Chapter 18: The Holy Magic Academy
The morning sun poured into the grand breakfast hall, filling it with a gentle golden light. The smell of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and sweet fruits floated through the air as the maidens moved gracefully between the long tables, serving the summoned students their morning meal.
At one of the quieter tables near the windows, Miss Aiko sat alongside Mirei, Haruka, Shizuka, and Kasumi. The five of them ate together, a small isnd of familiarity amidst the lively chatter around them.
Breaking the soft clinking of silverware, Kasumi set down her cup and sighed lightly. "Can you believe it's already been a whole month since we came to this world?" she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Shizuka chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah... and in just one more month, we'll be starting at the Holy Magic Academy. Time’s flying way too fast."
Miss Aiko gave a warm smile, folding her hands neatly on the table. "I'm happy seeing how excited you all are. You're growing so quickly—learning hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, even magic. Those are things you could never experience back home."
Haruka, however, remained silent, focusing on her meal. She hadn’t said much since they sat down, and it was starting to feel... odd.
Noticing the strange quiet, Mirei leaned forward slightly. "Haruka, is everything okay?" she asked gently.
Haruka paused for a moment before answering, her voice soft. "Yeah... Everything's fine."
The table psed into an awkward quiet. Sensing the mood, Kasumi gnced around—and, with a sly grin, spotted the empty chair nearby. She leaned toward Haruka teasingly. "Hmm, looks like Shouta-kun didn't come for breakfast. Should I be suspicious?" she said, her voice dripping with pyful insinuation.
Shizuka burst out ughing, covering her mouth with a hand. Haruka simply blushed slightly and lowered her gaze to her pte.
Miss Aiko smiled but quickly grew serious. "Come to think of it, what happened to him? He didn't show up for dinner st night either," she said, gncing at Mirei. "Mirei, you went to check on him st night, right? What did he say?"
Mirei hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her fork before she answered. "He said everything was alright," she replied simply. Her gaze flickered briefly toward Haruka—not with jealousy or suspicion, but something more complicated. It was the lingering strangeness of Shouta's request the night before, when he had quietly asked her to protect Haruka and keep her safe. A strange thing to say... almost as if he had been pnning something.
Miss Aiko frowned thoughtfully, worry creeping into her features. "I see. Well, I'll go check on him myself after breakfast."
The conversation faded after that, and the group quickly finished their meal. One by one, the students left for their training grounds or the library, eager to continue their growth.
Miss Aiko, however, excused herself and made her way toward the boys’ dormitory.
The second floor was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Reaching Shouta's room, Miss Aiko knocked firmly on the door.
"Shouta-kun? Are you there?"
No answer.
She knocked again, harder this time. Still no response.
Frowning, Miss Aiko slowly pushed the door open. "I'm coming in," she said aloud.
The room inside was neat and orderly, but empty. No signs of the boy anywhere.
Her heart pounding now, Miss Aiko stepped fully inside, scanning the room. That’s when she saw it—a folded piece of paper on the desk, held down by a small paperweight.
She crossed the room quickly, picked up the note, and unfolded it.
The handwriting was messy, hurried. The words written were simple... and devastating:
I am sorry. I am leaving in search of my path. Do not worry about me. It is my decision. I will return when I am strong enough.
For a moment, the world tilted under Miss Aiko’s feet. The letter trembled in her hands before she clutched it tightly to her chest, feeling a sharp ache of fear and helplessness bloom inside her.
Without wasting another second, she turned and ran.
Moments ter, Miss Aiko burst into the hall where Wendel, the knight commander assigned to oversee the students’ protection, was stationed. Her face was pale, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Wendel!" she cried, holding out the letter. "Shouta... he's gone! I found this in his room!"
Wendel's sharp eyes quickly scanned the paper. His expression darkened, but his voice remained steady. He pced a firm hand on Miss Aiko’s trembling shoulder.
"Calm down, Miss Aiko," he said, his tone gentle but commanding. "You are their teacher. You must stay strong for the others. We’ll find him. He couldn't have gotten far."
Miss Aiko swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. She gave a weak, shaken nod.
Together, they hurried toward the inner sanctum of the church, where the Pope might be able to help.
The search for Shouta had begun.
The echo of their hurried footsteps faded as Wendel and Miss Aiko reached the great doors leading to the Pope’s meeting chamber. Two white-robed priests stood vigil on either side, their faces calm and unreadable.
Wendel stepped forward first, bowing slightly to the priest stationed near the entrance. "Sir, we request an urgent audience with His Holiness," he said evenly. "It concerns one of the summoned students."
The priest’s face showed a flicker of concern, but he shook his head slowly. "The Pope is currently in an important meeting," he said in a low voice. "I’m afraid you’ll have to wait—"
"We don't have time!" Miss Aiko burst out, unable to contain her worry. Her voice cracked slightly. "One of my students is missing!"
The priest frowned, clearly troubled by her words. Wendel immediately pced a hand on Miss Aiko’s shoulder, gently urging her to stay calm. "Please, Miss Aiko. Trust in the process," he said quietly, steady as stone even under pressure.
Before more words could be exchanged, a soft but commanding voice floated out from beyond the heavy door: "Let them in."
It was the Pope himself.
The priests stepped aside immediately, and the great doors swung open without a sound.
Wendel and Miss Aiko entered.
The room that greeted them was unlike anything Miss Aiko had ever seen. The ceilings soared high, carved from ancient marble and painted with breathtaking murals—depictions of radiant gods and celestial battles that stretched across the sky in brilliant golds, blues, and whites. Every surface seemed alive with holy light, from the polished stone floor that reflected the morning sun like a mirror, to the intricate designs of flowering vines and winged angels that framed the walls.
The sweet scent of burning incense hung in the air, almost dizzying in its purity.
At the far end of the chamber, a sitting area had been arranged with low, elegant sofas around a crystal table etched with runic symbols. It was not only a holy pce—it was also the Pope’s private office, a pce where divine authority met practical governance.
And there, seated gracefully on one of the sofas, was a woman Miss Aiko didn't recognise.
Wendel’s sharp eyes fell upon the violet-haired woman the moment they sat down.
For a breathless second, his composed mask cracked—just slightly. A flicker of recognition passed through him, followed by a grim understanding that tightened the line of his mouth.
She was striking—her long hair shimmered with a rich shade of violet, falling like silk over her shoulders. Her deep violet eyes, sharp yet serene, observed them as she sipped tea from a porcein cup. Despite her rexed posture, there was something unmistakably powerful about her presence, something that made the air seem heavier around her.
Miss Aiko’s heart instinctively tightened. Who... is she? she wondered.
Standing nearby, with his back half-turned toward them, was the Pope himself: a tall, elderly man cd in pure white robes embroidered with threads of gold and silver. A crown of light rested faintly over his head—an illusion, perhaps, or a miracle. His eyes were warm yet piercing as he looked at the two newcomers.
"Wendel, Miss Aiko," the Pope greeted them kindly. "You say a student is missing?"
Wendel bowed low. "Yes, Your Holiness. One of the summoned—Shouta Katsuragi—has vanished. He left behind only a note."
The Pope’s expression remained calm, but Miss Aiko noticed the faintest narrowing of his eyes.
"Come. Sit. Tell me everything," the Pope said, gesturing toward the open seats across from the violet-haired woman.
Miss Aiko hesitated only briefly before she followed Wendel forward, her mind still buzzing with unease, not only because of Shouta’s disappearance but also because of the silent, enigmatic figure watching her from across the table.
As they sat, Miss Aiko clutched Shouta’s note tightly in her p, focusing solely on expining the situation to the Pope. "Your Holiness," she began, voice slightly trembling, "st night, Shouta Izumi did not attend dinner. This morning, we found his room empty, with only this letter left behind." She extended the crumpled note toward the Pope.
The Pope took it gently, unfolding it with careful fingers. His golden eyes scanned the messy handwriting.
I am sorry. I am leaving in search of my path. Do not worry about me. It is my decision. I will return when I am strong enough.
The Pope's expression remained unreadable. He passed the note back to Wendel without a word.
Beside him, the violet-haired woman pced her cup softly on its saucer with a delicate clink. Her deep violet eyes gleamed with unreadable emotion, as if she already knew the contents of the letter.
It was then that Wendel leaned forward slightly, speaking for the first time. His voice was low, measured, but carried an edge of cold caution.
"Your Holiness... if I may," he said, gncing briefly at the woman seated nearby. "Is it possible that Lady Selvaria might know something about Shouta Izumi's decision?"
At the sound of her name, Miss Aiko’s heart jolted. Selvaria...? she repeated in her mind. The name sounded faintly familiar, something she had heard whispered among the knights and priests: "Selvaria of the Twilight Vow."
A powerful figure. A dangerous figure. Not someone ordinary people could meet so casually.
The violet-haired woman—Selvaria—smiled faintly, setting her tea aside. "My, Wendel, how sharp you are," she said, her voice like velvet wrapping around steel. "It is true that I... spoke with young Shouta Izumi. However, it was not coercion. The choice he made was his own."
Miss Aiko's chest tightened. "Spoke with him...? When? Why?" she asked, unable to stop the questions pouring out.
Selvaria tilted her head, her violet hair cascading like a river of stars. "Young souls like him often find themselves lost in a world like this," she said serenely. "When he realised the path he walked was not aligned with the others... he sought guidance. I merely answered."
Wendel frowned, but he said nothing yet.
The Pope finally spoke, his voice gentle but firm: "Selvaria is an honoured guest of the Church. She has permission to counsel those who seek her out. But," he paused, looking at her carefully, "you should have informed us if you intended to advise the summoned."
Selvaria’s smile never wavered. "Forgive me, Your Holiness. I did not anticipate that his heart would move so quickly."
Miss Aiko's fingers gripped the hem of her dress tightly beneath the table. There was so much she didn't understand. Why would Shouta—Shouta Izumi—seek counsel from someone like this? What had he been thinking all this time...?
Wendel bowed his head lightly. "Your Holiness," he said, "may we be permitted to form a search party to retrieve Shouta Izumi? If he has truly only just left, he cannot be far."
The Pope considered for a moment, then nodded gravely. "You have my blessing. Wendel, Miss Aiko... please find him. Before greater forces find him first."
The words sent a chill down Miss Aiko’s spine.
Greater forces...? Was Shouta in danger? Or had he already crossed a line they could never undo?
As they stood to leave, Selvaria watched them with a mysterious glint in her violet eyes— As if she knew more than she had said. As if Shouta Izumi’s disappearance was only the beginning.
The Pope raised a gentle hand, silencing Miss Aiko before her fears could spill forth.
"You need not worry about Shouta Izumi, Miss Aiko," he said, voice calm and steady like a still ke. "Lady Selvaria, seated before you, possesses the sacred gift of futuresight. She has glimpsed Shouta Izumi’s path. His destiny does not lie within these crowded, sheltered walls. His true journey demands freedom."
Miss Aiko blinked, struggling to process the Pope’s words. "But... what about me?" she asked, her voice small, uncertain. "What if something happens to him out there?"
The Pope’s golden eyes softened. "You must trust, Miss Aiko," he said. "Shouta is safe. We have watchers observing him from a distance. As we speak, he resides in Vinterheim, the Northern Empire. At dawn, he used teleportation magic through the city's Magic Tower."
Miss Aiko felt a small wave of relief — yet it was immediately repced by a new anxiety as the Pope’s next words fell heavily:
"You should worry more for yourself." He shifted his gaze toward Selvaria. "Lady Selvaria will expin."
The violet-haired woman set down her teacup with a delicate motion, rising gracefully from the sofa.
Her deep violet eyes shimmered with enthusiasm, almost childlike in their brightness.
"I am Selvaria of the Twilight Vow!" she announced, pcing a hand proudly over her heart. "The only legendary mage of the Holy Kingdom!"
Miss Aiko, caught off guard by the sudden theatrical energy, gave an awkward bow. "I-I’m Aiko Himura. Just... a teacher. Nothing legendary about me."
Selvaria beamed, undeterred. "Ice to meet you, Miss Aiko, teacher of heroes from another nd!"
Her voice rang out like the chime of a silver bell.
Then, with a slight shift of mood, Selvaria’s expression grew more serious, still kind, but heavy with the weight of knowledge.
"My power," she said, "is the ability to glimpse the threads of fate, destiny, and future. Sometimes it comes as visions. Sometimes, as whispers on the wind. It is not a gift without a burden."
She began to pace slowly before the grand window, sunlight catching the silver embroidery of her long robes.
"The heroes summoned here will not walk an easy path," Selvaria continued. "Their suffering will be great, and much of it will be caused by one among you, cloaked in a dark, seething aura. That darkness... it is already blooming."
Miss Aiko stiffened. "Someone... among us?" she whispered.
Selvaria nodded solemnly. "Whether the one wrapped in darkness will shatter this world or be saved... depends rgely on you, Miss Aiko."
Miss Aiko felt as if her chest tightened painfully.
"Your life from now on will not be gentle," Selvaria said, her voice soft with sorrow. "Every step you take will be heavy. Every choice will carry weight you cannot imagine. Prepare yourself — for battles not only of sword and magic, but of heart and soul."
Silence fell in the Pope’s sacred office, broken only by the faint crackle of incense in the distant brazier.
Finally, Selvaria turned, her gaze once more sparkling with childish enthusiasm, breaking the heavy mood slightly.
"As for Shouta Izumi," she said, smiling warmly, "his destiny sings of freedom. He was born to follow the will of his spirit, not to be caged within these pristine white walls."
She ughed lightly, like a breeze dancing among cherry blossoms.
"Let him walk. Do not chain him by fear."
Miss Aiko opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could she say? There was too much—too many emotions, too many revetions for her heart to contain.
She simply stood there, hands clutching the edge of her dress, eyes wide and lost.
Selvaria only smiled at her knowingly, as if she had seen this moment a thousand times already.
And in the stillness of the Holy Office, destiny continued to weave its unseen, inexorable threads.
The meeting with the Pope and Selvaria continued behind closed doors for some time, words spoken in hushed, serious tones that would not be revealed to others yet. When Wendel and Miss Aiko finally emerged, the sacred doors closing behind them, Miss Aiko’s face showed no emotion.
An unreadable mask.
Her hands were calmly folded before her, her steps steady, but Wendel, walking beside her, noticed the slight tightness in her shoulders.
Without a word, the two made their way toward the grand training grounds where the summoned students had gathered.
The sun hung high overhead, bathing the grounds in a warm golden glow. Voices of youth and energy filled the air, but as the two adults approached, the noise slowly died down.
Everyone turned, sensing something was wrong.
Miss Aiko stopped in front of them, taking a moment to find her voice.
"I have an announcement," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the field. "Shouta Izumi... has gone missing."
Murmurs rippled across the group immediately. Faces turned, expressions twisted into shock, worry, and confusion.
Miss Aiko continued, forcing herself to remain composed:
"The Holy Church has organised a search party to find him. The Pope himself believes Shouta couldn't have travelled far. Please, do not panic."
Her heart twisted painfully. She hated lying to them — hiding the truth of Shouta’s voluntary departure, the revetions she had just heard — but it was necessary. For now.
Before more rumours could spiral, Wendel stepped forward, his voice firm and grounded.
"In preparation for entering the Holy Academy," he said, "you will all undergo intensive training. Harder than before. We cannot afford to fall behind."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"As for Shouta Izumi, do not worry yourselves unnecessarily. He left of his own free will. He will be found soon by the Holy Knights. Focus on your duties."
The students shifted uneasily, emotions pying openly across their faces.
Among them, Mirei Hoshino clenched her fists at her sides. First Alicia... now Shouta? A tight, sinking feeling gnawed at her stomach.
She gnced toward Haruka Minami — Only to see the other girl standing there with a bnk, unreadable face.
Haruka didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Inside, however, Haruka’s heart was in chaos.
She remembered Shouta’s words — "Wait for me. I’ll get stronger." Now, knowing he was gone, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing the rising tears back. She had promised him.
She had to stay strong.
The murmuring among the other students grew louder.
Some specuted Shouta had run away for attention. Others whispered about darker forces — kidnappings, curses, betrayal. Some wondered if it had something to do with Makabe Jin’s bullying.
Makabe Jin stood apart from it all — silent, brooding, his face unreadable. He neither denied nor defended himself.
The tension crackled in the air.
Finally, Wendel cpped his hands once, sharply.
"Dismissed! Resume your training!" he barked.
Slowly, reluctantly, the students drifted back to their routines — sparring, magic practice, weapon drills. Yet an invisible weight hung over the grounds, a silent storm gathering strength in the hearts of those left behind.
The sun continued to shine, indifferent to the quiet fractures forming among the heroes.
And somewhere far away, Shouta Izumi walked a path no one else could follow.
Mirei Hoshino sat quietly in the carriage, feeling the soft, rhythmic rocking as the wheels rolled over the cobblestone roads. Outside the window, the city of the Holy Kingdom slowly blurred past — grand cathedrals, bustling market stalls, and cheering townsfolk waving and calling out blessings as the "Heroes" passed.
It had been two months since they were summoned. One month spent recovering, another spent training harder than she had ever imagined.
And now... it was finally time to move forward.
Mirei's eyes drifted around the carriage.
Across from her sat Shizuka Kurosawa, her posture straight and graceful even in the cramped space. Shizuka was striking — her long bck hair tied into a high ponytail, her sharp dark eyes steady yet kind. She carried herself with the quiet confidence of a warrior, strong yet warm. There was an air of natural elegance about her, a beauty that drew the admiration of both boys and girls back on Earth — and even more so here, where strength was revered above all.
Beside Shizuka sat Renji Morisawa, casually leaning back with his hands behind his head, grinning zily at the passing scenery.
Mirei’s gaze lingered on him thoughtfully.
Renji Morisawa — He had been a popur figure back at school, with messy brown hair that always seemed one gust of wind away from wild, and clear, striking blue eyes. Rumours painted him as a childish, self-centred boy with a hero complex, someone who liked the sound of his name too much, quick to bme others when things didn't go his way.
At least... that's what Mirei had heard.
But the boy sitting in front of her now seemed different.
Renji was easygoing, ughing and chatting kindly with Shizuka and Miss Aiko, offering help during their travels, and working diligently during training sessions. Maybe... the rumours were wrong. Or maybe, like all of them, he had grown during these hard, lonely months.
Renji was no joke either — His "Magic Swordsman" css had been evaluated as S-Rank, and his skill, Sword of Light, had the potential to cut through even magical barriers. He had talent — and more importantly, he had spirit.
Mirei allowed herself a small smile.
Seated next to her was Miss Aiko — their pilr of calm. The young teacher's short brown hair fluttered slightly with the breeze coming through the window, her kind brown eyes watching over them with quiet vigince. Miss Aiko was everything a teacher should be: patient, gentle, and endlessly supportive. Yet tely... a shadow seemed to linger behind her warm smiles, something Mirei couldn't quite put into words.
And finally — beside Shizuka — sat Haruka Nakano.
Haruka had always been a gentle, saint-like girl, her bck hair softly framing her delicate face, her soft-spoken nature making her seem almost like a figure from a painting.
But now...
Since Shouta Izumi's disappearance, Haruka had become more introverted than ever. She spoke little, her gaze often distant, as if clinging desperately to something only she could see.
Mirei felt a pang in her chest watching her.
Haruka was trying to be strong. They all were.
The carriage rumbled on.
Outside the window, the distant silhouette of a grand gate grew steadily rger. The gates of the Holy Magic Academy — the pce where they would learn to control their powers, grow stronger, and one day fulfil their role as saviours.
Mirei could hear the faint sounds of the crowd outside — cheers, songs, bells ringing in welcome as they passed through the common districts.
Children waved fgs. Merchants shouted blessings. Old women tossed petals onto the road.
To these people, they were already "heroes."
But Mirei knew better. They were just children — scared, uncertain, struggling to find their footing in a world that demanded greatness from them.
She clenched her fists slightly in her p.
Alicia... Shouta...
Two names burned quietly in her heart.
Two missing stars in their consteltion.
As the carriage approached the towering gates, Mirei took a deep breath and forced herself to sit straighter.
No matter what had happened... No matter what was lost...
They had to keep moving forward.
_____________________________________________________________________
Shadows Beneath the Light
The room was buried in gloom. Only faint candlelight pushed back the darkness, casting long, shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls. Around the wide, round table, six figures sat — all equal in position, but not in presence.
Even the Pope, cd in white and gold, a symbol of divine authority to the outside world, sat humbly among them, just another voice within this secret council.
The five others wore long cloaks that shrouded their bodies completely, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. Only glints of silver, scarlet, or midnight blue could be glimpsed at the hems of their robes — subtle marks of their ancient ranks, far above the earthly titles the world knew.
No names were spoken here.
No titles decred.
Only duty.
Only the fate of the world.
The Pope bowed his head slightly in deference before he spoke.
“The heroes have departed for the Holy Magic Academy. Their journey proceeds without incident."
A ripple of quiet acknowledgement passed among the cloaked figures.
Their silence was heavier than any spoken word.
“Their strength has grown over the past month,” the Pope continued carefully, choosing each word like a man treading a tightrope. “They have formed bonds, learned to wield their gifts. Soon, they will stand ready.”
One of the cloaked figures moved slightly, a rustle of cloth against stone.
A voice — low, cold, genderless — emerged from beneath the hood.
“And yet... the world stirs with unease.”
The Pope nodded gravely.
“There are confirmed reports of demon sightings in the southern reaches of the kingdom.”
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
“Creatures that should have been sealed away... yet they roam once more.”
Another figure — taller, with a faint trace of silver embroidery on their sleeves — spoke next.
“Is it the beginning?”
The Pope’s throat tightened, but he answered steadily.
“It is too soon to say. But the signs are... troubling."
The candles flickered, as if in response to his words.
Another figure leaned forward slightly, gloved hands resting on the table’s edge.
“And what of the lost hero?”
The room grew colder, the very air seeming to freeze.
The Pope’s hands tightened on his staff.
“Shouta Izumi has vanished without a trace. Neither magic nor mundane means have been able to locate him. It is as if he were swallowed by the void itself.”
Murmurs, almost imperceptible, echoed around the table.
“Unacceptable,” whispered one cloaked figure, the words soft yet carrying the weight of a decree.
“The bance weakens if even one of the chosen falls.”
The Pope bowed his head.
“We have dispatched shadows. Search parties move under the guise. But until further intelligence arises... we must assume the worst.”
Another figure, voice older, raspier, spoke.
“And the others?”
“They grow stronger with each passing day,” the Pope said. “Their hearts remain pure. Their faith unshaken.”
“For now,” the cold voice murmured.
A heavy silence.
Then the silver-sleeved figure asked:
“And the political entanglements?”
The Pope exhaled slowly.
“The royal families stir. The noble houses, too. The Empire across the sea sends veiled messages. All seek to pull the heroes to their banners, to cim them as pawns for their ambitions.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“In particur, the daughters of the Elf King and Beast King are being sent to enrol in the Holy Magic Academy. Under the guise of 'friendship'... but with clear intentions to forge alliances.”
One of the cloaked figures gave a low, humourless chuckle.
“As expected. Mortals always dance to the tune of power.”
“The heroes must remain loyal to the Light,” said another figure, voice sharp like a bde. “No matter the offers, no matter the temptations."
“We are preparing measures to ensure their bonds remain firm,” the Pope assured them. “They are young. Impressionable. Proper guidance will prevent them from straying.”
For a moment, all seemed still.
Until another, softer voice finally asked:
“And the anomaly?”
The Pope stiffened slightly.
Even in this gathering, this question weighed the heaviest.
“There remains... one missing from the summoning.”
The cloaked figures waited, expectant.
“Alicia Tsukihana.”
The name seemed to darken the very room.
“She was called," the Pope said, his voice low. "Her name appeared among the chosen. Her garments materialised. Her records confirmed. And yet — she did not arrive.”
A gloved hand tapped once against the table.
“A fw in the ritual?” one figure questioned, sceptical.
“Impossible,” the Pope replied immediately. “The summoning was overseen personally by... Her Eminence."
A slight murmur ran through the cloaked figures at the mention.
“Even so...” another voice pressed.
The Pope closed his eyes briefly.
“The Lady exerted herself beyond even her limits. Her reserves were strained. Her mana shattered.”
He looked up, meeting the unseen gazes.
“She is currently in isotion, recovering her strength. No one may disturb her.”
Silence, once more.
Each of the five cloaked figures seemed to weigh the situation with the gravity of gods.
Finally, the oldest among them spoke again:
“The missing hero. The demon sightings. The lost Shouta. The movements of kings and pawns. The shifting winds herald a storm greater than any before."
A heavy finality y in those words.
The Pope bowed his head.
“I await your commands.”
One figure, draped in a cloak so dark it seemed to drink the light around it, spoke at st:
“Proceed as pnned. Watch the heroes. Strengthen their bonds. Search for the missing ones. Guard the Lady’s recovery at all costs."
“And most of all..." whispered another, their voice barely a breath, "Prepare for war.”
The candles guttered suddenly, as if a great breath had passed through the room.
One by one, the cloaked figures rose and disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the Pope behind, seated at the table, alone, as the st candle died.
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Thank you so much for reading up to this point!If you enjoyed the story or have any suggestions, feel free to leave a comment — I read every single one. Your feedback means a lot to me!
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