The sky above Atrian Church was always gray. No matter the season, the clouds refused to part. And among all the orphans, only one never asked why.
Kael sat on the cold pew, hands clasped, head bowed. No tears. No words. Just silence.
Before him, the altar stood empty.
And above it, the old crucifix—cracked in the center. As if even God had grown too weary to watch.
"Kael," Father Eluon's soft voice called from behind. "It's time to rest."
Kael turned. His gaze was sharp, yet calm. He gave a small nod and rose, walking past the creaking rows of wooden benches.
---
In the church's back hallway, Father Eluon waited. His face was lined with age, but his eyes held a guilt no prayer could erase.
"Kael…" he whispered. "I know you're not one to ask questions. But… may I ask you something?"
Kael said nothing.
"Have you ever… heard a voice inside your head?"
Time seemed to pause.
Kael looked into the priest's eyes. Then, for the first time that day, he spoke:
"If there was, I wouldn't call it real. Because real voices… don't come from within."
Father Eluon trembled. He stared at Kael for a long while, then lowered his head. "I understand."
---
That night, Kael sat alone in his room. He stared out the window toward the starless sky. The night wind carried the faint rustle of trees beyond the church fence.
> "You don't believe me?"
That voice again.
> "Or are you simply waiting... for me to say what must not yet be said?"
Kael did not answer.
But something changed in his face. Not emotion. But something like… a silent acknowledgment.
---
And in the deepest chamber of the Tower of the Third Light, a long-dead violet glow flickered back to life.