see if the rumors were true.

Gabriel was so focused that he only just spotted his father and his brothers on the dais near the priests, standing tall and regal. This was highly irregular. I can’t remember this ever happening before.

The preacher began to speak. The man was dressed in rags yet carried an unmatched presence; he captivated the audience effortlessly.

The preacher seemed to look every person in the eye as his gaze swept across the faces before him. “Brothers and sisters,” he began, his words flowing with fervent energy. “Today, I stand before you to speak of loyalty, of unwavering devotion to our beloved Victra.”

Gabriel couldn't help but be unnerved by the preacher's fierce certainty. How could he really know?

His voice rose. “There are those among us who dare to betray our kingdom, who hold no faith in Victra and her sovereignty. They are disciples of Ash, the harbinger of destruction and chaos. They seek to smother the illumination of our world beneath the ashen shroud of their misguided beliefs.”

The preacher's words were peculiar. He usually spoke only of Victra and rarely stepped into mortal issues of kingdoms. Gabriel glanced at the congregation out of the corner of his eye. They appeared for all the kingdom to be listening, spellbound by the preacher's words, his powerful rhetoric stirring within their souls. Gabriel glanced at his father and noticed a zealous glint in his eyes. How did the king influence the church?

The preacher continued, his voice now booming. “Beware of the followers of Ash, they are practitioners of magic, witches, and wielders of hexes. They embody the greatest evil, deriving their power from death itself.”

A collective shudder rippled through the crowd, many placing two fingers to their hearts to ward off Ash. The king did the same. Their faith in Victra and loyalty to the crown were strengthened by the preacher's impassioned words.

Gabriel realized that, while the commoners seemed swayed, the nobility's faces seemed to reflect caution.

The preacher continued, warning the congregation of the plight of Ash. Warning them about how his followers threatened to obscure the world's illumination with their destructive ways. Reiterating the power that could be found from faith in Victra.

Then, his voice softened momentarily. “Do not despair in times of suffering, for it is through hardship that the path of light reveals itself. Our sacrifices today shall pave the way for a future bathed in the radiance of Victra's grace.”

Finally, the preacher proclaimed, “Remember, brothers and sisters, that our faith in Victra is inseparable from our allegiance to the crown. To serve the kingdom and its ruler is to serve Victra, for she embodies our divine purpose.”

Those last words stunned Gabriel; such direct proclamations from the church had never been heard before. The reactions were contrasting, the priests seemed to fidget uncomfortably, whilst the king puffed out his chest, a smug grin on his face. Looking around at the crowd again, people were nodding their heads in agreement. Gabriel realized how fickle people could be—how easily they could be swayed by a few words spoken with conviction.

The congregation stepped outside at the sermon’s conclusion. Gabriel’s mind swirled with preoccupation, still reflecting on the preacher's words and the audience’s response. He subconsciously rubbed his temple, trying to decipher the deeper meaning.

Gabriel hadn’t noticed Jessinta was standing near him until she asked, “Do you think we could be allowed to explore the market?” waking him from his stupor.

“I'll ask Mother,” he replied distractedly.

Gabriel approached his mother, who seemed similarly lost in thought. “Ma, can I go to the market with Jessinta and Lovren, please?” he asked.

His mother regarded him, her response coming slowly, the struggle evident in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the sermon or because she felt hesitant to let him leave the safe confines of the castle. Finally, she said, “Okay, but be back an hour before sundown, and stay within arm's reach of the guards at all times.”

Gabriel brightened, hugging his mother. “Thanks, Mam. Of course, we will.”

“Can I come too?” Sarah's voice piped up from behind. He put his arm around his sister’s shoulder as they waited for the answer, which came in the form of a nod and a look that told Gabriel to keep an eye on her.

“Yes! We can get those sugared candies you love,” Gabriel said. Sarah only squealed delightfully in response.

Gabriel was eager for the distraction, still unnerved by the sermon and how the church seemed to be allied with the king. He was worried about what was to come. Gabriel hadn’t known that, after their visit to the market, his mind would only turn more restless.