A blonde man woke up from his bed, cold sweat running down his spine, he could feel his body burning, today was the day he swore to himself,
Orynn's eyes shot open, his breath sharp and shallow, "Today," he muttered to the silence, his voice trembling—not with doubt, but with a feverish resolve that bordered on mania. "Today, the key will be mine."
How many times had he whispered those words to the dawn? How many times had they crumbled into ash by nightfall? He did not care to remember. No—he refused to remember. Failure was a phantom that haunted only those who acknowledged it. For Orynn, the past was merely a script discarded by an actor who refused to play his role.
But today was different. It had to be.
"Orynn! I'm hungry!" The voice came shrill and unapologetic from the next room, shattering the fragile sanctity of his thoughts. His sister. Always there to remind him of his mundane obligations, as though her very existence was a tether to the world he sought to leave behind.
"Today is a great day, sister!" Orynn called back, his voice buoyant as he began preparing breakfast, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. "I will claim the key, and with it, my place among the Righteous!"
His sister emerged, her skepticism as plain as the worn robes she wore. "You've said that before. Three times, at least. Why do you keep risking everything? You'll only end up an outcast—another name whispered in pity and fear."
Orynn turned to her, his expression serene, his chest puffed out with pride. "I don't remember ever failing," he said, his tone resolute. "And what do you mean by 'nothing'? Becoming Righteous isn't just a dream—it's a promise. When I succeed, we'll leave this wretched life behind. Imagine it—a house of luxury, a life of honor!"
But his sister only sighed, her doubt as unyielding as stone.
As the morning light stretched into midday, Orynn knelt in prayer, his words flowing like a stream winding through a forest of doubt. His goddess, Lef, was his sole confidante, the silent witness to his unwavering faith.
"Lef," he murmured, his hands clasped so tightly they trembled. "You gave me hope when I had none. You saved me from myself. I swore to rise above it all, to become your servant in the highest order. I will not falter. I cannot falter."
The trials of Ascension loomed large in his mind, their details etched into his memory like sacred scripture.
The first one. For one hour, the faithful must offer their prayers, pure and unbroken. Their prayers must be whispered with heart otherwise their link will shatter. This is where most people fail.
The second one. A searing blaze that purges the unworthy, leaving only ashes in its wake. To the faithful, it is but a warm embrace. To the doubters, a death sentence.
The third one. It's always different each and every year. This is where Orynn usually failed.
This was the stage upon which Orynn had faltered before. Or so others claimed. He, of course, had no memory of failure. How could he, when his faith was unshakeable?
The sun hung high in the sky. When the bell tolled, the blessed all walked towards the sun. A priest stood tall before the gathered crowd, with his golden monocle.
"The Yearly Ascension begins now!" he declared, his voice ringing with authority.
Orynn rose, his heart steady, his mind clear. "This is it," he whispered, his lips curling into a smile. "I will claim the key. I will become Righteous."
The crowd along with Orynn gathered inside the church for the hour of continuous prayer.
People around him failed one after another yet Orynn felt no fear. 'Why feel fear ?' but as he looked around him he noticed a tall man, he seemed bored, with his pet in his embrace, he started snacking on some food. 'What is that guy doing?' he wondered.