The priests murmured amongst themselves, their voices a mix of astonishment and uncertainty as they clustered around the Manometer. Pastor Henry, the head priest who had conducted the ceremony, bent down once more, his sharp gaze fixed on Nyx. The ornate details of his robes caught the faint light as he knelt to her level.

“Can you tell me where you came from?” Pastor Henry asked, his voice soft yet probing.

Nyx shook her head, clutching the edges of her cloak tightly. Sister Clara, who had been standing nearby, stepped in to explain. “She doesn’t speak our language, Pastor Henry. We’ve been trying to piece together her circumstances, but communication has been… difficult.”

Pastor Henry glanced between Nyx and the Manometer, his brow furrowing. “This isn’t a cause for concern, necessarily,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But it would be nice to understand how she could already possess a skill—especially at such a young age.”

The murmurs among the priests grew louder, even the children, who once engrossed in their post-ritual chatter, began whispering amongst themselves, their voices barely audible yet buzzing with curiosity.

One child leaned toward another. “A skill? At her age?”

“That’s unheard of,” the other replied, eyes wide.

Nyx’s unease grew with each passing moment, her hands gripping the fabric of her tunic as her mind raced.

Uriel’s voice echoed in her mind, calm and steady. “Stay composed, Nyx. They’re curious, but they don’t know the truth. They only see what the Lunar Veil of Deception has allowed.”

Nyx took a deep breath, nodding imperceptibly to herself.

Pastor Henry turned to a nearby acolyte and beckoned him over. “Fetch Pastors Seth and Gabriel. Tell them to come immediately.”

Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Pastors Seth and Gabriel rushed into the room, their expressions tense. “What’s the matter, Pastor Henry? Is something wrong?” Pastor Seth asked, his voice filled with concern.

Pastor Henry gestured toward the crowd gathered near Nyx and the Manometer. “Come and see for yourselves,” he said gravely.

The two priests exchanged a puzzled glance before making their way through the gathered crowd. When they reached the Manometer, their eyes widened in shock.

“Is this real?” Pastor Gabriel breathed, staring at the glowing orb.

Pastor Seth leaned closer, his fingers brushing over the runes etched into the Manometer. “It’s authentic,” he confirmed, though his voice trembled slightly. He turned his gaze to Nyx, who sat silently, her expression blank but her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

“How can this be?” Pastor Gabriel asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. “She’s so young… How did she obtain a skill?”

Their eyes turned toward Nyx, who remained seated, her expression a mixture of confusion and unease. The Manometer’s readings displayed:

Skill: Twin Dagger Wielder

Level: F

Constellation: Unknown

Pastor Henry straightened, his expression serious. “We need to determine who this unknown constellation is. It isn’t in our records, which makes this even more unusual.”

Pastor Seth turned to Nyx, crouching slightly to meet her at eye level. “Have you ever used your skill before?” he asked gently, his voice laced with curiosity.

Nyx stared at him, unsure of how to respond.

Uriel translated the question in her mind. Nyx tilted her head, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t know the skill they were referring to—since the Lunar Veil of Deception had chosen it for her. But she’d never actively used it in battle or training.

Noticing her hesitation, Pastor Seth repeated himself, pointing to the Manometer. “Your skill. Twin Dagger Wielder. Have you used it before?”

Nyx’s silver eyes brightened behind her dark veil. “Twin Dagger Wielder… that’s the one Lunar Veil of Deception gave me,” she whispered internally to Uriel.

Uriel’s calm voice responded. “Then you should confirm it, Nyx. They’re asking if you’ve used it.”

Nyx nodded hesitantly, lifting her chin slightly to indicate affirmation.

Pastor Gabriel’s eyes widened further. “She has! Even if it’s a low-level skill, the fact that she possesses it and recognizes it at her age is remarkable.”

Pastor Henry crossed his arms, his face thoughtful. “Then the skill must have been bestowed upon her before her arrival here. But by whom? And why?”

The room buzzed again with quiet murmurs. The children craned their necks to get a better look at Nyx, their curiosity burning.

“She’s not just any child,” one whispered.

“What if she’s special? Like a chosen one or something?” another speculated.

Pastor Seth continued. “Even if it’s only a Level F skill, that’s still remarkable for someone this young. Most children don’t get skills until they’re at least teenage years or older even sometimes nothing at all, it all depends if the constellations see you fit .”

The room grew even quieter, the murmurs dying down as the other priests and children strained to hear the conversation.

Pastor Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This is no ordinary case. For a child to manifest such a skill at this age—and for it to show up on the Manometer—suggests something significant.”

“Perhaps the gods themselves intervened,” Pastor Gabriel suggested, his tone reverent. “Skills are gifts, after all. They choose their wielders.”

“Or,” Pastor Seth countered, his voice tinged with skepticism, “this child may have been exposed to something—or someone—beyond our understanding. We need more information before we make assumptions.”

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Pastor Henry nodded slowly. “Agreed. We should proceed cautiously. For now, let’s focus on ensuring the child is safe and cared for.”

Nyx shifted uneasily as their gazes lingered on her. She felt the weight of their curiosity pressing down on her like a physical force.

Uriel’s voice echoed in Nyx’s mind. “It seems your presence here is drawing quite a lot of attention. Be careful, Nyx. They may mean well, but curiosity can often lead to danger.

As the priests murmured amongst themselves, their voices filled with awe and confusion, Nyx’s thoughts began to spiral. Her hands tightened around the edges of her cloak, her breathing shallow. The weight of their attention felt suffocating, and she fought to keep her composure.

“They don’t know, Nyx,” Uriel said calmly in her mind, grounding her. “They can’t see the truth. Remember that the veil protects you.”

But even Uriel’s soothing words couldn’t fully quiet her growing fear. Her thoughts drifted back to the forest, to the constellations who had raised her. A memory surfaced—Drac’s voice, deep and commanding, yet filled with a rare softness as he knelt before her.

The Flashback

The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. Nyx, barely eight years old, sat cross-legged on the smooth stone floor of Drac’s lair. The Dragon God of Wrath loomed over her, his massive form casting a shadow across the cavern. His ruby fiery red eyes softened slightly as he regarded her, his usually gruff tone quieter than usual.

“You’re different, Nyx,” Drac said, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Do you know why?”

Nyx tilted her head, her silver hair falling into her eyes. “Because I live here? In the forest?”

Drac’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Partly, yes. But it’s more than that. You’re being raised by constellations themselves. You’ve been granted knowledge, power, and care that no mortal child could ever dream of.”

Nyx’s brows furrowed, her young mind struggling to grasp the gravity of his words. “Is that… bad?”

Drac’s smile faded, his gaze growing serious. “Not bad, little one. But it makes you special. And when you step outside this forest, that ‘special’ is something you’ll need to hide.”

“Hide?” Nyx repeated, her small hands clutching at the hem of her tunic. “Why would I hide?”

“Because the outside world isn’t like here,” Drac explained, crouching down to meet her eyes. “People fear what they don’t understand. If they knew about us—about who raised you—they would see you as a threat. They’d seek to control you or destroy you.”

Nyx’s eyes widened, fear flickering across her face. “But… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Drac’s clawed hand rested gently on her shoulder, the warmth of his touch reassuring. “I know you don’t. And that’s why you must be careful. Never speak of us. Never reveal what you’ve learned here. Let them see you as ordinary, even if you’ll never truly be.”

“Not even a little bit?” Nyx asked hesitantly, her voice small.

“Not even a little bit,” Drac said firmly. “The world isn’t ready for you, Nyx. But one day, they will be. Until then, keep your head low and your power hidden.”

He straightened, his fiery gaze softening once more. “You’re stronger than you think, little one. Trust yourself. And when the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

Drac’s words echoed in her mind as she stood before the priests, their gazes heavy with curiosity. “Let them see you as ordinary,” she repeated to herself, her fingers brushing against her dark veil.

The memory bolstered her resolve. She couldn’t let them see too much—couldn’t let them unravel her secrets. These priests might not understand her power or her connection to the constellations, but she would ensure that they didn’t have the chance to dig any deeper.

“Uriel,” she whispered internally, her voice steady now. “Let’s keep the deception strong.”

Uriel’s response was immediate. “Of course, Nyx. The Lunar Veil of Deception is holding. They can’t see the real you.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she nodded. Whatever questions they asked next, she would face them with the same quiet determination that Drac had instilled in her.

“I’ll be careful,” she thought. “Just like Drac said.”

Nyx exhaled softly, nodding to herself. She could feel the tension in the room, but she held her ground, determined to stay calm.

After the big revelation during the ceremony, Pastor Henry instructed the other pastors to lead the children outside to play, including Nyx. Their laughter echoed through the open space of Whimsy Hollow, a whimsical playground filled with fantastical sights. Floating bridges shimmered like morning dew in the sunlight, while rainbow slides sparkled with every color imaginable. The Stardust Slides left faint trails of glowing dust as children slid down, their giggles ringing through the air.

Sister Clara knelt beside Nyx on the church steps, her soft hand resting gently on Nyx’s shoulder. “It’s alright, little one,” she said in a soothing tone, her words carefully translated by Uriel. “Everything will be okay.”

Nyx nodded slowly, gripping the edge of her Stormweaver Veil tightly. Her silver hair caught the sunlight, making her stand out even among the magical wonders of Whimsy Hollow.

But not all the children stayed to play. Some dashed off to their homes, excitement bubbling as they recounted the events of the ceremony.

“She has silver hair and already has skill!” one boy exclaimed to his mother, waving his arms for emphasis.

“She’s just a kid, and she has powers? That can’t be true,” the woman replied, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s true! I saw it with my own eyes!” the boy insisted, his voice rising.

Their stories, though met with skepticism by some, quickly became the hottest topic in the village. Speculation buzzed through the streets. Some dismissed it as exaggerated gossip, while others were curious, wondering if there was more truth to the tale.

Other children told similar stories, their voices carrying across the village. Whispers grew into buzz, and soon the tale of the mysterious silver-haired girl reached nearly every home. Some parents dismissed it as childish exaggeration, while others leaned in, intrigued.

By midday, the story had traveled far and wide, reaching the ears of the village chief, who sat in quiet contemplation, and eventually finding its way to Till.

Till crouched by a stack of firewood outside his modest home, carefully tying a bundle with coarse rope. His focus wavered when he overheard a group of children walking past.

“She was sitting right there on the church steps!” one child said excitedly. “And her hair—it’s silver, like moonlight!”

“She already has a skill!” another added. “That means she’s special, right?”

Till froze, his hands stilling as the memory of a certain silver-haired girl flickered in his mind. Her kindness, her bravery—Nyx.

His heart raced as he considered the possibility. It couldn’t be her… could it? But then again, how many silver-haired children lived in their village? The answer was none.

“What if it’s not her?” he thought, doubt creeping in. But the possibility was too important to ignore.

He let go of the firewood bundle, the rope slipping through his fingers. The idea of Nyx being here, alive and in the village, was too powerful to ignore.

“I need to know,” he muttered, his blue eyes narrowing with determination.

Without a second thought, Till bolted toward the church. His feet pounded against the dirt roads, kicking up small clouds of dust. He weaved through the bustling marketplace, brushing past merchants and villagers.

“Sorry! Excuse me!” he called out breathlessly, his voice trailing behind him.

Ignoring the curious glances and irritated grumbles from those he passed, Till pushed onward, his heart pounding in his chest. As the towering spire of the church came into view, his pace quickened, and he broke into a full sprint.

When Till arrived at Whimsy Hollow, he was greeted by the sight of children playing. The enchanted carousel spun slowly, its glowing wooden animals casting faint, colorful shadows. He scanned the crowd, his gaze darting from face to face.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he searched.

His breath hitched when he saw a glimmer of silver in the sunlight. Sitting quietly on the church steps, Nyx watched the children play, her posture relaxed but her hands gripping the edge of her veil. The sight of her dark covering caught him off guard, but there was no mistaking it. Her hair, her cloak—it was her.

“It’s her,” Till whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief.

As if on autopilot, Till’s feet carried him toward her. His heart was a chaotic drumbeat, each step bringing a new wave of doubt. What if she didn’t remember him? What if she had changed?

He stopped a few feet away, his hands trembling slightly. For a moment, he stood frozen, the sounds of the playground fading into the background.

“Say something,” he urged himself, his throat dry.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said her name. “Nyx?”