Sister Clara led Nyx through the winding halls of the church, her soft footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Nyx followed closely, her hands clutching the edges of her Stormweaver Veil. The weight of the dark veil over her eyes felt heavier than usual, a constant reminder of the secrets she had to keep.

“This way, dear,” Sister Clara said with a gentle smile, pushing open a heavy wooden door.

The air in the room felt heavier as Nyx stepped inside with Sister Clara, her steps cautious and deliberate. The dim lighting from the flickering candles painted long shadows on the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that was both warm and foreboding.

Three priests stood waiting, their gazes turning immediately to Nyx. Two of them were familiar from the day before, but the third was new—a man with sharp, inquisitive eyes and robes that seemed just a little more ornate. His presence carried an authority that made Nyx’s chest tighten.

“This is the child they mentioned,” Sister Clara said, her voice gentle as she placed a reassuring hand on Nyx’s shoulder. “We need your help understanding her language.”

The senior priest stepped forward, his tone measured but kind. “Welcome, child. We’ve been hoping to learn more about you.”

Nyx glanced up, her veil shifting slightly with the motion. The priest’s expression softened when he noticed her reluctance.

“Do not be afraid. We mean you no harm,” he said.

Uriel’s calm voice translated in her mind. “He’s introducing himself, Nyx. Nod to acknowledge him.”

Nyx nodded slightly, keeping her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

The priests exchanged glances, their curiosity evident. “She doesn’t speak?” one of them asked.

“She understands us, but she hasn’t spoken,” Sister Clara explained, her brow furrowing. “I’ve tried, but there’s… a barrier.”

The senior priest stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Hmm. Let us try something.” He gestured toward a small table, its surface crowded with scrolls and old tomes. “Come, child. Sit here.”

Nyx hesitated but obeyed, perching on the edge of the wooden chair. The priests surrounded her, their presence both watchful and oddly comforting.

“We will recite phrases in various languages,” the senior priest began, unrolling a scroll filled with intricate markings. “Let’s see if she reacts to any of them.”

As they spoke, Nyx’s focus wavered between their voices and the shadows dancing on the walls. Most of the words meant nothing to her, though a few sounded faintly familiar, stirring something deep within her. When the priest recited a passage in an ancient dialect, Nyx’s head snapped up instinctively.

“That one,” Uriel whispered in her mind. “You recognize it because it’s close to the language of the gods.”

The priests noticed her reaction immediately. The younger one leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Did you see that? She understood!”

The senior priest nodded, excitement breaking through his composed demeanor. “This… this is not a common tongue. Few even know it exists. Who taught you this, child?”

Nyx froze, her body stiffening. She glanced toward Sister Clara, who looked just as puzzled as the priests.

“Nyx, remain calm,” Uriel urged. “Say nothing. Let them speculate.”

The senior priest pressed on, his tone soft but probing. “Where did you come from? Who taught you this language?”

Nyx lowered her gaze, her hands gripping the veil tighter.

“Enough,” Sister Clara said gently, stepping forward. “She’s frightened. Let’s not overwhelm her.”

The priests relented, though their curiosity still burned in their expressions. The youngest one’s gaze drifted to the veil covering Nyx’s eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said hesitantly, “but… may we see your eyes? Perhaps they’ll tell us more about you.”

Nyx stiffened, her heart pounding as her hands flew to her veil protectively.

“Do not remove it,” Uriel said firmly in her mind. “Trust me. This will only complicate things.”

The priests exchanged concerned glances as Nyx shook her head vigorously, her fingers clutching the veil with white-knuckled determination.

“She’s hiding something,” the youngest priest murmured.

“Or perhaps she’s simply afraid,” Sister Clara interjected, placing a protective hand on Nyx’s shoulder. “Let’s not push her.”

The senior priest nodded reluctantly. “Very well. We won’t force you, child. But the secrets you carry… They are heavy. I hope, one day, you’ll trust us enough to share them.”

Nyx exhaled shakily, her grip on the veil loosening slightly. She could feel their gazes lingering, but no one made another attempt to uncover her face.

Uriel’s voice broke the silence in her mind. “You handled that well, Nyx. They are curious, but they mean no harm—for now.”

As Sister Clara led Nyx out of the room, the priests watched her go, their expressions thoughtful and conflicted.

“She’s not an ordinary child,” the youngest priest said quietly.

The senior priest nodded. “No, she’s not. And whatever brought her here… it was no accident.”

———————————————

The winding halls of the church seemed to hum with activity as Sister Clara led Nyx toward a large wooden door. The faint sounds of laughter and excited whispers spilled out from beyond it, carried on the warm, golden light streaming through the high arched windows.

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Sister Clara glanced down at Nyx with a gentle smile. “Have you ever taken part in the Awakening Ritual, little one?”

Nyx tilted her head slightly, her fingers nervously tugging at the hem of her tunic. She had no idea what the woman meant.

Uriel’s voice echoed softly in her mind, calm as ever. “She’s asking if you’ve undergone the Awakening Ritual of Saiance. It’s seems to be a rite meant to unlock latent magical abilities. A common tradition in this kingdom.”

Nyx shook her head slowly, her movements hesitant.

Sister Clara nodded knowingly. “Ah, I see,” she said, though Nyx couldn’t understand her words. She pushed the door open, revealing a large, circular room.

Rows of wooden benches filled the space, where children—some as young as three—sat fidgeting nervously. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of energy, like the calm before a summer storm. At the center of the room stood a priest clad in pristine white robes adorned with intricate gold embroidery. Beside him, a tall, ornate staff glimmered faintly, its carved tip catching the sunlight filtering through stained glass windows that painted the floor in hues of red, green, and blue.

Sister Clara guided Nyx to an empty bench near the back. Nyx sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap as she observed the scene.

The priest tapped his staff on the stone floor, the sound ringing out like a bell and silencing the murmurs. He addressed the room, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of tradition.

“Children,” he began, “today marks the beginning of your journey into understanding the magic that flows within you. The Awakening Ritual of Saiance is a sacred rite—a gift from the divine that connects you to the world and to your purpose.”

Uriel’s calm voice translated each word into Nyx’s mind. “This ceremony is for awakening innate magical abilities, typically done at a young age.”

Nyx’s silver eyes flickered beneath her veil as she listened. Uriel added, “You’ve already experienced something far beyond this. The Dragon God of Wrath helped you unlock your magic long ago. But watching may still teach you something.”

The priest raised his staff, and the golden tip glowed softly, casting a warm light across the room. “Magic flows in all of us,” he said. “To awaken it, close your eyes. Focus on your breath, on the beat of your heart, and the energy that moves through you. Imagine it taking shape, connecting you to the divine.”

The children obediently closed their eyes, their small faces contorting with concentration. The priests and clerics moved gently among them, murmuring quiet encouragement.

Nyx remained still, her hands gripping the edge of her Stormweaver Veil. She could feel the faint ripples of magic in the room, delicate and unrefined. It was nothing compared to the power she had known in the forest, but it carried a simplicity and purity that tugged at something deep within her.

Uriel’s voice broke her thoughts. “These children are taking their first steps. You’ve already walked this path, Nyx. But look at their wonder—it’s something even you might learn from.”

Nyx hummed softly in agreement, her gaze lingering on the small hands that began to glow faintly with orbs of light. A few children succeeded, their faces lighting up with pride. Others struggled, their brows furrowed as their hands remained empty.

The priest’s voice rang out, gentle but firm. “For those who could not awaken their magic today, do not despair. Each of you has a spark within. It may take time, practice, or patience—but your magic will reveal itself when the moment is right.”

Uriel whispered, “He’s speaking from experience. Not everyone finds their magic easily.”

Nyx watched as the children who succeeded smiled broadly, their glowing hands trembling with excitement. Those who struggled were comforted by the priests, reassured with gentle words and pats on the shoulder.

The ritual was nearly complete. Priests moved among the children who had successfully harnessed their magic, their robes swaying with each step. The faint hum of energy lingered in the air as a priest approached, carrying a sleek, glowing device cradled in his hands—a Manometer.

The device was mesmerizing, a polished orb encased in an intricate metallic frame adorned with softly pulsing runes. Inside the sphere, an iridescent mist swirled lazily, its color shifting with every movement. The children whispered excitedly, their eyes fixed on the Manometer as the priest began his assessments.

One by one, he instructed the children to place their hands on the device. Each time, the orb flickered and pulsed, the mist within responding to the child’s magical essence. Numbers and symbols appeared faintly on the surface, glowing softly as the priest murmured his observations to a nearby scribe.

When the priest reached Nyx, she hesitated, her hands twitching slightly.

“Place your hand on the orb,” he instructed gently, his gaze curious but kind.

Nyx turned her head slightly, her unease clear. “Uriel, what should I do?” she whispered internally, her mind racing.

Uriel’s calm voice responded immediately. “The Lunar Veil of Deception is still in place. They will only see a false reading of your abilities.”

Nyx’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Uriel’s reassurance, but a twinge of doubt lingered. “What if they still see something strange?”

“That is possible,” Uriel admitted, “but they cannot detect your true power. Whatever they see will be a fabrication.”

Taking a steadying breath, Nyx stepped forward and pressed her hand against the orb. The cool surface tingled beneath her fingertips, and the swirling mist inside the Manometer stilled for a moment.

Then, the orb flared to life.

A brilliant glow erupted from the device, casting rays of silver and gold across the room. The swirling mist transformed into a storm of vibrant colors, twisting violently within the orb. Gasps echoed from the priests and children alike, the sudden intensity drawing everyone’s attention.

The priest holding the Manometer stumbled back a step, his wide eyes fixed on the orb. He glanced at Nyx, then back at the glowing device in his hands.

“This… this is…” he stammered, struggling to find his words.

Another priest hurried over, his own eyes widening as he took in the display. “What is it? What does it say?”

“I… I don’t know,” the first priest admitted, his voice trembling. “I’ve never seen a reading like this before.”

The priest conducting the ceremony approached quickly, his expression both intrigued and concerned. He peered at the orb, the runes and numbers flickering erratically across its surface, before shifting his gaze to Nyx.

Nyx stiffened under his scrutiny, her fingers clenching slightly as she withdrew her hand from the device. She could feel their stares, their whispered speculations buzzing around her like a swarm of bees.

“Uriel,” she murmured silently, her thoughts laced with panic, “what are they seeing?”

“I cannot say, Nyx,” Uriel replied, its voice calm but thoughtful. “The Lunar Veil of Deception obscures your true power, but I do not know the exact information the device is projecting. They are seeing something false, that much is certain.”

Nyx’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of the priests’ reactions. The orb’s glow faded slightly, but the swirling mist within continued to move erratically, as if alive.

One of the priests leaned closer to the orb, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “Such an unstable reading… but the power level is extraordinary. Could this child be…?”

“Quiet,” the ceremony’s leader interrupted, his sharp tone silencing the murmurs. He turned his piercing gaze on Nyx, his expression unreadable. “Who are you, little one?”

Uriel’s voice urged her calmly. “Do not answer. They cannot understand your language anyway. Stay silent.”

Nyx nodded slightly, keeping her head low and her veil securely in place. Her silence only seemed to heighten the priests’ intrigue.

The lead priest straightened, his voice steady but heavy with implication. “Whatever this child’s origin, they must be watched closely. Such power… it is unlike anything I have seen in decades.”

Nyx’s breath hitched. “Uriel, do you think they know who I am?”

“Highly unlikely,” Uriel replied. “But they are certainly startled by what the orb displayed. You are correct in assuming they are shocked by your apparent power level.”

Nyx’s mind churned with possibilities, but she forced herself to remain calm. Whatever they saw, it wasn’t her true strength—of that much, she was sure.

“Do not be afraid,” Uriel added gently. “You are safe, Nyx. They cannot uncover what lies beneath the veil.”

Drawing a deep breath, Nyx straightened her posture, keeping her face neutral as the priests exchanged hushed conversations. She wasn’t entirely sure what conclusion they’d drawn, but one thing was clear: she had drawn more attention than she wanted.