It hurt.
It truly hurt him to know that when the invasion began, and it most likely already had, he would be one of the first to run.
No heroic last stands, no dramatic sacrifices. Just survival.
He had to abandon the thought of saving anyone, even though a part of him still clung to the hope that Elm would somehow defy fate and protect them all.
If he wanted a clean future, one free from the horrors written in the game's script, he couldn't afford to take on anyone's burden. Not even hers.
Father John called the next name. "Galland of Mayor's House, step forward."
Willow sighed.
Galland strutted up to the altar with the confidence of someone born into privilege. His father stood a few meters away, smiling wide beneath a lace parasol that looked too big for his small frame. Every inch of him gleamed with wealth, from the gold rings on his fingers to the proud arrogance in his eyes.
Father John greeted the boy with polite formality, his tone noticeably colder than it had been with the earlier candidates. Willow couldn't blame him. Even the priestess knew better than to offend the mayor's spoiled son. A single complaint could stir trouble for the church.
"Child of Hum," she said with practiced grace, resting his hand above Galland's head. "May your soul be blessed and your path guided toward virtue."
Light flared at his touch, golden at first, then splitting into streaks of sharp yellow that danced through the air like threads of lightning. The crowd gasped. Father John blinked in surprise, her voice quivering slightly.
"The Emblem of Pure Lightning."
Excited murmurs spread like ripples through the pews.
"Lightning? That's rare."
"Hum must truly favor him."
"What does it mean? Pure Lightning?"
Willow crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Lucky brat," he muttered.
He could admit, though, that the boy had received a remarkable Emblem. Pure Lightning was rare, a power revered for its speed and destructive strength. With proper training, Galland could become a formidable holy knight, a rare profession for the men of this world. But that was only if his ego didn't weigh more than his talent.
Galland looked across the rows and caught Willow's eye. The smug grin that followed made Willow's stomach turn. Then came the wink.
"Yeah, yeah," Willow muttered under his breath. "Fuck you too."
Being the prettiest boy in town wasn't a blessing. It meant enduring stares, whispers, and unwanted attention from women who saw him as a prize, and from men who should have known better.
Galland, unfortunately, was one of the latter.
Before Willow could glare, Elm's cold eyes shifted toward the stage. The air seemed to tighten.
Galland froze, stiffening like a scolded dog before turning hastily away.
Willow couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Thanks, Elm."
"Mm." Her tone was flat, but he heard the faint amusement in it.
The ceremony continued. More children approached the dais, knelt, and received their Emblems. As time passed, sunlight crept through the stained glass windows, spilling color over the white and gold interior. Yet beneath that peaceful glow, tension brewed.
Guards whispered quietly along the walls. Their armor clinked softly as they moved with restless urgency. Willow could see his mother among them, giving crisp commands, her stance sharp and commanding. The nobles had begun to leave first, escorted northward toward the supposed Safe House, while the commoners were gently herded to follow.
Only Willow knew the truth. The Safe House was anything but safe.
The forest that surrounded it would soon be the first place to burn.
His lips pressed together. His heart wouldn't stop pounding. This was it. The wheel of fate was already turning.
Then it was Elm's turn.
Excitement surged through the hall. Whispers rose from every corner, laced with awe and pride. The townspeople adored her. Olivia's eyes shimmered with tears where she stood in her armor, while Leonard sat in the crowd, beaming with fatherly joy.
Elm stepped forward with calm grace, her golden hair catching the morning light.
Father John smiled softly. "Child of Hum, kneel before the Lord and bare your soul."
Elm lowered herself and folded her hands. The priestess placed a hand upon her head and began to chant.
The air stirred. A hum filled the silence, deep and resonant. Light began to bloom around Elm's form, gentle at first, then brighter and brighter until it swallowed the hall in gold. The church bells began to toll without being touched, their melody blending with a higher, ethereal ringing. Two radiant figures appeared above her, their shapes like that of cherubs woven from light. They descended slowly, carrying a silver wreath between them, and crowned her with it.
Gasps and cries echoed through the church.
"What's happening?"
"Are those angels?"
"By Hum's grace, it's a miracle!"
Willow stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything like it. In the game, the Awakening had been a simple flash of light. There had been no angels, no divine music. This was real, and it was overwhelming.
When the brilliance finally faded, silence filled the church.
Father John was shaking. His lips parted as tears welled in his eyes. "The prophecy," she whispered. "So, it's come true. . . ."
Elm looked down at the glowing sigil etched into her hand. "Oh," she said, examining it like an interesting trinket. "Pretty."
Willow almost laughed. She had no idea how monumental this was.
The priestess quickly beckoned a guard forward and whispered something urgent. The guard nodded and approached Elm. After a brief exchange, Elm followed her out of the church.
Olivia froze in the middle of giving orders, her expression tight with concern.
Father John turned to the crowd with a serene smile. "A small disturbance occurred during the Awakening. The girl will undergo a brief retrial. Please remain seated."
The crowd murmured, confused but obedient. No one questioned the word of the Church.
Olivia hesitated but caught the priestess's silent glance, a plea for trust. She exhaled and returned to her post, her hand gripping her sword as she scanned the hall for any sign of threat.
Then Father John looked down at his list. Only one name remained.
"Willow of Olivia's line," she called. "Come forward."
The hall quieted instantly.
Willow's body felt heavy as he rose. Every step toward the dais seemed to echo too loudly in the vast silence. His heart hammered. His vision blurred.
Was this what it felt like to cross the line between youth and adulthood? To walk willingly into a world that would devour you whole?
He drew a slow breath and whispered to himself. "Alright, let's get this over with."