I watched the priest return to his prayers from my perch on the rafters. He hadn’t looked up at me or anything, he just stopped talking out loud so I assumed he went back to praising the lord since he was still on his knees and all.
But let’s be honest. You deserve some thanks too, doing what you do even in these conditions. Helping people even if its by yourself.
I silently shifted into the form of a butterfly, and fluttered down to the space in front of the altar at the top of the steps where he knelt. His eyes were closed so he didn’t see me, and he certainly didn’t hear me, so I just shifted back to my own self and waited for him to finish.
On closer inspection he was human, slender, almost starved, and missing his left ear. He trembled as he prayed, the corners of his eyes moistened every so often, but never allowed a tear to escape. Thick calluses covered the fidgeting fingers he clasped in front of his heart, and there were more than a few clumsily stitched patches on his off white vestments.
I withheld the sigh that rose to my lips so as not to disturb him. The villagers of Kormath left everything behind to follow their faith in the creator, and a good number of them were from this empire. And if this is the state their churches are in all over the country I can’t say I blame them.
Another few minutes passed, and he made some symbol on his forehead before opening a pair of strikingly blue eyes.
He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, then gawked at me for a minute before averting his gaze to the steps between us.
I had Uriel fetch his name from his status, then I smiled and said. “So Iskel, how are you?”
#
Iskel wasn’t born to any prestigious family, and being an orphan meant he never knew his roots or got the chance to learn a trade at the poor orphanage he’d been left at. With no other options, he quickly learned to do whatever he could to make ends meet once he was kicked out.
Odd jobs, unsavory tasks, anything and everything to get a roof over his head and food in his belly. Every day he regretted what he had to do to get by, associating with cruel and unscrupulous people so as not to starve, but he always told himself that ‘It’s either them or me.’ and swallowed down his shame saturated conscience to survive.
But throughout it all he was never able to escape his origins. No matter where he went to flee the things he’d done he always found another little orphanage somehow sponsored by the eternally impoverished church of the creator.
Finally overcome with guilt, he turned to the faith trying to convince himself that he was just giving back, but before he knew it the old priest of this parish had him in vestments and performing services in his stead–too old to carry on, he soon passed away leaving Iskel with no choice but to continue.
He resented the old man for dying so soon after he’d started, to think that a priest would trick him, but didn’t have time to let it fester as the ever needy people around him kept him busy ministering to their needs. Of course he had no choice but to comply, since he needed them to come back and donate the funds he needed to keep the church running–and himself off the streets.
And it was in this work he found his faith. At first he simply followed the routine, said the prayers, and on occasion, made bits up using his own life experience to steer others away from making the many mistakes of his early adulthood.
That’s when he began to use magic. It was only a little at first, but the more people came to mass the more powerful he became, not that it helped restore anything more than a few cuts here and there, but it only served to reinforce that he was on the right path–that his struggles had actually meant something.
And now, today, a miracle came. Terrible power was displayed outside the city, and he knew he had to soothe the hearts of his flock so he fabricated some story about God’s mercy, and to his shock and amazement, the people started being healed when they came up for the blessing. He felt no power leave him, he hadn’t even invoked the spell so as to conserve it for emergencies, yet they were healed, one and all, without fail. It was as if his prayers had been answered, and he said as much, thinking the angel of the lord might still be near and carry his gratitude off to heaven directly.
But then he opened his eyes.
He didn’t believe what he saw, couldn’t believe. This was no angel, so how was there someone here? He hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t smelled, nor even felt anyone–and thirty plus years in the bad parts of town made him very aware of his surroundings and the approach of others.
Yet even after clearing his tired eyes, the figure was still there, clad in ordinary clothes, but with their very presence seeming to still the air of the always drafty chapel, instilling a warmth that chased away the cold of evening, and absorbing his attention while refusing to be denied no matter how he tried to rationalize.
So he looked away, too afraid to even move. This is no ordinary person! I can’t even feel their mana! I don’t even know what brought them here! All I can do is listen and obey and hope they aren’t here for my life.
“So Iskel, how are you?”
Their voice came as gently as a stream but bore the weight of the ocean. Every synapse fired at the sound of his name, a name he never shared with strangers, and at that instant he knew with whom he was speaking. “My Lord! I am well! Thank you for gracing us and this humble place!”
Crash!
He slammed his head down into the step before him. He meant to bow, but since he was already on his knees and even more terrified than he was before, he rushed the action and now felt the blood ooze from his forehead as his quaking consciousness realigned itself.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A soft sigh escaped the lips of his Lord and the throbbing pain he felt faded away. In disbelief he raised his head just enough to touch his wound, but there was nothing but smooth healthy skin there. Even the blood on the step had disappeared.
“T–thank you again. Your benevolence is always appreciated.”
“Do you like it here?”
He froze. Normally he’d say yes, it was the best position in life he’d ever been in, but now he felt decades of suffering get opened up as never before. Do I like it here? Here? In this miserable place? Slaving away each and every day just to repeat it year after year? Do I like it?
He shook. Rage and resentment finally released after being bottled up for far too long and just as he was about to shout, a warm, soft, yet firm hand lifted his chin to gaze upon a face that struck him silent.
He never knew his parents but in that face he saw them both reflected, smiling warmly, in understanding, accepting and embracing his anger, regret, fear, doubt, and shame–allowing his deeds to pass without punishment.
Tears washed away his hatred, but doubt festered in its wake. “I–it’s hard. It’s so hard. I’m doing the best I can but it’s never enough! How am I supposed to be enough?”
The Lord wiped his cheeks dry, then said. “I would start by believing in yourself just a little more.”
What? What the heck is that supposed to mean? I do so much for you and this is what you tell me?
He gulped, desperate for something more. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand.”
The Lord laughed, and the warmth that had filled the room bled into him, filling the void inside him.
“Magic is affected by how you picture it. If you doubt yourself it’ll weaken. And you are full of doubt.”
He blinked. “But my power stems from… What?”
“That power stems from the system and, like free will, is given equally to all. Whether or not you nurture it, and how, is up to you, but if you seek to use it well, for the betterment of the world, then I’m always happy to help.”
System? Is that the divine matrix that the observers see? The will of the world? Is that what God calls it? Is that all it is to them? And help? If I awakened my magic all on my own, and continue to use it to heal those in need, does that mean God will help? What would that even look like?
“How do you mean? What would I need to do to get your help?”
“Use your power here. Practice everyday until you can’t anymore. You’ll get better at it, accumulate more mana, and that’ll attract more people, which will bring more donations, which will boost your confidence and give you the means to learn new spells and increase your influence.”
Iskel looked down at his hands, and an ambitious grin spread across his face. “And then… Then I’ll be able to… .”
Finally escape poverty! Become someone remarkable! Succeed!
The Lord clapped and patted his shoulders. “Exactly! You’ll be able to make a real difference around here. Maybe there won’t be any slums anymore.”
The selfless thought physically knocked him from his selfish revelry and he sat back on his legs–nearly falling off the step in the process–but an unseen force held him in place before fear could even set in.
His smile faded, and he muttered. “No more slums?”
Then… Then no one will end up like me. No one will be forced to face the situations I did, and… And since this is a mission from God then that means I can finally, truly, make up for all I’ve done! I can hold my head high once more and not fear for my future! I’ll be free!
In his excitement he looked up at the face of the Lord, eager to see his parents again, but this time his heart almost forgot to beat. On instinct, he averted his eyes, painfully aware of just how close he’d been to death, and life returned to him.
I… Yes… I forget myself. This isn’t some noble patron looking to feel good about a donation. This is God. And though they’ve been gentle and patient with me, I am here to serve, not the other way around.
He bowed low, slowly this time, still struck by the glimpse of pure white light he saw issue from beneath the hood. “I understand now. Everything. All of it. I’m right where I’m supposed to be, and I always had what I needed to make the difference I wanted to. Needed to. Thank you.”
The Lord stood, tapped his staff on the warped and partially rotten floorboards and a wave of light straightened and restored them and the rest of the chapel to pristine condition. “I’m glad I could help. So let this mark your first step toward changing this city for the better.”
A slow, sarcastic, clap broke the silence that followed and a procession of men in stark white robes filed into the restored chapel.
Iskel glanced back at them and furrowed his brow. First God almighty visits, and now these strange fellows… But I don’t need a label to know these newcomers are up to no good.
He leveled a stern look their way and asked. “Welcome to the church of the Creator, is there something I can help you with?”
The man at the lead of the new group, the one who’d been clapping stopped, and looked up at the dias behind Iskel. “An impressive trick turning this ruin into something so immaculate. But you waste your power when you can ill afford it.”
#
Who the heck is this joker? I only just got done dealing with the flood of emotions I accidentally opened out of that priest! I felt so bad about it I made up a new spell to fix this place up. I even cast it as soon as the system said it was ready so I could escape this crazy conversation, and now I’ve got some shady sorts slow clapping as they stroll into the church! Cliche much? What are you, some sorta mob boss?
I watched him a moment more but he didn’t do anything other than stare at me. I glanced around just to be sure, but there wasn’t anyone behind me. “Sorry, were you talking to me?”
He pushed up his spectacles and frowned. “Arrogant. As to be expected. But yes. I was talking to you. I need you to come with us. You will comply, naturally, unless you’d like us to use force. But that would be a shame, considering all you’ve done to restore this place.”
Arrogant? Me? Dude look in a mirror! I glanced at Iskel but he didn’t look back at me. Well, he’ll be fine as long as they don’t try to take hostages. But what should I do? Lead them away? Go with them and see where it leads? Confront them here? Try to talk it out and pry some information out of them? Might be a good idea to check boss man’s status too.
I thought, and Uriel buzzed in answer.
Name: Benedict Andrun
Species: Human
Health: 320
Mana: 800/800
Endurance: 423/423
Strength: 13 + 3
Agility: 120 + 150
Speed: 142 + 170
Toughness: 1 + 200
Spirit: 450 + 350
Status conditions: Wind's grace; Stone's endurance; Spirit siphon
Titles: Follower of False Gods (Gregorious Durdanhal); Blasphimer; Liar; Murderer; Corruptor; Agent of Ruin; Sower of Discord; Narcissist
Abilities:
Advanced Calculation lv: 40
Mana sense lv: 100
Mana control lv: 2
Advanced Arithmatic lv: 100
Command lv: 59
Order essence magic (Master) lv: 22
Chaos essence magic (Master) lv: 22
Meditation lv: 77
Spirit healing/harming magic (Adept) lv: 46
Close quarters casting lv:52
Dagger fighting (Adept) lv: 24
Magic tool crafting (Adept) lv: 12
Oh. That’s… That’s just no good.