The afternoon sun beat Hirow’s back with its heat. Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it, but they had not seen shade since yesterday morning. The dry grass stretched on in every direction as if taunting him. As usual, Asahi seemed unperturbed by the weather.

It had been a week since they had left the band of merchants. In retrospect, it was a blessing they had encountered those men. Hirow felt a small pouch of coins in his pocket. It was much lighter than he liked, yet for the coin he spent, they had gotten about two weeks' worth of food. He had planned not to purchase anything until they reached a sizable settlement, yet at this point, he had to accept the unexpected.

At least Marcel's information had been correct so far. They still hadn’t seen Obsidius soldiers, which led him to assume they must be heading west. Hirow just hoped they would continue to outpace them. The longer Asahi was led on, the better. Every extra day is another chance to escape from Asahi’s wild hunt. Hirow whipped the sweat from his brow and pulled the straps of the backpack up.

In the moments of silence, he had begun to think. His direction was something he was so sure of when he met Talia. To protect her and help her find her identity was what he had promised. Yet, it was so naive to think it would be easy. He scratched his head in frustration. Perhaps Talia had spoken words of truth. His adventure was selfish, but without her, it would have no direction. It would be like being trapped in that old village again. Except this time, he would be wandering in unfamiliar territory, with more voices than the priests of the House of Lumen or his few friends fighting for his beliefs. Truth wasn’t a tricky thing back then.

Sweat trickled off his forehead and stained the knee of his pants as a shrill shout dissipated through the air. Startled, Talia briefly looked up as the hood of her cloak fell off. Asahi unsheathed his sword, and in moments his feet were pounding towards the source of the scream. Silver armor glinted in the sun. It was a warning that flashed across Hirow’s vision. He could feel his throat tightening as he realized who they were.

Two soldiers of Obsidius towered over a middle-aged woman clutching an infant. They were shouting, but he could not hear what they were saying. One swiveled to see the approaching warrior. His hand tugged at his sword, yet a blade slid into the visor of his helmet before the steel was halfway out of his sheath. Withdrawing the deadly weapon, Asahi stepped back as the man crumpled to his knees. Crimson liquid stained the brown foliage as the woman clutched her child tighter.

Asahi raised his blade and caught an overhead swing from the other soldier. He grunted under the weight of the man’s assault.

“You have no right to interfere,” the soldier lashed out, pressing his sword deeper into the groves of Asahi’s weapon. “She’s our kind, and we’ll deal with her how we please.”

Metal screeched against metal as Asahi thrust his blade to the hilt just short of his attacker’s hands. Putting leverage less to the man's advantage, he pushed the sword aside and struck like a viper at the soldier’s throat. Desperately, the man pulled his sword back, ready to fend off the attack, but it was too late. Asahi’s blade was stained with another Obsidian’s blood.

In one continuous motion, Asahi whipped his blade along the woven armor on his forearm and sheathed his sword. The woman cautiously rose and lowered the baby's head from her shoulder. Only a few moments of silence were allowed before the child's cries pierced the empty soundscape. As Hirow and Talia approached, the women began to tenderly hush the infant.

“Are there more,” Asahi demanded.

The women patted the child’s back and bounced them up and down. She responded with a level voice as if comforting the child was instinct. “It was only those two. Thank the light you came.” She glanced down at the child and moved her hand further up the infant's large head. “My home is not far from here. I do not have much to offer, but I must give you something for saving our lives. Perhaps a place to sleep tonight. For you and your friends.”

Asahi grumbled at the remark about friends and was ready to reject the notion before Hirow interjected. “Was your village attacked also?”

“Perhaps. I haven’t checked the nearest settlement. I live on my own, a few hours away from most people. It was my grandfather’s habit, and habits in my family don’t die easily.” She readjusted her hold and cradled the child over her shoulder. “Shall we get going?”

After about an hour, a two-story house appeared in the distance. Its first floor was made of rugged large bricks in different shades of stone. The second story jutted out a little further and was plastered in white. Among the never-ending fields, it seemed massive, with no trees to tower above it. They stopped at an arched doorway about half a head taller than Hirow. The woman opened the door and invited them in with a gesture from her unoccupied arm. Asahi’s black hair nearly brushed against the top of the door frame as he entered.

The inside seemed more cramped than the outside of the house had suggested. A large wooden table sat in the center of the room with eight chairs, two on each side. One chair lay on its side with a broken leg. The stone from the wall jutted out in the top left corner to make a long counter, only interrupted by a brick oven on the furthest wall. Embers of a fire still smoldered in the oven. To the right, a thin wooden stairway separated the kitchen from another room with a rocking chair and a few other pieces of furniture. A short bookcase, about half of Hirow’s height, stood against the rightmost wall of the other room. Only two worn books leaned against each other on the empty shelf. They seemed to make good company for each other.

The whole place had a homely feeling, but it seemed to carry memories of much livelier times. The women set down the baby in a small crib in the top right corner of the kitchen. She straightened her skirts as she turned to face her guests. “I apologize for the mess,” she said as she smiled in a motherly way. “Oh goodness, I never told you my name. I’m Amalia,” she set her hand on the side of the crib, “and this is Adam.”

Talia closed the door quietly so as to not disturb the sleeping child and flinched as the wood hit the door frame. The awkward silence persisted until Hirow began introductions. Talia pulled her hood tighter as she said her name.

“Oh, deary, there’s no need to hide your face,” Amalia soothed with her tender voice. “I promise no one is here to harm you.”

Talia apprehensively lowered her hood and let her radiant white hair spill out. Amalia gasped, “A Stellapuer.” Shivering, Talia jerked her hands back towards her hood. “No, no, no I don’t mean anything by it.” Her words raced to outpace Talia’s anxiety. “ In my thirty-seven years, you're only the second I’ve seen.”

Amalia’s eyes filled with childlike wonder as she approached the nervous girl. Twisting the ends of her hair, Talia fixed her gaze on the paneled floor. Sympathetic eyes meet hers as Amalia bent down and spoke with sincerity. “Your hair is beautiful. It’s as if the pure light of Lumen has graced a mortal.” Hirow frowned at the mention of a name he thought he had escaped. Amalia’s hands floated above Talia’s shoulders as if she were ready to embrace the girl. “You are blessed, child.”

The sweet words seemed so enticing. It was what she had wanted to hear since coming to this confusing world, but she knew she would be deluding herself. Blessed? This hair was anything but a blessing. This woman did not know what it meant to be a Stellapuer, yet her eyes were filled with such adoration.

Amalia backed off and straightened one of the crooked chairs around the table. “Give me about an hour, and I’ll have something ready for you to eat. Please make yourselves at home.”

Talia surveyed the room. It was in obvious disarray, yet the woman seemed to brush it off, as she waved them to the other room. “Let me . . .” Talia’s voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat to bring it back. It had been too long since she last spoke up. “Let me help. I want to learn.” Amalia looked between Hirow and Asahi as if waiting for their approval. “Please,” Talia added in case her previous statement was too assertive.

“Of course, I would love to teach you.” They shuffled into the other room, and Asahi plopped down on a wooden bench. He swung his legs up and pulled his sheath from a loop on his waist. Mindfully he set it against the nearest wall and stretched out the length of the board as he settled into a comfortable position.

Hirow incredulously shook his head upon seeing the marks of dirt Asahi’s boots left on the seat. Setting his backpack down, his attention was caught by the two books on the shelf. The smaller of the two had a worn leather cover. Groves grew from each corner like river deltas carving the earth. He flipped through the pages and saw haphazard handwriting broken up by dates. I must be some journal, he realized. Snapping the book shut he placed it back on the shelf. He had no interest in prying into Amalia’s personal life.

Holding the next book, he scowled at the title on the cover. ‘The Illuminator’ was printed in large gold letters that curled at the edges. The letters fed into each other to mimic an ancient script the book had been translated from. He had read it was a language spoken before the fall of Titans. The book was the scripture of the House of Lumen, yet it was thinner than he had remembered. Additionally, the illustration on the cover was different.

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From what he remembered, the cover was supposed to have a God with flaming golden hair reaching to a man in agony, twisting his hand, hoping to seize the God’s grasp. The cover he looked at now had a man and a woman facing each other, each holding an orb of light at their chests. A pattern of stars erupted between the two people and formed into a brilliant tree that shined with a slightly duller reflection than the title. He had never liked the other cover, it was too grandiose for him. The man at the bottom had bothered him also. To see a human represented with such little dignity disgusted him.

This cover was better, but he had to remind himself it was still the same book. Sliding it back onto the shelf, he took a seat in the rocking chair opposite Asahi and skewed towards the stairwell. He sighed, letting the tension out of his legs as he realized just how exhausted he was.

Just as Amalia had promised, after an hour, the scent of fresh bread and some stew wafted into the other room. “Food is ready,” she called.

Hirow poked Asahi’s shoulder to wake him up. Suddenly he woke and shot his hand straight for his sword. Letting out a brief grunt, he caught himself before tumbling off the edge of the bench and onto the floor. Hirow smiled, holding back a half-suppressed laugh.

They both entered the kitchen and took seats on different edges of the table. Hirow noticed the broken chair was off the floor and leaning against the wall.

“Deary, would you set the table.” Talia nodded and quickly placed bowls and spoons at every edge of the table. Moments later, Amalia ladled stew into each of the bowls. She served herself last and set the pot down back into the brick stove.

“I hope this is enough,” she said as she set a stone plate down on the table. On top of the stone plate, a wide piece of bread matched the diameter of the dish. Flour dusted the edges of the warm loaf. “Take a piece if you like,” Amalia gestured as she reached for the loaf. “You just tear it off like this.” She pulled at the edge and about a fourth of the bread separated from the center. Hot currents of air curled up as the gaps in the bread contracted. The fresh and comforting smell hugged Hirow’s nostrils until he could not resist any longer.

It was nice to finally have a warm meal after what felt like months. Despite the delicious food, he could not get the book out of his head. After stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth, he decided to ask.

“That book you have. I recognize the title.”

“The illuminator? Isn't it a wonderful book?” Amaila beamed as she scraped the last drops of stew in her bowl with bread.

“I haven’t had the best experiences with that book.”

“That is a shame. That book has been nothing but a blessing in my life. It was my great-grandfather’s. It was one of the few items he took with him when he left Obsidius.”

“So when that soldier earlier. . .” Asahi let the spoon drop from his hands. Hirow expected him to rush into the other room to snatch his sword, but to his surprise, Asahi remained calm. “Do you still support your home country?”

“There are traditions my family has never let go of, but I come to identify less with the country with each passing day. They have changed since Ekburt has ruled. My grandfather told me the current king was but a child when his father left.”

“So that book comes from Obsidius,” Hirow inquired.

“It does. If only the House of Lumen still influenced Obsidius today. Perhaps the nation would be headed in a different direction.”

“I doubt it,” Hirow shoveled the last spoonful of soup into his mouth. “They would be who they are with or without it. Now, they just don’t hide behind the pretense of religion. I appreciate the honesty.” He said in a dry tone. “Not that it matters to them.”

“And what would that pretense be,” Amalia defiantly responded. It seemed the woman had more fire in her than she let on.

“Oh I don’t know, perhaps they would justify genocide by cleansing those tainted by Obscurses’ darkness. Or maybe they would wish people the best as they slaughter them. Telling them they could be reborn as the stars above. Or, now this one is great, they would claim a mandate over the entire world. Saying it was them who killed the false creator and since their kings descended from . . .” Hirow paused, his eyes darting around the room for the missing information.

“Faralanther,” Amalia added.

“Yes him.” Hirow snapped his fingers at the answer as if catching her words in midair. “Since their kings descended from Faralanther, they would be the saviors of the world.”

She crossed her arms in patience, waiting for Hirow to finish, and responded with uneasy tranquility. “You seem to have a very different idea of what is in that book than I do. It is not the first time I have heard accusations like this. It seems the House of Lumen is very different in Caulthwin than its home country.”

“The core of it doesn’t change. No matter where it's from. They promise salvation for our tainted souls. I doubt your version of it is much different.” Hirow folded his arms and slouched into the chair.

“Our souls are not tainted. We have simply been blinded to their light. Obscurses may have brought us living forms, but that thing did not create our souls. Obscurses is our mortal creator whether we like it or not, but we are so much more than him.” Amalia leaned in. “Hirow, have you ever seen the shape of a soul?”

Talia perked up at the question, yet Hirow responded. “I can’t say I have.”

“Most people would say the same thing. Humanity has lived in Obscurses’ presence for so long that we’ve been blinded to them. Yet through the grace of Lumen, the creator of the Titans, you can begin to see it. It’s in every person’s countenance. The soul is almost like a sun at midday. It fills your entire body.” She let her words linger in the air until they had settled on each person's mind.

“Like Anna,” Talia muttered in amazement. “She could see them.”

Hirow gave Talia a sidelong look as he shifted in his chair. “She is likely a special case. We have no idea what she truly saw.” Hirow quickly offered an explanation to Amalia. “A blind half-luminary girl we met.”

Amalia nodded in thought. “Matter doesn’t only reflect physical light. It must have been the light within she saw.”

“She said I was brighter than anything she had ever seen.”

“Talia, do you have a purpose in life? Some urge that's so strong, that even if someone tried to sway you from it you wouldn’t budge.”

She pulled at the strands of her snowy hair and considered the question. “To be kind and to help others no matter the cost.” Timidly, she nodded to reassure herself what she had said.

“That is wonderful,” Amalia said as she blinked moisture from her eyes. “My Grandfather had a saying. Intent polishes life, and life polishes matter.” She clasped Talia’s folded hands. “Your light is so bright because you have intent. An intent to live your life so beautifully.”

Hirow straightened in his chair. “Does your book say what this intent has to be?” The priests in his village had defined it for everyone. Pray, worship, follow our commandments, and live only how we tell you to live. Their sermons rushed through his head.

“It gives only one simple principle for intent. It's called the principle of creation. Live your life in a way that it creates more than it destroys.” She took her hands off Talia’s and extended her fingers across the table. “Creation can be physical like building a table or a house. It can also be less concrete. It can be building relationships. It can even be building each other up. Intent doesn’t just unveil our light but the light of every person we affect with our intent.”

“It is a bit different,” Hirow begrudgingly admitted. “It is more tolerable than what I’m used to hearing.” He paused realizing the words that were slipping out of his mouth. Words about a religion he had loathed so deeply. Amalia’s kind eyes made him hold back his next comment. “This Lumen is still someone I feel no connection to and still no desire to connect with.” Eager to get the attention off of him, he got up and pushed in his chair. “Asahi shouldn’t we get going soon.”

Asahi sternly nodded and pushed himself up. “Will you be safe?” Amalia blinked at the surprising question.

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand to shoo away the undue concern. “My husband should be back by late evening. Today happened to be his weekly shopping trip to the nearby village. I can not stress what a blessing it was for you to come by.”

Asahi gave another bob of his head to the satisfactory answer. Talia grabbed her cloak from the back of the chair and helped Amalia gather the dishes. As they set the bowls, utensils, and plate on the counter, Talia leaned in to whisper something into Amalia’s ear. She suddenly hugged the girl and tightly pulled her in. Talia’s arms were rigidly at her sides as she let the women’s tender affection tug at a distant memory of a mother. Hirow and Asahi gathered their things in the other room, and when they came back Talia was at the door rubbing the edges of her eyes. She took a deep breath and stood a little taller than she had the past two weeks.

Perhaps the light in her soul was growing. Hirow was tempted to brush the thought aside but let it stay this time.

Amalia waved them goodbye as they walked from the lone house. It was just a woman standing in the doorway, but Hirow wished he could see more. Talia’s eyes lit up at something perhaps only she could see. What is the shape of Amalia’s soul, he wondered. What is the shape of Talia’s? And mine, what is the shape of mine? The question was uncomfortable because deep down he knew the answer. A soul who can’t see the future and a soul without intent was surely an ugly thing.