She reached out, her fingertips grazing the orb's surface. Instantly, a wave of sensations unlike any she had felt before washed over her. The place where her skin met the orb tingled, sending ripples of warmth and coolness coursing through her. The orb, surprisingly smooth, pulsed under her touch, both cool and warm at once.

As her palm fully embraced the orb, it glowed brighter, the colors within swirling faster. The world around her dimmed, her focus narrowing to the connection between her hand and the orb. Suddenly, her mind was awash with visions—unfamiliar places, strangers' faces, emotions, and experiences foreign yet intensely personal.

When the visions ebbed, a system message flickered into her consciousness: "Passive Skill Acquired: Charm." The words resonated within her, followed by disbelief.

She felt a subtle shift, a lightness not just in her body but in her presence. It was as if an invisible layer had been draped over her. Mentally, she noticed a newfound clarity and confidence, a sense of being more in tune with those around her, understanding unspoken thoughts and feelings with an ease she'd never known.

The priest, for example. Before, his serenity seemed unshakable. Now, she he sensed layers beneath his calm exterior: a flicker of weariness around his eyes, the subtle tension in his shoulders.

Then, the realization of her acquired skill sparked a surge of irritation. Charm. It felt almost ironic, receiving a skill her sister wielded effortlessly, naturally drawing others to her with charisma and grace. Yet, as she dwelled on this, her annoyance simply vanished. Now she had what her sister had. So what? She simply had to do better.

Turning to the priest, she ventured a question, her voice unexpectedly smooth and compelling. "You've been on your feet all day, haven't you? Thank you for guiding us through this.”

The priest's eyes narrowed slightly, his posture stiffening in response. She had interrupted the ceremony, after all — a realization that hit her abruptly.

Feeling a sudden urge to retreat from his displeasure, she paused, unsure. Yet, just like how her frustration with getting charm turned into acceptance, her fear quickly faded. She saw a chance to try out her new charm skill, and she’d take it. "Just one minute with me won't ruin your day, I promise." To her relief, she watched as his expression softened, the rigidity in his stance easing.

After a moment, the priest looked her up and down. Then he shook his head. "Wait here," he said, before signaling another priest. The second priest approached, eyebrows raised in surprise but nodding in agreement as he was instructed to continue the ceremony in his place.

The priest she'd spoken to then gestured for her to follow him into a side room. As they walked, he mentioned, almost apologetically, "I wish we could offer more comfort at this time, like a bath to ease the tension. Unfortunately, we have no such provisions here."

She offered a gentle smile. "That's quite alright. Just being heard feels like a comfort in itself."

Her words seemed to ease the priest's concern, and he offered a warm smile in return. "I am glad, child. Now, please, get rid of those dreadful garments and wear this." He handed her a set of long robes, surprisingly finding one that matched her size perfectly.

Her smile widened as she examined the robes. "Could I perhaps have something a bit less... formal? I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a sister of the church.”

The priest frowned. "It is a noble path, joining the grandeur of the order–”

The priest saw the smile on the girl’s face drop.

“–but of course, let me find something more suitable for you."

She brightened, but then her apprehension spiked. She insisted on following the priest, claiming the need to choose for herself and curious about where the clothes were stored.

The priest led her to a small chamber where garments were kept for such occasions. He presented her with a simple, well-tailored tunic and comfortable leggings, both crafted from fine, soft fabric. There were also a pair of sturdy, soft-leather shoes.

As she started changing, the priest recoiled, raising his hands. "It isn't proper for a young lady to change in the presence of others," he protested.

Unfazed, she responded, “I assure you, it's quite alright. I don't mind at all." Discarding her worn shoes, she considered the new ones provided. They were clearly a better fit than her battered, dirt-streaked old footwear.

Despite her assurances, the priest insisted on decorum, preparing to leave for her privacy. "I must insist. Please, take your time," he said, turning towards the door.

No. What if charm runs out? In a bid to keep him in the room, she quickly said, "Could you stay? Just... I'm a bit scared to be alone right now."

The priest hesitated. Finally, he agreed, standing at the door his back turned.

Once she was dressed, she suggested they leave. However, the priest had another idea. He wanted to show her something special, and, reluctantly, she agreed. The priest guided her towards an impressive central staircase, its steps winding upwards. The sound of conversations drifted up to them as they climbed. Curiosity piqued, she peered over the railing to observe groups of her peers below, engaged in discussions with various priests.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"What are they doing? Why are some separated from those who leave after receiving their abilities?"

With a broadening smile and a lift of his chin, the priest responded, his voice swelling with pride. "The young ones below have shown potential beyond the ordinary. They're being prepared for more advanced training.”

"Well, yes, of course... old man? Sir? Nice priest?" she ventured, trying to find the right term.

He chuckled lightly. "Just 'priest' will do.”

“Well, Mr. Priest, what I meant was, what exactly makes them so special?"

"Each of them possesses unique qualities or an affinity for certain aspects of magic that, if nurtured, could greatly benefit both them and the wider community."

"Doesn't that include me now?" she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

The priest's expression turned thoughtful, and after a pause, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. Do you wish to join them?"

She quickly shook her head, declining the offer to join. As they continued their walk in silence, she began thinking about the orb. She had always wondered what exactly the church was, and how they had managed to obtain such items. She unleashed her torrent of questions. "What kind of church is this? What secrets are you keeping? Who do you serve? Where’d you get the orb?"

The priest, with a serene look, unfolded the lore of their faith.

What she thought of as the "church" was actually the Order of the Illuminated, devoted to a pantheon of gods that had long since vanished from the world. However, their teachings and sacred items remained, with the orb being one such relic, entrusted to the Order for safekeeping and to be passed down through generations.

He acknowledged that, like any ancient organization, the Order had its dark chapters – moments in history where the pursuit of power or knowledge had led them down questionable paths. Nonetheless, their primary mission was to ready the world for the gods' foretold return, harnessing the distinct abilities of their members to ready to welcome them back.

At her prompting, he confessed that conflicts and ideological splits had fractured the once-unified faith, with the Order of the Illuminated at odds with some of the other groups. The discord stemmed from each believing in a different path to serving the divine and the role of passive skills in their worship.

As she thought about what to ask next, everything changed. The stairs ended, and they stepped into a corridor dimly lit and cool. Darkness crept around them.

Silence, then fear took over her thoughts. Memories of her caretaker's lessons in the dark, meant to help her sense mana, surfaced. Those lessons had left her feeling forgotten, surrounded by shadows.

Without thinking, she tapped into her mana. Concentrating, she created a small light in her hand, breaking through the darkness. The orb's glow pushed the shadows away, a small beacon in the gloom.

The priest watched, awed. "Your ability marks you as someone of significant standing.”

She said nothing, and they continued.

They entered a hidden sanctuary, lit softly, its walls telling ancient stories through murals. At its heart was a scepter, resting on a pedestal, its presence ethereal. Like a manifestation of mana and light.

She casually flicked the orb of light towards the wall, where it burst softly, scattering light particles that briefly flew upwards before fading.

Suddenly, the priest dropped to his knees, bowing deeply in a gesture of reverence. The suddenness of his action took her by surprise, her confusion evident.

"Yes," he said, looking up with fervor, "I hoped to be the first to witness her return."

This made her pause, thoughts racing. Why would he act this way towards her? After a moment, the question formed on her lips, "Do you think I'm one of the gods?"

“Yes.” He knelt more deeply.

His answer left her grappling with disbelief, yet she pressed on. "And you want credit for this?"

"Yes," he confessed, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"What is this scepter?" She waved at it. The scepter, resting on the pedestal, was adorned with intricate carvings, its material gleaming under the sanctuary's soft light.

“It’s ancient, forged for the gods and their chosen," he explained. "It's said to be imbued with divine essence, capable of incredible feats."

As she took in the scepter's intricate carvings, her suspicion deepened. The room, despite housing such a significant artifact, was surprisingly unguarded. No sentries stood watch, and there were no visible protective enchantments. "What rank are you in the Order, Mr. Priest?" she questioned, her gaze sweeping the room for anything she may have missed.

“I’m of medium rank,” he answered. “In the Order, that means I have the honor of overseeing ceremonies and guiding those who come to us seeking wisdom, but I don’t make decisions.”

"And if someone not chosen tried to handle it?"

The priest hesitated, then admitted, "It will burn anyone not blessed to ash. But you, being the incarnation of the goddess, will face no harm."

Her alarm spiked at the revelation, anger surging within her like a fire, red and hot, yet she managed to keep her exterior calm. "How was that discovered?"

"Historically, there have been... unfortunate tests. Unchosen individuals who touched it confirmed the danger."

Frustrated by his repetition, she asked, "Are you trying to get me killed?"

His reaction was immediate – surprise and confusion. "No! I truly believe in your connection to the goddess," he insisted. "I've seen the qualities of the goddess in you. Your wisdom, your strength, your ability to heal and bring peace, the way you understand the hearts of those around you, the light you bring into darkness — it all mirrors her essence."

Driven by a surge of irritation, she demanded, "Prove your faith then. How much of yourself have you devoted to this belief?"

The priest's confusion deepened. "I've given my life to the Order, to the worship of the goddess. I would fast for weeks on your behalf, walk through fire to prove my devotion. I would endure the harshest cold, let go of all worldly possessions, even place myself in harm's way without a second thought.”

Her frustration boiled over. "On the ground," she commanded.