The late-winter grey shroud had finally begun to dwindle, surrendering to spring’s advance. In its stead, ribbons of golden light now streamed through the theology classroom’s arched windows. Warm stripes painted our desks. The air outside still carried a cold bite. But whenever the heavy oak doors swung open, they released the fragrance of thawing soil and the sweet breath of newly emerged crocuses. That alone was enough to brighten the mood as restless energy rippled through the rows of students.

  “So, children, have you been memorizing your prayers?” Elder Konsteus asked once inside the classroom, scanning the room with his multi-colored eyes as he strode to the lectern. “More importantly, have you been putting all that new knowledge into practice?” The tiny silver bells, a change from his usual brass ones, jingled with each deliberate turn of his head. A few students nodded promptly, while some averted their gaze to their prayer books.

  Personally, I still couldn’t get used to the concept of praying. I felt awkward and self-conscious about it. All despite knowing the heavenly family was very real and that their influence on this world was quite tangible. The voice in my ear during the entrance exam was evidence enough. I have now convinced myself it was one of the divines who aided me back then. Otherwise, who else could it have been?

  So I did try to pray, kneeling next to my bed each night before sleep, whispering memorized verses and sometimes improvising with my own words. Although my prayers grew more sincere over time, they remained somewhat hesitant and tinged with doubt and insecurity. Most other students, like Libby, were quite different in that regard. They spent at least half of each day in devotion. I couldn’t quite match their fervor or their peace of mind just yet, especially with everything else that kept me busy these days.

  “Good, keep at it.” Elder Konsteus’s voice was warm but firm. “It is important that you do so, not only to demonstrate your piety, but also for practical reasons. As we move into the second year, we will shift from studying the theory and history of the three fates to more practical applications. Specifically, into divine magic. It differs from arcane magic in one significant way. Who can tell me what that is?”

  Several eager hands rose into the sunlight. The Elder gestured to the front row, where tiny Libby perched atop her desk rather than in her chair, a necessary adjustment for her miniature stature that would otherwise leave her hidden from view.

  “Divine magic draws no power from mana,” she answered. Her voice rang clear despite her size. “Instead, the deities lend some of their own power to the faithful as they pray.”

  Elder Konsteus nodded. “Indeed. Each one of you was bestowed a divine grace, an imprint upon your body or perhaps your very soul. Opinions differ on that subject.” He traced a finger along the edge of the lectern. “Divine grace doesn’t gift much power. It presents itself as a minor boon to your health and the ability to perceive divine power, an aptitude not unlike mana sensitivity.”

  His expression hardened. “Divine favor, however…” His fist crashed against the lectern, making several students jolt upright. “Pay attention now. This is vital. Favors are fragments of a deity’s true name, ones that grant much power, whispered to the worthy during a certain ritual.” His voice lowered to a hush. “You will all undertake such a ritual next week. Should you receive a name, you must keep it a secret. To reveal it betrays trust between you and the divine, and that favor, once lost, cannot be reclaimed.”

  The Elder then paced before us, explaining how the names of the divine possessed unfathomable complexity. Some theologians believed them to be infinite, mirroring the boundless nature of the deities of this world. The whole concept oddly reminded me of mathematical constants that stretch endlessly, like the number pi.

  “The longer the name bestowed upon you,” he explained, “the greater your channeled power becomes. It was deduced by some adventurous theologians eons ago who shared only the number of syllables in names they were bestowed and compared the strength of their chants. This practice doesn’t seem to offend the divine and serves as the clergy’s measure of divine power.”

  Elder Konsteus handed out yellowed parchments to each of us, the edges crumbling slightly at my touch. "This prayer," he said, tapping the faded ink with one long finger, "dates back to the first century after the Goddess of Balance was born to the world. It was unused for a long time, but with the emergence of the new divine patron…" He winked at me. "We find ourselves returning to more ancient traditions."

  And so next week, we huddled outside the ceremony hall like pilgrims before a shrine. It was the same marbled building where our entrance exam took place almost a year ago. To ensure the absolute sanctity of the ritual, students waited in tense silence as, one by one, we would enter the main chamber where Elder Konsteus waited, and that one student alone would then enter the antechamber.

  “Have you memorized the prayer and the ritual?” Elder Konsteus asked when my turn came, his mismatched eyes searching mine as the scent of incense clung to his robes.

  “Yes,” I nodded, the parchment’s words were burning in my memory.

  “Good, then proceed inside, and take great care going forward that nobody hears you repeat names you hear.”

  Once inside, the heavy door sealed behind me with a resonant thud that echoed through the antechamber. Before me stood an altar unlike the one that had held the divine instrument during my previous visit. This one was hewn from a strange, opalescent stone that seemed to absorb and reflect light simultaneously. This altar seemed older, more elemental. Atop it waited three objects: a chalice of hammered silver, darkened with age; a crystal decanter of wine so deep red it appeared almost black; and an ornate dagger whose handle was carved from some sort of bone.

  My paws trembled slightly as I poured the wine, which flowed thick as blood into the chalice. I took the dagger, cold and unnaturally heavy in my grip, and pressed its edge against my padded thumb. The blade bit with surprising ease. Four crimson drops fell into the chalice, each making a distinct sound as they struck the wine’s surface, like tiny bells ringing in sequence. It surprised me at first how similar the ritual was to one that a beastkin used to give blood oaths. Both rituals probably shared a common heritage.

  “I honor those divine beings whose hands shaped our land…” I found myself speaking these archaic phrases with the comfortable familiarity of a childhood rhyme, though I had only memorized them days before.

  Then, as I reached the seventh verse, the liquid in the chalice suddenly ignited, not with ordinary flame, but with a radiance that cast no shadows, pulsing in time with my heartbeat and sending fractals of light dancing across the antechamber walls.

  “…I dedicate my life in service to those who reign in the heavenly realm.” I continued chanting when the flame transformed before my eyes, shifting from its radiant white glow to a deep emerald green, an indication that Mother Nature heard my prayer. Her voice was gentle, yet fierce, “Gaia.” Her name seared into my head. I couldn’t help but note the parallel to the mythological goddess of my original world from Ancient Greece. Perhaps the connection was more than coincidental.

  Before I could contemplate this revelation further, the flame transformed again, blazing bright amber. The God of Order had also judged me worthy. Unlike the gentle voice of Gaia or the one I’d heard a year prior, this voice resonated as if countless beings spoke as one entity. The divine name reverberated in my very marrow: “Jeromson.”

  A startled gasp escaped me. The connection there certainly couldn’t be a mere coincidence. The God of Order, revealing himself as ‘Son of Jerome’ to me, was a shocking bit of news. The implications were too numerous to consider, but I forced myself to refocus on the ritual. Any interruption now could jeopardize everything.

  I continued the ancient invocation. “Exalted rulers of the firmament, Lord Jeromson the God of Order, and Lady Gaia the Goddess of Chaos, Esteemed Mother Nature…” The chalice before me blazed with intertwined ribbons of green and amber flame, dancing in harmony as my words filled the chamber. Then, precisely as the final syllable left my lips, the supernatural fire vanished without smoke or ember.

  I lifted the chalice, now mysteriously half-empty, and marveled at its cool surface against my paw pads before tilting my head back and consuming its contents in three deliberate swallows. The ritual was complete, and I was bestowed divine favor from two deities of this world.

  Outside, Elder Konsteus stood waiting, his mismatched eyes, one green, one deep blue, fixed on me as I emerged from the antechamber. His weathered hands gripped his ceremonial staff, knuckles white with anticipation.

  “Have you been successful?”

  I nodded, still feeling the residual warmth of divine power coursing through my veins like liquid sunlight. “I have, although I was not favored by the new divine just yet.”

  “That is to be expected,” he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We still know little about the new member of the heavenly family. Their prayer forms remain unwritten, their preferred offerings undiscovered, and the qualities they cherish in their devotees unknown.” He leaned forward, silver-streaked beard catching the light from nearby ceremonial candles. “Whose favors did you receive, then?”

  I straightened my posture, paws still trembling slightly from the ritual. “Those of God of Order and Mother Nature.”

  “Truly? That is quite rare,” he whispered. “Most receive a favor from one deity alone, their divine light singular in purpose. And those fortunate enough to be favored by two deities,” he gestured with gnarled fingers at himself, “like yours truly, usually receive a second one from the Goddess of Balance. Your situation, while not unheard of, occurs perhaps once in a generation.” His weathered face creased into a smile. “You continue to surprise me, Zar. Maybe you are destined to shake things up after all. Now tell me, how many syllables did those sacred names contain?”

  I swallowed, still tasting the metallic tang of the ritual wine mingled with my own blood. “Three and two respectively, Professor.”

  Elder Konsteus’s eyes gleamed. “Great. The Church doors stand wide open for you now. Few initiates your age receive three syllables. It places you well above the common rank. Continue your devotions, and more of God of Order’s sacred name may be revealed to you, elevating your standing further. And should the Goddess of Balance ever bestow her favor…” His voice dropped reverently. "You would immediately join the ranks of saint candidates.”

  “Saint candidates,” I echoed. "We did cover the concept in class and some of the historical figures, but not the technicalities. They are those who receive three divine blessings, be they graces or favors. But what does it really mean to be a saint?”

  “Saints are divine arbitrates, exceedingly rare, yet vital, especially in times of turmoil.” He paused, considering. “You see, because they are undeniably favored by all three divines, well, now I suppose we ought to change the rules to include four, but let’s put that aside for a moment.” He smiled. “Because of their unique position, they supersede the hierarchy of the three established faiths. They speak with authority just one degree removed from the deities themselves. A mantle of immense power,” he added solemnly, “and equally immense responsibility.”

  “Not sure I want either, possessing one seems very dangerous, both are straight hazardous to my health.”

  Elder laughed, bells on his hat rang in chorus with each cackle. “True enough, but no saint ever decided to become one. They are chosen by the heavenly family after all. Being humble and cautious are certainly praiseworthy qualities, so be careful what you wish for. You might unintentionally only narrow the path in front of you to that inescapable destination.”

  I raised an eyebrow, my whiskers twitching with suspicion. “It almost seems like you actually wish I were one.”

  Elder Konsteus leaned forward, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that smelled faintly of mint leaves. “I will not deny it, I do. As the proud father to three beastkin children myself, I selfishly cannot stop thinking about how much a beastkin saint is needed right now.” He tapped the staff once against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the chamber. “You really think the faculty haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing outside of your classes. To my knowledge, there is none more qualified than you in the new up-and-coming generation.”

  “Wow, I am humbled, but shouldn’t a professor be a little more… impartial?”

  Elder Konsteus’s eyes crinkled with mischief, bells on his hat tinkling softly as he shook his head. “Now, where would be the fun in that. You seem to confuse me with a member of the Church or the Temple. No, I would rather delight in imagining the beautiful upheaval a saint like yourself might bring to the Morne Isles, a beastkin blessed by a deity unknown to our histories!” His hand brushed a stray bit of ceremonial incense from my fur. “My faith doesn’t share the misguided notion that chaos is inherently evil, as you should know by now. Instead, we see it as a precursor to transformation and improvement of the world.”

  He guided me toward the exit with a gentle pressure between my shoulder blades, already scanning for his next initiate. “Humor this old dreamer and devote yourself more deeply to your prayers. What harm could come of it?”

  “Yes, Professor. I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” I answered with resignation. The stone floor beneath my paw pads felt cold and ancient, worn smooth by countless initiates before me. Jerome wasn’t kidding when he said this new life of mine will offer many paths. Also, evidently he has some sort of a paternal connection to the God of Order. I should read more ancient texts on the origins of that particular deity, curiosity was just killing me.

  As I stepped outside, the crisp afternoon air filled my lungs, clearing my mind. Come to think of it, I’ve been juggling a lot recently. Should I take a note from Luciana’s book and focus on singular goal instead? Elder had a point, though. Divine will was beyond my control. Sainthood? The very word tasted foreign on my tongue, as absurd as suggesting I sprout wings. However, if it becomes necessary for me to step up in the future, all I can do is better prepare to face those challenges as they arise. That meant more training, more studying, and building more connections in this world. With that attitude, the path I was currently on seemed clear enough.

  The next two chapters will be different, though. Also, they will be the last ones for vol.1. After that, I will take a short break to edit everything I've written so far and recharge my creative batteries. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of ideas left in me, but I have been keeping a rather intense pace in my writing. Need to step back and take a breather, hope you all folks can relate to that.