It was fall in the mountain village of Aspen, nestled in a valley and surrounded by towering peaks. The air was damp from the recent rain, but that didn't stop us from going to church.
"Hurry up!"
Lyn'chael, my younger sister at age 14, called out. Her silky black hair swirled in the wind as she descended the weathered stairs, bundled up in warm clothes perfect for the rainy season.
"I'm coming!"
I rushed to follow, carefully navigating the slippery stairs. Some parts of the wood were covered in mold, and every time my shoes splashed into the puddles below, a cold sensation gripped my feet, adding to my discomfort.
From here, I can see the villagers going about their lives. The houses are made of traditional wood, with smoke rising from the chimneys.
The misty mountain village, with its dense forest, felt cozy. Its charm was amplified by the melancholic hues of autumn.
"Brother! Hurry! Mom and Dad are waiting!"
In truth, we were meant to be accompanied by them to the church, but when it started raining, the two of us decided to stay and play with the other children at Uncle Leon's house instead, though we ended up staying longer than we intended.
I caught up to my sister, and together we walked toward the Church of Światło. It was Sunday, the day of our weekly mass.
As we walked, my sister admired the fleeting scenery of the fall season.
"Hey, brother, what's your favorite season?" she asked, her tone playful.
I never really thought about it; they're all beautiful in their own way. But if I had to pick...
"It's probably... Fall."
Lyn'chael didn't seem impressed by my answer. "Fall is beautiful, but don't you think it's a little depressing?"
"What's so depressing about it?" I asked.
She cast her eyes downward before speaking, her voice faint. "It's the season when flowers die. It's sad when beautiful things die."
I froze, troubled by what she'd just said, and asked, "Sister, why is that on your mind?"
She fell silent for a moment, sadness lingering in her eyes. It seemed like she, too, was wondering why those thoughts had come to her now.
Lyn'chael has been taking care of the petunias in our home, but they tend to die easily when the weather gets cold. That might be the reason.
"I don't know, brother," she said quietly. "But at least it's comforting to think that, in death, we go to heaven—just like it says in the Luminary Codex. Beautiful things deserve heaven."
The Luminary Codex. I'd heard of it, of course—the sacred text of the Światian religion. But I had never really paid attention to it. Lyn'chael, on the other hand, seemed to believe every word of it.
I'd always been more skeptical, though I never spoke of it aloud.
But perhaps one day I'd read it. For now, I simply stood by her, not wanting to cause any trouble.
"Heaven..." I said, trying to imagine it. "It must be a beautiful place. I wonder what it looks like."
"Like the clouds, brother! Imagine living in the clouds!" Her tone was more joyous, perhaps trying to change the mood of the conversation.
"But sister, if heaven is made of clouds, I'd just fall through and die a second time."
Lyn'chael chuckled. "That's assuming you even make it into heaven in the first place, brother."
I stared at her, speechless, still trying to process what I'd just heard. "What do you mean by that?!"
"Nothing..." She looked away, her pace quickening.
"What the hell," I muttered.
It wasn't long before we were reunited with our parents. My father, Alexander, is a tall man with broad, muscular shoulders working as a woodcutter. Beside him was my beautiful mother, Ana'lyn. Her long black hair, much like Lyn'chael, seemed to echo the grace of the swaying autumn leaves around us. She exuded elegance as they drew closer to us, their presence was warm amidst the cool air.
There are quite a few people here, about 20-30 at most—mostly families with children or some individuals who are seeking divine guidance because their lives are a mess.
"There you are!" Father said, "We were wondering if you two would make it." Father's voice was deep and manly.
"Did you get caught in the rain?" Mother asked in a monotonous voice, but still in a caring manner.
"We're fine, Mama," Lyn'chael chimed in. "We just… took the long way."
Father raised an eyebrow, his suspicion clear. "Were you off playing with the other kids again?"
Lyn'chael and I exchanged guilty looks, but Mother laughed softly, her voice like a melody.
"Let them be, Alexander. It's a beautiful day for children to enjoy."
She leaned down to brush a leaf from Lyn'chael's hair. "But next time, don't keep us waiting, all right?"
"Yes, Mama!" we said in unison.
"Come," Father said, gesturing toward the church doors.
"Mass is about to begin."
In front of us stands an old stone church, its walls still glistening from the recent downpour. Golden and crimson leaves clung stubbornly to the surrounding trees, their colors deepened by the rain. Others lay scattered across the cobblestone path, plastered to puddles that mirrored the church's silhouette.
In the silence, faint prayers could be heard, as a group of people assembled for the mass.
But Father was called by his friend, Uncle Leon, the village guard, who was wearing a quilted red and black padded tunic, leather gloves, knee-high boots with armored plating, and greaves.
"Uncle Leon!" Lyn'chael and I exclaimed, happy to see him.
"Hey, kids," Leon said with a smile. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to have a word with your father."
They communicated in a way only the two of them could hear, but one thing was certain—their faces showed signs of urgency.
"Ah, something's come up, and I'll need to take care of it," Father said to us, though Lyn'chael and I were confused.
"Is something wrong?" Mom asked, equally puzzled.
He leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and her expression grew serious.
"I understand. Stay safe out there."
"What's happening, Father?" Lyn'chael asked, getting closer.
Father simply patted her head. "Oh, just some responsibility we adults need to handle. Nothing serious!"
"You're not joining us for Mass, Father?" Lyn'chael asked, her worry clear. The idea of him not being with us for Mass seemed to trouble her. As for me, I wasn't sure what to say, so I just listened.
"I'll make it up to you. I'll buy dinner tonight, something delicious!" Father quickly tried to ease the situation.
"Promise, Father?" Lyn'chael asked, her tone softening.
"I promise, I swear!"
With that, they sealed it with a pinky promise, a sweet gesture. Mom and Dad shared a tender kiss before he left, and he turned to me, saying, "Keep them safe."
"Yes, Father. I will." But realistically, if a six-foot man were to attack us, the best I could do would be to act as a sacrificial lamb, allowing my mother and sister to escape. Father was expecting too much.
But besides that, I noticed a flock of ravens perched in the dying trees. They looked ominous against the barren branches. I've always admired them—their sleek black feathers and powerful wings are strikingly beautiful. Still, I'd appreciate it if they didn't stare at me with those piercing eyes.
Pushing aside the uneasy feeling, the three of us made our way to the old church and stepped inside. We were greeted by its humble interior. Light gently filtered through the side windows, while the ceiling featured rounded arches supported by sturdy columns with ornate capitals.
The space is lined with simple wooden pews, and the central aisle led to a modest altar on a raised platform. Above the altar is a smaller, elegant stained-glass window that enhances the spiritual ambiance.
A hymn echoed through the church, sung by the choir and accompanied by a grand piano. The singers sang in an ancient tongue known only to the members of the church, the holy language of Luminary. Their voices were laced with mana.
Yes, they were casting a spell on the mass-goers.
As I looked at my mother, I remembered her words:
The Luminary Codex we possess is the public version, but rumors persist that the church conceals or manipulates the original text. Every hymn sung in this space was more than just music—it was a subtle spell, designed to intensify devotion to Światło. The more we attended, the stronger its effect became.
My mother warned me never to speak of this, as it was deemed heretical. Those who uncovered too much about the church's true methods often vanished—or, in some cases, were exiled.
Whenever we're in church, we pretend to be under the spell's influence, mimicking the behavior of sheep following the shepherd's words, even though it doesn't truly affect us. Well, my sister isn't affected, but that's only because she's naturally devoted.
It fueled my distrust and skepticism about the church, but it didn't affect my sister's belief, as she thought it was for a good reason.
My mother, unlike my father, has a deep dislike for this religion. However, they both allow us to follow our own beliefs; neither Mom nor Dad imposes anything on us, granting us the freedom to make our own choices regarding religion.
I find it oddly charming that my parents are still together, despite having different views.
As we sat down in our pews the singing continued, and the choir's voices rose, filling the space. Lyn'chael, despite not knowing the language, prepared to sing along by mimicking.
Oh Światło, let our words please you~
(O Światło, Hee wa muel vae ves~)
May the thoughts that come out of my heart please you~
(Wali veso hei no Ie wa, Veo soe yuweh~)
For I devote my body and soul to you~
(Vei Ie, Hei seva Ie wa velo wa soel yuweh~)
My savior, my savior~
(Ie wa Luha, Ie wa Luha~)
Oh Światło, let our words please you~
(O Światło, Hee wa muel vae ves~)
May the thoughts that come out of my heart please you~
(Wali veso hei no Ie wa, Veo soe yuweh~)
For I devote my body and soul to you~
(Vei Ie, Hei seva Ie wa velo wa soel yuweh~)
My savior, my savior~
(Ie wa Luha, Ie wa Luha~)
The trumpets are for you~
(Vrumpel ei Hei Va wa yuweh~)
My hope and truth are with you~
(Ie wa yae wa yua hei va wa yuweh~)
Oh, Światło~.
(O Światło~)
You are my light.
(Yuweh hei va Ie wa hoel~)
You are my light.
(Yuweh hei va Ie wa hoel~)
My savior, my savior.
(Ie wa Luha, Ie wa Luha~)
My god, oh światło.
(Ie wa Światło, Aei Światło~)
The congregation listened intently, their faces filled with bliss. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they swayed gently to the hymn, completely immersed in its melody.
I turned to see Lyn'chael, her eyes bright, her lips parted as she sang along. I could see the joy on her face—her belief was pure, untouched by doubt.
Lyn'chael looked pleased, and here I am, wondering—what's the difference between this and a cult?
I've seen people thank God for every good thing that's happened to them, but why can't they thank themselves for the effort they put in? Does everything have to be attributed to the divine?
Why does the church need to use subtle spells to influence the devotion of the masses?
I glance around at the people gathered here, their eyes brimming with hope. Am I the odd one for not following it?
Amidst my reverie, the priest appeared. His name is Father Francis, the village priest who has served this church for years. He made his way to the pulpit, gazing out at the congregation before speaking.
"Let us, brothers and sisters, gather in solemn devotion to honor our Lord, Światło."
Chapter end.