The morning was clouded, the sun nowhere in sight. From the backyard of the old church, two figures could be seen sparring—or rather, one of them taking a beating. An old wooden shed stood nearby, likely used as a storeroom, and the overgrown grass swayed unevenly in the cool wind, long neglected by any caretaker.
"Get up! That didn't even hurt that much," Reyla said, her tone firm but teasing.
Aleck groaned, clutching his stomach as he lay sprawled on the damp ground.
"And stop pretending it hurts, or I'll make sure it does," she added, tightening her fist with mock menace.
How does she even know what I'm thinking? Damn monster nun, Aleck thought to himself, knowing full well that saying it aloud would be as good as signing his death sentence.
"You said you'd train me, but all you've done is hit me for half an hour straight!" he shouted, breathless and indignant.
"This is training," Reyla replied flatly, her expression calm and unbothered. "You'll thank me later if you survive."
Before he could complain again, she darted forward—faster than he expected. Aleck yelped and rolled aside just in time, scrambling to his feet and sprinting toward the fence. He leapt over it in a panic, landing awkwardly on the other side—only to notice one of his oversized shoes had flown off mid-escape.
"You two started making noise so early in the morning—can't even let this old man have some peace," Father Lucen muttered, humming softly as he walked toward the fence. He noticed the shoe, picked it up, and thought to himself, "Kid sure can jump high, haha."
Reyla, gesturing as if breaking someone's fingers, said angrily, "I'm gonna beat that kid when I find him again!"
The Father chopped a hand lightly onto her head. "Ouch!" Reyla yelped, rubbing the spot.
"Don't think about fighting only, you brute. Go clean the rooms properly; we may have guests coming today," Father said.
"Who would come to this rundown church as a guest anyway?" Reyla thought to herself, but asked aloud, "And where are you going?"
"I have business and have to go to the town market today," Father replied, already walking away, the shoe still clutched in his hand.
Reyla watched his retreat, a knowing grin spreading across her face. "Hope you find him soon enough this time," she called out, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, before quickly turning to go inside.
The Father froze. He visibly stumbled—a sudden, subtle wobble in his stoic posture—and coughed three times, clearing his throat loudly. Without looking back, he quickly resumed his walk, disappearing down the road.
In a brazen, wind-swept land stood an old marksman's tower—its stone walls cracked, its purpose long forgotten. Moss crept along the edges, and the air was thick with the scent of rain yet to come.
At the very top, Aleck lay flat on the cold stone, staring at the clouds drifting lazily across the gray morning sky. The world felt still, almost weightless—like time had chosen to skip this place.
Should I just go home? he thought, sighing softly. I even left my shoe back there…
The wind stirred—gentle at first, then sudden, sharp.
"So, you really are up here," came a calm voice through the gust.
Father Lucen appeared at the edge of the tower, robes swaying in the wind, one hand holding Aleck's missing shoe. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between amusement and quiet concern. He sat beside Aleck with the ease of someone who belonged even in such precarious places.
"How did you even find me here?" Aleck asked, pushing himself up.
Lucen glanced toward the horizon. "You'd be surprised how easy it is to find someone who doesn't want to be found."
He paused, then smiled faintly. "Come. Let me show you something."
Before Aleck could ask, Father stepped forward—straight off the edge.
"F-Father Lucen!" Aleck shouted, scrambling to his feet. His heart dropped into his stomach.
But when he rushed to the side and looked down—he froze.
The old priest wasn't falling. He was floating, suspended in the air like the wind itself had chosen to hold him.
The morning clouds parted slightly above, and for a moment, rays of pale light shimmered around him.
Lucen looked up, his voice calm but carrying through the wind. "Beautiful, isn't it? The world looks different when you stop fearing the fall."
He rose slowly, until he was eye-level with Aleck again, the faint glow fading back into the gray sky.
"This is what the Knights of the Goddess can do," he said softly, though his tone carried something heavier—an echo of memory, or regret. "And one day, Aleck… when you truly understand what it means to believe—you'll do far greater things than this."
"Have you heard of resonance, Aleck?" Father Lucen asked, his calm eyes fixed on the curious boy.
"Reyla said it's… the force of the world—and the only way to perform miracles," Aleck replied hesitantly, clearly unsure of his own words.
"Still bad at explaining, huh," Father sighed, shaking his head before continuing. "Resonance exists in everyone. How well one can use it depends on how trained the body is—and how clear the mind has become. Almost every soldier can tap into it for a short while, but those who master it completely… they become Knights."
He paused, his tone growing quieter. "Right now, there are only three Knights in the entire kingdom. Each one could wipe out a hundred men with resonance alone—in less than a minute."
Aleck's eyes widened. "What about that wind thing you did earlier? Is that resonance too?" he asked, voice filled with childish curiosity.
Father chuckled. "Ah, that? Kind of. It requires the same mastery as a Knight, yes—but those powers are different. They're blessings from the Goddess herself, granted only to her chosen followers. Honestly, I don't even know how—or why—she chooses them."
"But you said I could use those powers too, someday," Aleck said softly, his face falling. "Were you just… giving me false hope?"
Lucen was silent for a moment, then slowly rolled up his right sleeve. Etched into his skin was a faintly glowing sun symbol, branded deep like an ancient seal.
Aleck stared in awe. "What is that?"
"This," Lucen said, his voice steady and distant, "is the mark of the Goddess. We call those who bear it Children of Light. People with this mark possess extraordinary regenerative powers. As long as your heart beats, your body will never stay broken—your wounds will close, your bones will mend, even your severed limbs will return to you. That's the blessing of the Sun."
He turned his gaze toward the horizon. "You have the same mark too, Aleck—on your back. You just never noticed. When someone masters resonance, the Goddess may grant them powers like mine—of fire or wind. Those chosen become known as the Knights of the Goddess.
When one masters resonance, the Goddess grants powers of fire or wind. Those chosen become the Knights of the Goddess—and those with the mark are destined to be among them."
Lucen smiled faintly. "The current Grand Duke, Ethan Greywhite, is one of them. He commands fire itself, able to wipe out a village in an instant, but alas, he doesn't have the mark like us."
His smile faded, replaced by a quiet weight. "In all my years, you're the only other person I've met with this mark. There are so few of us left that most think we're just myths. And even among those few, many never train properly. They rely too much on their healing and die young because of it, thinking they are immortal."
He looked away, his eyes darkening. "Not even the King's army has someone like us. So remember this, Aleck—never use your power for the kingdom. Word is, their royal doctors are experimenting, trying to copy our healing to create immortal soldiers."
Aleck stood there, speechless, his mind struggling to keep up. "I… I'll try my best, Father."
Lucen smiled gently. "Trying is enough. Because when you truly try, you will succeed."
He rose to his feet, brushing off the dust from his robes, his warm humor returning. "Now then, I'm off to buy some groceries. Come home early, will you? Otherwise, Reyla might come charging out to drag you back herself."
Aleck winced at the thought, half-smiling. "Right… she would."
Lucen laughed softly and stepped off the tower's edge, descending like a drifting leaf carried by unseen wind.