The day began with the weight of expectation. Cale's group was directed to the White Rose Hall for the first theoretical class of the cycle: History and Ethics of the Order.
The hall was wide, with columns of white marble rising up to a vaulted ceiling. Colorful stained glass windows filtered the morning light in golden tones, playing reflections on the cold floor. The air in there smelled of old incense, aged paper... and judgment.
Cale was one of the last to enter. He kept his hood up to half of his face and slipped through the polished stone benches. He found a seat in the last row, near a high window. Next to him, Mikhal sat, waving with a friendly smile.
Why did that guy still insist on sitting next to him?
In front of the room, a woman of unperturbed posture was already waiting for them. Her pink hair was braided to the waist, and her eyes were so clear that they almost looked white. She didn't talk. Shee just watched. Shee wore dark blue robes with gold details, embroidered symbols on the sleeves and collar.
"Isn't it the symbol of Kevhorn?" a young woman murmured, not seeming to be the only one to have noticed.
The eyes of the priestess swept the room with surgical precision. She didn't bother with the whispers — just hoped they would stop. And they stopped.
When silence was imposed as a sentence, she said:
"Ethics is not opinion. It's responsibility. And history is not what you think you heard. It's what remains after the gods get quiet."
The sentence reverberated like a stone thrown in a lake. No one answered. Great.
"This is the first mandatory class for the Coming-age Ceremony. I am the mentor of this discipline. My name is Sigrid. As you have already noticed, I am a priestess of the Temple of the Order, and I honor Kevhorn, the superior god of divine laws", she said, walking slowly before the pulpit. "And before anyone asks: yes, it counts points. And no, there is no room for achisms here. You are children of the gods, but you are still ignorant. My job is to deal with it."
Cale tried to contain his smile. That woman spoke like a knife. Quick and sharp, right in the bone.
A demigod raised his hand. Sigrid waved to speak.
"Sorry, but... why do we need this discipline? I thought we would focus more on fighting because of ascension missions."
"How many have been elevated to gods in the last ten years?"
"Uh... I don't remember any names..."
"Exactly.", Sigrid crossed her arms and looked at him as if she was measuring his usefulness. "This means that becoming a god is not a simple task. Many fail. Not only by failing to meet the prerequisites... but by breaking the divine laws. Most of you die before you even realize where you've been wrong. That's why Melli demanded that you study ethics and history. So that you, at least, die with some notion of what you did wrong."
The tension spread like a heavy fog. Some looked away. Others swallowed dry. That priestess did not expect anything from them. Perhaps no one there expected.
She turned to an old mural, covered with faded maps. Several marked regions — many already forgotten.
"How many of you can name the kingdoms that disappeared before the Breakup Age?"
An uncomfortable silence settled.
Then, a thin and overconfident boy raised his hand without being called:
"Nafathia?" said, with derision. "That mythical kingdom of children's tales? With swords that speak and rivers that heal wounds?"
Some laughed. Others looked at each other.
Cale raised an eyebrow. Nafathia?
Sigrid didn't even blink.
"What are you laughing at, demigod?"
"It's just a myth..."
"Ha. What are the gods teaching their children, to make them so ignorant?"
The silence was now dense.
Cale crossed his arms. He was interested. Everything that involved the gods interested him. After all, he wanted to be a priest. And Sigrid... Maybe she was exactly the kind of mentor he needed.
"Mythology is the name we give to what we can not understand" said Sigrid, the voice now lower. "And ignorance is always the first step to arrogance. And arrogance is the reason why divine laws come into play and prevent new demigods from ascending."
Cale sat on the bench, watching others. Most were trying to pretend attention. Some seemed just wanting to look smart. None of them asked good questions.
He murmured:
"Wow. Someone finally said something smart in here."
Mikhal held the laughter.
"You should write that in a note to her."
"I rather to stay alive."
The class continued with the explanation of the Seven Pacts of Kevhorn, the agreements that sealed the rights of the gods over the mortal world — and the exceptions that allowed the existence of the demigods.
"You are allowed mistakes" said Sigrid, stopping to walk. "temporary permissions. Tests of faith that humanity has deposited in us. And, like every mistake, they can be corrected."
An uncomfortable silence floated in the hall.
Cale would tap his fingers on his knee. It bothered him more than he would admit. The rigidity of speech. Absolute certainty. As if there were no other way.
He raised his hand.
Sigrid stared at him.
"Suppose that Nafathia existed" he said, neutral voice "Why would it be convenient to erase it from history?"
"Because it threatens what we keep standing."
She didn't seem bothered by the question. In fact, she seemed to like the provocation.
"Kings don't erase stories. Gods do. And if there is something that makes them uncomfortable, it's a truth they couldn't control."
That made sense. A dangerous sense.
Sigrid then turned to the class:
"Since we talk about myths, anyone else wants to ask what is true or not?"
A half-woman, hesitant, raised her hand:
"My mother said that children taken would be judged by the Herald..."
Sigrid leaned against the frame, arms crossed.
"The Herald of Judgment is a figure from ancient myths. He is said to supervise the gods and ensure that divine laws are followed. Who is not worthy... is punished. Some lesser gods used this myth to scare their children."
"So not even the gods do what they want?"
"Do you think that being a god is playing with fate?", Sigrid narrowed her eyes "Being a god is a duty. The supreme god created the Herald precisely for this: to keep even the higher gods under control."
"But does it exist?"
"Who knows?" said Sigrid, turning away. "For millennia we have not heard of them. Perhaps they were destroyed. Or maybe we are in an era of peace where they are no longer needed. Kevhorn is enough... for now."
The class followed, and Cale was increasingly immersed. All that was new, several myths becoming lies and new visions bringing the truth that made Cale feel amazed.
The gods were more mysterious than he thought.
Perhaps you should learn about these divine laws to avoid trouble. If the people in your village knew this, they could be kept safe. This would reduce the weight of your father's shoulders.
A tin smile appeared on his lips.
For a brief moment, Cale turned his gaze to the window next to him.
Outside, lying carelessly on the branch of a fig tree, Aries slept, one leg hanging as if completely ignoring any notion of surveillance. The light that passed through the leaves illuminated the blond and messy hair of Aries.
Cale felt a slight tingling, almost a tingling, appearing behind his eyes as he watched Aries. An uncomfortable and intriguing feeling made him want to look closer.
An intense curiosity drove him to observe Aries, not only for his appearance, but for a visceral need to understand something he could not name, one for missing in an invisible puzzle.
"Mikhal" muttered, still looking out.
Mikhal, who was almost asleep while watching the class — despite his function not being that — looked lazily to the side, noticing those big purple eyes focused on something beyond the window.
"What is it?"
"That one there... is the Aries, right?"
Mikhal leaned a little to look out the window. Noticing the guardian sleeping in the fig tree, he looked briefly at Cale, without noticing any different reaction. With a light smile, he replied, and his eyes focused on the face of the young hooded man, yearning for every second of reaction.
"That's right. He seems to have just returned from a mission. Usually he likes to train, but... must be too tired."
Cale continued to watch. He leaned his chin in the palm of his hand and relaxed as he watched the guardian from outside. Aries' relaxed manner was completely at odds with the respectable aura that other veterans carried. And yet it seemed more present — more real.
"Shouldn't he be here with you, assisting the instructors?"
"Probably."
Cale nodded lightly, but said nothing. His eyes turned to the golden hair of Aries, the way the sun played with them. The same tone of the dragon.
He wasn't sure what it meant — or if it meant anything. But he felt like it.
Felt something.