The church stood as a timeless sentinel, a monument to the resilience of the northern people. It had endured wars, plagues, and the ceaseless trials of their harsh climate. It was a sanctuary, a place where unity and shared faith brought solace and eased the burdens of life. Upon seeing the church's imposing structure, citizens instinctively bowed their heads, a reverence passed down through generations.

  Baurous's church architecture was a physical manifestation of their faith. Constructed from rough, irregular stones bound with reinforced clay, its hexagonal roof tiles were crafted from a unique blend of wood, mud, and a magically tempered soil sourced from the region's deepest caverns. Ornate windows and doors, adorned with intricate designs and culturally significant floral frames, captivated onlookers. The spacious, meticulously maintained courtyard offered a serene public space for reflection, a rare pocket of tranquility.

  The church, though a bastion of faith, also played a strategic role in the lives of the northerners. Fear of the Awakened, those touched by the mystical energies of the world, and the cursed legends that swirled around them, was deeply ingrained. To combat this, the church actively sought to integrate the Awakened into society, framing those within their reach as heroes, champions amongst the dreamers. They offered resources, training, and a semblance of hope against the ever-present dangers of the elements and monstrous beasts.

  Asdras's gaze was drawn to the exorcist, his grip firm on the arm of an old storyteller as they moved through the courtyard-lined hallway. Whispers of prayers rippled through the air, mingling with the distant strains of a piano melody. The notes, carried on the breeze, were both haunting and beautiful, each chord a sensory caress that sent a shiver of unbidden calmness down Asdras's spine.

  A nudge from Brian broke his reverie. "Did you catch the scar on his left hand?" he whispered.

  Asdras nodded, his eyes tracing the lines of the exorcist's dark robe, noting the small, etched details and cryptic symbols. "And the hidden weapon in his sleeves?" A faint gleam of silver, caught momentarily in a stray sunbeam, betrayed its presence.

  As they neared the center of the hallway, the old man, silent until now, erupted with a surge of unexpected strength. He broke free from the exorcist's grasp, sending the exorcist stumbling. The old man scrambled towards a nearby tree in the courtyard, his breath ragged, his voice a cracked, desperate cry, "He approaches! He approaches! The shadow-clad specters shall wreak havoc upon us all! Those on the other side will arrive!"

  Priests and onlookers turned, a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity on their faces. Some edged closer, cautiously, while others sought the dubious safety of shadowed corners, peering out like frightened animals. Asdras saw a blur of movement, the exorcist, a dark streak sprinting towards the man.

  'Way faster than Raffin,' Asdras thought.

  Before he could witness the inevitable collision, a pain like a white-hot needle pierced his head. He screamed, a raw, raspy sound, "Damn!"

  His chest constricted, his heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drummer in a death march. He collapsed to his knees, his vision blurring, the crimson crow symbol on his hand burning as if the infernal bird had suddenly ignited. He gasped for breath, the sounds around him — Brian's frantic calls for help — fading into a muffled, indistinct roar. Then, darkness claimed him.

  Time seemed to stretch, contract, and lose all meaning. Asdras awoke to a room thick with the cloying scent of wax and incense, a sweet-sharp aroma that tickled his throat and brought on a fit of coughing. He lay still, the soft linen sheets a stark contrast to the firm, aged mattress beneath him.

  His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the chamber bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight. Shadows danced across the uneven stone walls, their forms shifting and distorted. The reflections of flames glimmered on a polished brass cross mounted high above. A long, narrow window stood slightly ajar, allowing a chilly draft to enter, carrying with it the scent of the outside world — damp earth, distant steam, and the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.

  The room was sparsely furnished. A simple wooden chair, a small, unadorned table holding a ceramic pitcher and bowl. A threadbare rug, its edges frayed and worn, lay beside the bed. Asdras attempted to move, to push himself up, but his limbs felt leaden, unresponsive. A soft groan, foreign and weak, escaped his lips. On his second try, the door creaked open.

  Light from the corridor spilled in, broadening the illumination and causing him to squint. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. In the doorway stood a silhouetted figure, backlit by the stark light, only a wooden staff clearly visible.

  "Ah, I see you're awake. That's excellent!" The voice was calm and soothing, like warm honey on a winter's day.

  Asdras struggled to form words, his voice raspy and unfamiliar. "Who... are you?" He gave up, sinking back onto the bed, his head tilted to get a better view.

  The man chuckled warmly, approaching the nearby chair. "I'm Elias, the bishop."

  Elias was an unassuming elder, a man who could easily fade into a crowd of the faithful. His face was a tapestry of wrinkles, each line telling a tale of years spent in devotion. A sparse fringe of white hair framed his polished, bald crown. Despite his age, a friendly, almost mischievous smile played on his lips, hinting at a hidden wellspring of joy. It was his robes that distinguished him.

  A deep, almost black shade of dark blue, they seemed to absorb the ambient light. Intricate patterns of gold, like winding rivers on a battle map, adorned the rich fabric, forming elaborate spirals and geometric shapes. One eye was blind, a milky, vacant orb, while the other sparkled with a clear, piercing blue intensity.

  Elias gestured with a calming hand. "Take a deep breath. I imagine you have many questions, young one. I would if I were in your shoes."

  Asdras remained tense, his eyes locked onto Elias. Caution, perhaps born of instinct or ingrained belief, kept his guard firmly in place.

  "Don't worry, your friend Brian is fine. He's likely having a meal in the dining hall now. Oh, but there's something else I nearly forgot."

  Elias rose from his chair and approached Asdras, his hand steady despite his age. As his palm faced Asdras, a white glow began to emanate, unfurling like steam from a cauldron, ethereal and otherworldly.

  The luminous energy danced, a silent ballet of healing, forging a connection between Elias and Asdras. It swirled and surged, weaving through the emptiness, finally meeting Asdras's forehead with a gentle, pale touch. The room dimmed, surrendering its colors to the instant, casting everything into a soft, shadowy haze. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the glow erupted in a brilliant flash, dissipating its energy. Asdras felt a wave of intense warmth, not searing but cleansing, flood his body. Revitalized, his eyes opened, clearer and brighter. He cleared his throat. "What was that?"

  Elias settled back into his chair, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "That's an intriguing question, my young friend. It seems you're drawn to the mysteries of the world. Convenient. As for your query, it pertains to my awakening power.”

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  "Awakening?"

  Elias nodded. "We'll discuss it another time. I'm confident that during your time at the academy, you'll gain a deeper understanding of it."

  On his third attempt, Asdras managed to sit on the edge of the bed, his body contorting, angled slightly to the left.

  "How do you know?" Asdras asked, adjusting his eyes to the light.

  Elias smiled, retrieving a letter from his robe and placing it on the table for Asdras to see. "Your friend handed me a letter, and by the grace of Saint Rose, it was from an old comrade of mine, Joe."

  "Do you know him?"

  "Indeed, we're close in age, though I find myself nearing my heavenly duties. But, returning to your query, he mentioned a remarkably curious, clever, and formidable fighter eager to enroll in the academy. Am I on the right track?"

  Whether prompted by intuition or the persistent reminder of his goal, Asdras glanced at his cursed hand. "You're right, your holiness."

  “No,” Elias shook his head, a wry smile playing at his mouth. "Holiness' is too formal for my liking. 'Sir' will do just fine."

  "Right, sir!"

  Elias turned his attention to Asdras's hand. "I imagine you're searching for information about your hand. It's rather intriguing."

  Asdras raised his hand towards the beam of light filtering through the window, the crimson crow emblem glowing faintly in his palm.

  "Do you know anything about it, sir?"

  Elias tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, leaning back and stretching his neck. "Indeed, I do. Curses are complex and paradoxical. Let me pose a question: throughout the ages, countless murderers have used knives as their weapon of choice. Should the church or military then forbid the use of knives?"

  "No, sir," Asdras replied without hesitation. "If we did, life would become much harsher. It's not the knife that's the problem; it's the intentions of the one who wields it."

  "You're perceptive, and old Joe knows how to say a prayer that rings true. You're right. The same principle holds for curses. It's not your fault to be born with one, and it doesn't damn you to hell. Your path may be more challenging, but like that knife, it can be wielded for noble purposes."

  "How so?"

  Elias sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if weighed down by his robes. "Much of what I might reveal could pose difficulties for you."

  Asdras scratched his head, recalling Raffin's words. "Would it implicate my awakening?"

  Elias's eyes glinted with surprise. "Oh, who told you that?"

  "Raffin, the deliverer."

  "A fine man, Raffin, twenty-eight years old yet possessing a wisdom that belies his years. And you're correct. But what I can share is that your future may prove to be as demanding as it is intriguing. Cursed weapons are a mark of greatness, and contrary to popular belief, they aren't as common as the tales suggest. This leads us to a related topic — what do you know about exorcists?"

  "Not much, sir. Only the tales. They hunt criminals for the church, like that old man. But why?"

  Elias offered a silent prayer. "God rest his soul, poor man."

  He then stood and produced a dark copper token, an eye etched at its heart. "Catch," he said, nimbly tossing it. Asdras fumbled, catching it with his left hand. "What are your thoughts on joining the Exorcists after graduating from the Academy?"

  Asdras examined the token. A faint blue light pulsed within the iris as the piercing light crossed its frame. "I don't understand, sir."

  Elias shrugged nonchalantly, moving to open the door. "No need to decide right away. First, go to the academy, see if it interests you, and if it does, seek me out. Becoming one of us might be the best path to understanding your curse."

  Asdras met Elias's gaze, and after a moment, nodded. "Okay, sir, I'll think about it. Thank you."

  As Elias was leaving, he added, "You're welcome, young one. Oh, it seems your friend is on his way. Rest well, and may God's blessings be upon your soul."

  Brian bounded into the room, carefully cradling a steaming bowl. The aroma of the meal filled the space.

  A savory lamb stew, the meat tender and glistening from hours of slow cooking, filled the room with a rich, enticing aroma. The scent of rosemary and thyme mingled with other earthy herbs, creating a tantalizing culinary symphony. Each piece of meat was bathed in a golden broth, infused with the essence of the lamb and the sweetness of caramelized onions.

  He set the bowl on the table and studied Asdras. "You alright, mate? I brought you some food."

  The scent made Asdras's stomach rumble, and he nodded as he approached the table. "Thank you, I'm okay now. The bishop used his power on me."

  Brian's eyes widened. "Did you see his power? What was it like?"

  Asdras ate heartily, trying to satisfy his friend's curiosity. "It was amazing! It felt like a light fire bathing you."

  Brian sat on the bed, his shoulders hunched over his knees. "Gosh, I can't wait for the day when we finally awaken our powers."

  Asdras paused, a nagging question resurfacing. "What happened to me?"

  Brian scratched his nose, recounting the events. "I'm not sure, mate. One moment, you keeled over after that old guy lost it. Then, the exorcist rushed to your side and asked to fetch the bishop, carrying you to this room."

  Brian burst into hearty laughter. "Oh, mate, you should've seen yourself getting carried like a damsel in distress!"

  "Cut it out," Asdras snorted. "Then?"

  "Then the bishop showed up. I recall the letter falling to the ground, you know, the one Raffin gave us. So, I handed it to His Holiness," Brian said, peering out the window.

  "It was peculiar. Initially, he seemed focused on you, but once he saw that letter, he stopped dead and read it carefully. Then, he let out a laugh like I've never heard from an old-timer before, maybe old Joe on a good day."

  "After that, he made sure you were alright before chatting with me. And guess what happened next?"

  Asdras savored his meal slowly. "What?"

  Brian spread his arms wide, grinning. "He offered me a spot in a special military unit. The Crazy Dogs!"

  "Crazy Dogs?"

  "Absolutely! They're the muscle of the North's military. He warned me it's a real test, but you know me, I've never turned down a challenge. So, I said yes!"

  "Congratulations, Brian! That's amazing news. He offered me something too."

  "Are you considering joining the military too?"

  "No, he gave me an Exorcist token and offered me a spot after I graduate from the academy."

  Brian scratched his head thoughtfully.

  "We've got ourselves a Crazy Dog and a potential Exorcist in the mix. Quite the team we're building! All we need now is a top-notch hunter, a master craftsman, and a talented chef."

  He put his arm around Asdras's shoulder. "Picture it, mate. Our crew, the best from the North. We are venturing into uncharted territory, taking on all sorts of creatures, and charming the socks off the ladies. We'll be the stuff of legends!"

  Asdras smiled, picturing the adventurous future awaiting their group.

  "Well, I guess for now, we still need to buy our supplies and enroll before the entrance exam deadline."

  "You're spot on, buddy. Let's head back to the inn. We've already paid a silver, and our food is waiting for us, fair and square."