Reach out, touch faith.

Rays of light penetrated through the grey clouds, casting down their white beams to the dirt of the earth below. Soon the clouds disappeared, leaving the sky a clear, pale blue; free of all clouds, and pure. Tic traveled further down the roads of the village, in search of a cobbler, though without luck in finding one. From what it was worth, he left his hood on, despite the absence of rain. He was defenseless, and the possibility of a Guardian appearing did not comfort him. Though so far from the castle, he was still in Larkin’s territory. And though so far from Larkin, he still felt haunted…

It had only been three nights ago. The night was calm, without rain or thunder, from what he remembered. And when he remembered, it was as if trying to remember a dream; only fragments and feelings remained. But it happened so quickly. The kiss, the skin, the touch. And then, when he awoke from the nightmare, it was not he who was screaming. The sound and image were clear in his mind: the man, crying out in pain, clutching his face and falling from the bed. He did not turn back to look at Tic as he parted, leaving him lying on the bed, his chest bared and blood seeping from his nose.

Tic lifted his eyes, suddenly breaking himself from his thoughts and looking to his surroundings. The buildings, the very of few of them, were unfamiliar; small, one-roomed houses spread out along the road, fences in front of them, barricading small animals inside. A larger, white building sat further down the empty road, while the road itself seemed to disappear into a vast, green field out in the distance. He stood for a moment, his head turned back into the direction he came, scanning the town for any sign of a shop or tavern, and seeing neither. It looked like he had reached the edge of the town.

He set his eyes on the grand white building down the road. Perhaps there was someone in there who could guide him back to the proper shop, he thought, making his way towards it. Upon nearing the building, he saw that it was unlike any other of the buildings in the village. Long, majestic pillars stood in front of it, holding up a tilted roof. On the front of the building, just below the roof, there was a large, circular window, whose glass gleamed in the morning light. The entrance, situated behind the pillars, was wide, with broad double-doors and a semicircle of a window just above it. When he neared enough to tell that the entire building was made of a white marble, he realized exactly what it was.

A temple.

This was a temple of Élanzir, he knew; he had visited temples when he was very young, before the death of his father. He remembered how devout his father was; how each night, before he went to bed, his father would come to him to say a silent prayer. But when his father was killed, he could not understand how the Gods could allow it to happen. He didn’t want to put his faith into something that didn’t exist. He could not stand the thought of something else controlling his life. He stopped believing.

Tic paused for a moment, standing just before the marble staircase, staring up into the rose window above. He moved his eyes down, towards the entrance, staring as if waiting for something to stop him. Slowly, he climbed the stairs, the dirt of his ruined shoes leaving marks on the white of the marble as he stepped. But it didn’t matter to him anymore that he was searching for shoes. He was searching for something else.

The aroma of incense immediately took to his sense of smell as he walked within, careful to shut the door behind him quietly. When he turned, his eyes were met with a magnificent sight. Light shined in from the many windows, casting columns of white rays down onto the floor and into the small, round pool of water in the center of the room. The light reflected off the pool and onto the white walls, rippling across the walls in trembling waves. Though the grand chamber was well-lit, candles sat along the floor and on the higher walls, in hanging fixtures from the ceiling and on mantles. At the back of the room, there were white doors leading further into the depths of the temple, perhaps even underground. The entire room gave off an ethereal sort of aura, but Tic was surprised to find it empty.

Hesitating, he walked forward, removing his hood and stepping gingerly down the stairs towards the clear pool. A dark metal hanging came from the ceiling, hanging above the pool, holding a bright blue flame in the center of it, grey smoke drifting into the air. He looked around him carefully, to be certain that he was the only presence in the room, and walked slowly towards the edge of the pool. Gazing into it, he kneeled, as if to pray, and saw the violet eyes of someone else staring back up at him.

What he saw there was a face; the face of a peasant, a rebel, someone without the understanding of what destiny planned for him. Nothing had changed in the face, yet there was something eternally different about its owner. Something he didn’t quite comprehend, and didn’t know whether to accept. All his life he had spent unknowing to his ability; so why now? Why now did he realize? He could have helped, could have saved so many people. His father could still be alive. He moved his hand over the surface of the water, distorting the reflection into broken fragments of himself. This was not the face of a healer. It was the face of a rat.

Suddenly, there was a muffled sound, as if someone was screaming. Tic lifted his eyes from the pool and looked to the back of the room, standing and watching as one of the doors burst open. Three men came out, two of them holding up the third, their arms around his shoulders. Long, white, flowing robes hung from their bodies, and upon each of their foreheads, a blue circle within a white ring was painted. Priests. The two moved slowly, struggling to keep the third standing, who cried out again in agony.

“The burning! The burning shall reign!”

Tic stared helplessly, watching the screaming priest as the men carried him to the pool. He was younger than the others, and his hair, though young, had streaks of grey in it. His eyes were rolling up towards the ceiling, nearly disappearing beneath his eyelids, as if permanently fixed upon the sky. He continued to yell, his cries hoarse and choked.

“All will perish in the flames! Can’t you see it! The entire village is going to burn! And the world will be consumed by his darkness… such terrible things are going to happen! Can you not see?!”

The men ushered him towards the pool, dropped him to his knees and kneeled beside him at the edge of the water. They didn’t seem to notice Tic, who had backed away from the pool as soon as they neared. One of the priests stood, the eldest priest; he closed his eyes, put his fingertips together, and began to mutter words. The other priest, with his hand on the young priest’s back, whispered to him comfortingly.

“Wash your face, Kein, cleanse yourself.”

The priest stopped screaming and gave in; he leaned down towards the pool, cupped the blessed water in his hands and threw it into his face. He rubbed his hands briskly across his eyes, throwing the water again into it, and repeating. After a few moments of peace, the elder priest leaned down to the young priest, and whispered softly. “Is everything alright now, Kein?”

The young priest did not answer. His head was still in his hands, but he peered over the top of his fingers into the pool. He lifted his eyes suddenly, and gazed straight into the face of Tic.

“Kein?”

The man stared at Tic, eyes widening. He lowered his face back into his hands, muttering something that Tic could not hear.

“Take him back downstairs,” the elder priest spoke. The other priest nodded, moving to take Kein by the arm. But the young priest pushed the man’s arm away, lifting his head and reaching out to Tic desperately.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to Tic, gazing at him from across the pool, his hands stretched up towards him. The boy stared on, uncertain of what to do or where to turn. “Forgive me!” the priest whispered again, but Tic only watched as he was lifted to his feet, taken gently by the arm, and guided towards the door. The door slammed shut, leaving Tic and the elder priest in silence.

“I must apologize,” the priest spoke out of the quiet, bowing to Tic. He was tall, his head hairless and his skin paler than the white of his robes. “This usually doesn’t occur during the day. I am sorry you had to witness it.”

Unsure of what to say, Tic lowered his eyes to the pool. There were stains of water around the edge where the young priest had been. Strange, how the man acted; it was as if he was possessed. Finally, Tic raised his eyes, speaking from his thoughts. “What was wrong with him?”

The priest seemed to sigh. “He has the gift of foresight.”

Tic looked down. Foresight? The young priest said the village was going to burn. But it couldn’t be true, could it?

“His visions are rarely accurate, however,” the priest spoke reassuringly. He paused, glancing at Tic through his dark grey eyes, scrutinizing him. There was silence again, then, “Come closer, child… what brings you here?”

Tic obeyed, walking out from behind the pool and towards the priest. He stopped when within talking range of the man, remembering suddenly why he had come there in the first place.

“I.. was looking for a cobbler, but…” he trailed off.

“Ah,” spoke the priest. “But you got lost.”

Tic nodded.

“The best means of finding your way is to get lost first,” said the priest, who stepped forward into a patch of light. His skin seemed to glow. “What is your name?”

“Tic,” he began, but was cut off by the sound of a door opening. He looked past the elder priest, back to the same door that the young priest had been brought out. It was the other priest, the one who had helped the young priest out of the room. He stood, closing the door gently behind him.

The elder priest turned his head back to the door. “Is he alright?”

The man came forward, nodding, and making his way towards the elder priest in an almost urgent manner. He gave a long, worried glance to Tic before turning the elder priest away and whispering something to him. They talked quietly, speaking in hushed voices so that Tic could not hear. After a few moments, the elder priest turned his glance on Tic; his eyebrows were lifted, as if in surprise. He turned back to the other priest, shaking his head. They spoke for a moment more, and then the other priest nodded, bowed his head and headed back towards the door.

The door was shut, and silence came again. The elder priest looked upon Tic.

“Tic, did you say?”

“Yes,” he spoke, “Tic Synkrat Ideo.”

“Ah.” The priest didn’t speak for moments after that. He looked down to the pool, as if in contemplation, his hands clasped together in front of him. Tic started to feel awkward in the growing silence, and began to turn, to announce his leave, but the door creaked opened once more. The same priest came out, carrying a pair of light brown boots in his hands.

“Ah,” the priest spoke again, lifting his eyes and taking the boots from the man. “You are in need of shoes, am I not correct?”

But before Tic could say anything, the priest held the boots out to him.

“Please, accept this as my apology.” He stepped forward, placed the boots into Tic’s arms, and lowered his head.

Tic looked down into his arms. The boots were thin, long, with a column of black laces on their fronts. They looked to be just the right size. He bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

The priest smiled down upon him.

“You are very welcome, Tic, to everything we have to offer. Do not be afraid to come to us again if you need anything.”

Tic nodded, bowed again and turned back towards the entrance. The priests watched him as he left, turning to each other once he was out of the building completely.

“He saw the boy in a vision?” the elder priest asked.

“Yes.. he said the boy is of the Blessed.”

“It mustn’t be true.”

“We shall see..”