Gold leaf and bright luxury filled this carriage. Luxury that I had never seen before in person. Even the cups my parents were drinking out of looked like they were made of gold, and had no small amount of decoration on them. But the endless luxury was easily boring after a while, especially as there were no windows to look out of. Just tapestries of people and cities. But the carriage wasn’t dark and stuffy, because of the lack of windows. There were something like light bulbs which were artistically hidden but gave the carriage a brightness and warmth. Alongside that, there must’ve been air conditioning which filled the carriage with refreshing, if somewhat lifeless, air.

There was a single painting in this whole carriage, it sat behind my Father. It was of a landscape untouched by human hands. In the middle of the painting was a black mark, a Fissure. Dominating the image, and surrounding the black Fissure, was an army. That army surrounded a single person, someone who looked a bit like a younger version of my Father.

Even at his age now he was still powerful, his muscles and strong face with a neatly cropped beard and short hair made him still look like a warrior. Even though his salt-and-pepper hair spoke that his glory days were behind him. His ornate clothes were perfectly tailored to his muscular body.

My mother was far younger. Seemingly more of a mistress for a rich and powerful man rather than a wife. She was beautiful and drank with grace as she did some needlework on a purple piece of fabric. The same colour purple my father wore around his neck beneath his ornate high-collared shirt.

From the look she gave him, it was clear she held tender feelings for him.

It was hard to keep paying attention to the surroundings, as there was an intense stare coming from my brother.

I looked at him.

‘Yes, Younger Brother,’ I said to him, finally breaking the silence which filled the carriage.

Seriously, there weren’t any sounds either coming from the horses or the creaking of the carriage wheels. Well, I guessed they might’ve creaked. Nor were there any rocking or movement motions. Magic was seriously great if it could make such things as this carriage.

He got off the seat he was sitting on and came sat on the seat I was. Even though it was an adult seat, it wasn’t big enough for us two children to sit on it comfortably.

‘You were dead, I know you were,’ he said in a quiet, venomous tone. ‘The system said so, too. So how are you alive?’

‘The will of the gods.’

‘Gods? There you go again sprouting rubbish, dear brother. There is only the veritable goddess. Or have you forgotten all that we have been taught by our tutors?’

That was a good question. I thought back through memories. Not my own, but the ones which had come with this body. Maybe I should’ve done that instead of focusing upon the obnoxious luxury of this carriage.

Where we lived wasn’t any better than this carriage. It could be argued it was worse as there was much more because of the size of the place where we lived. Needing to be quick, I focused upon memories of the goddess. Yep, it wasn’t hard to remember them as the same lessons had been endlessly repeated time and time and time and time and time again. The goddess was good. The goddess had saved humanity. The goddess deserves our loyalty because of what she had done. Stories of her leading her chosen out to nowhere before the Calamity of the Fissures. And her name: Sanctuary of Peace.

But there were memories from this body about other gods and followers of other gods being welcomed into this Sanctuary soon after the Calamity of the Fissures had started. But as things got worse—or so he had learnt from forbidden books hidden, maybe even forgotten, in the depths of our family’s library—then worship of other gods and goddesses other than Sanctuary of Peace had been forcibly stamped out in a mass of hysteria, fear, and political power posing as religious authority.

The official histories touched upon this as the Time of Troubles. But they claim that once people realised the grace and power of Sanctuary of Peace they freely converted to their worship. The fact of contradicting evidence from the few diaries and texts from that time lost, or hidden, in our family’s library said otherwise was something I would not tell my brother.

It was no wonder I was the Black Sheep of the House.

I could tell he wanted me to say something to him. It was strange. He loathed me, yet still within that loathing I could tell he really wanted me close to him. It was a similar dynamic which led me to breaking free of my family back on Earth.

‘I haven’t forgotten, brother,’ I said to him quietly. ‘So why did you do it?’

‘The goddess gave me a vision telling me that you would bring shame upon our House and harm The Sanctuary Heartlands. I would rather you dead than disgraced and excommunicated, brother. So I killed you.’

‘So why then, brother, did she bring me back to life?’

He looked away from me. ‘I know not, but I hope you would go willingly to your death, again, next time. Or better yet, brother, do not tread down such dark and goddess cursed paths.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

‘I also pray, brother, that when my time to die happens I would take my death with as much grace as you did. It was hard to beat you to death with that stone. Yet you took it with as much expression as those Three Traits do when we beat upon them.’

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. My brother beat me to death just to avoid damaging the sanctity of the House.

That was harsh.

Harsh and far worse than what any of my so-called-family did back on Earth.

‘What I want to know, brother, is what happened to your traits. You had nine, and one of them was mana capable. Now you only have three, and your Mana Capable is now a Divine Blessing. Did the goddess both bless and curse you before bringing you back?’

That was as good of a truth as anything I could come up with. ‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I’m sorry, brother, but please take your new role with as much expression as you did earlier. And I will strive to face your departure with as much expression too.’

None of this made sense. I was about to ask my brother what he meant when my father stood up.

His presence filled the entire spacious carriage. ‘It is time for us to depart. We have arrived. On time too.’

I could imagine him speaking in such a tone when surrounded by his troops just before they entered the fissure.

My mother put down her needlework and stood up. She made her way next to my Father and together they climbed down the stairs.

When did the door open and the stairs appear? I had not noticed that happening. Damn, magic was great. Maybe that locked, and used, trait was me being mana capable. I knew, from my body’s memory, that it was rare to be mana capable. Only those who had the trait before the Trait Unlocking and Entrusting Ceremony were capable of using magic.

Once my parents had climbed down the stairs, I followed them. My brother followed me.

We were in a large, and empty courtyard. Impressively tall pillars which reminded me of Ancient Greek pillars held up a roof creating a covered walkway around an equally tall wall. The wall was impressively plain and shockingly white. It was so shockingly white that even the long shadows cast by the pillars in front of the wall and the other side of the courtyard barely darkened the wall.

An ornate, overly large, and pointed doorway was directly ahead of where the steps down from the carriage ended. Both doors were open and led into a large, yet simple corridor lined by lights which illuminated images which represented Sanctuary of Peace, even if none of them showed her in any detail. A common trait for all images of her, and why she was often called goddess rather than Goddess or Sanctuary of Peace.

I followed my parents as they entered the empty corridor. After three images of the goddess, there was a simple wooden door, stained in a dark colour. Despite its stark simplicity, I could tell that great pains had gone into creating this door. It fitted the door frame perfectly. And the wood grain, carefully made all the more beautiful by the careful choice of stain, was almost uniform in all the planks of wood.

As they made their way to stand outside of the door, it opened soundlessly. A slender priestess wearing a long and narrow pristine white dress, with tight sleeves tied onto the clothes by the shoulder, opened the door. It took me a moment to realise that the clothes she was wearing were almost exactly the same as what the expressionless Three Traits had worn when they came into the forest for me.

But unlike the expressionless face and close cropped hair, she had long beautiful almost pure black hair. And her pretty face held a smile of contentment and sereneness on it. She then stood aside and allowed the four of us to enter the room.

As I entered the room, a heavy feeling sank into my soul. The same feeling that reminded me of those two admins who messed about with my soul.

Whatever slight hope I had unknowingly and unwittingly buried within shattered, especially when I saw a high-ranking member of the clergy waiting for us sitting next to a simple white stone cuboid box the size of a table.

I was doomed.

No matter what God said, or Death, it was too late. They were going to alter whatever they could of me. And…

And…

Didn’t my brother call me a three trait?

He did.

And all three traits were…

Oh damn it all to hell.

I wanted to run.

The door behind me closed with a faint, but audible in the quietness, click.

I was trapped.

Trapped and out of hope.

All I could hope was that they alter me enough I would ever forget having hope and dreams.

With a sense of dread and a numbing of sensation, I allowed my father to lead me towards the clergy and the cuboid stone box. Before I realised what was happening, I was flat on my back looking up at the distant celling vaulted celling. The sounds of my heart beating heavily in my ears muffled whatever was being said.

Sharp pains stabbed into my soul.

I screamed.