She woke in a blur, her head throbbing, her heart at her lips. She could hear the regular beeping of monitors in the dimly lit room. The infirmary. Around her, white coats were moving in hushed efficiency. Alice was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging idly.
Eileen tried to sit, but the world tilted violently. Vertigo crushed her back into the mattress.
“You should not move,” Alice said.
At the modulation shift in Alice’s tone, the nearest medics turned immediately.
“Welcome back Sentinel. Please remain still. Your body requires additional recovery time.”
“What happened?” she slurred
“We are still assessing the situation. Preliminary tests suggest an adverse reaction to the stimulant administered prior to the ritual. It appears your Gift did not require pharmacological enhancement.”
“So it seems” Eileen whispered.
Alice tilted her head. “Your manifestation was statistically significant.”
A faint grimace crossed Eileen’s face. “Glad I could provide a spectacle.” She swallowed. “How did I get here? I don’t remember finishing the ritual.”
“The Emperor intervened,” Alice said. “He completed the blessing and transported you to the infirmary. Medical staff assumed authority once the reliquary was removed.” A fractional pause. “He expressed extreme dissatisfaction. Approximately fifty percent of the duty staff have been reassigned.”
Eileen shuddered.
“It wasn’t their fault,” she said quietly. “If I were more… reliable….” Her eyes shifted toward Alice. “Can the vision be trusted?”
“Indeterminate,” Alice replied. “The reliquary has been transferred to the research division for structural analysis.” Another pause. “When your irises shifted to gold, your facial micro-expressions deviated from baseline.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “We conducted multiple ECGs and a cerebral MRI. There is no current evidence of external cognitive interference. However, until the analysis of the full panel is completed you will be suspended from high-level operations.”
Eileen nodded.
“Rest is mandatory, Sentinel,” the doctor said, before stepping away.
Silence returned, broken only by the monitors as she fell into a deep sleep.
She awoke the next morning to a blade of light cutting through the curtains and chirping birds. Her chest still raw with pain. She dragged herself upright and sat in silence, waiting for her body and thoughts to align.
Alice was gone. In her place, one of the leather combat outfits lay neatly folded on the bed.
“Good morning Sentinel, may you be kept in the light of God”. Saluted a Nurse
“And may you be granted His warmth” Eileen replied
“You may wish to wash and change. The High-Priestess has requested your presence”
Eileen frowned, this was rarely good news.
“Her attendants will come for you in an hour”
Eileen nodded in acknowledgement, as the nurse walked away.
She pushed herself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathing roo. The shower hissed to life, steam folding around her as warm water spilled over her aching body. The heat and the steady rhythm grounded her, letting her claw back a fragile trace of humanity.
At last, alone, she could face the vision. Her thoughts drifted immediately to him.
“Sister, why could you not save me? I screamed for you, again and again. And yet I died alone.” “God have mercy…”
“Jonah…” she whispered, tears burning her eyes.
His voice looped endlessly in her mind. Her fist slammed against the porcelain wall. How could his awakening have gone so wrong?
Her breathing grew harder as her throat tightened. She couldn’t have been there. No one could. The memory of that day dragged her back. The passing celebration, all waiting to welcome the new Choosens. Her, desperate to see her little brother again after ten years since her own awakening. Faces passed, and more faces, and more so. Still nothing and her excitement slowly turned into dread.
Then someone approached.
“I am sorry… God has His reasons.”
Keep your reasons! The anger burned itself out, leaving only exhaustion. Steam thinned and reality crept back in.
As she dried herself, her gaze caught the mirror leaning against the far wall. She paused. Her fingers brushed the tender place on her chest where the yellow-eyed had struck her. Nothing.
She started to turn away when a glimpse of gold caught her eyes. For a single heartbeat, threads shimmered beneath her flesh. In an instant her pulse thundered in her ears. She stood perfectly still, every muscle locked as she strained her senses to their limit.
Seconds stretched. The silence was broken only by birdsong outside and the steady ticking of a clock. Each second longer than the last. Somewhere beyond the door, muted footsteps passed.
She forced herself to exhale. A trick of the mind. It had to be. Her gaze dropped to her ring: still pure white. Then, a flicker. For a single instant, in her mind’s eye, it blazed completely gold before going back white again. A shiver shook her spine. Gold was not a good color.
She shook her head. Pain stabbed behind her eyes. Muttering a curse, she dressed quickly and prepared for her meeting with the Head of her Order.
As they escorted her to the antechamber she was welcomed by the heavy baroque display. The splendor of the Church elite’s quarters no longer impressed her. If anything, it felt colder than she remembered. Every surface gleamed with white marble and silver. Massive crystal chandeliers shattered the light into multicolored shards, while the shadows between them were carefully shaped into scenes from the Holy Book.
She kept pacing. Sitting was impossible. Her body felt overcharged, restless energy snapping through her nerves, forcing small involuntary jerks. Her thoughts remained hazy, still tangled in the aftermath of the memorial.
The echo of heels came from the corridor to her right. A tall elderly woman emerged, advancing with calm and dignity. She seemed almost too gentle: draped in white, soft curls of pale gray hair brushing her chin, round silver spectacles framing watchful eyes.
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“Sentinel Eileen, may you be kept in the light of God.”
The woman inclined her head in greeting. Eileen returned the salute.
For a moment, the elder studied her, priestess and warrior standing in stark contrast. Her gaze lingered on Eileen’s frame before she offered a polite, insincere smile and gestured toward a large door of cloudy glass.
Eileen followed. Her unease deepened as the woman passed through the doorway. The apparent fragility and benevolence of the High Priestess only sharpened her suspicions. Sweat beaded at her brow. Her fingers brushed the grip of an imaginary gun.
She entered the chamber and bowed again briefly.
“Your Grace.”
The woman had already seated herself in a cushioned armchair at the center of the room. She was not alone. The Director of the Health Department sat beside her, with a third chair conspicuously empty.
Eileen approached and sat opposite to them. The oppressive whiteness of the room, walls, furniture, garments, was blinding, almost suffocating which was made worse by the complete absence of windows.
“We have summoned you today” the High Priestess began, “to discuss yesterday’s events and the results of your subsequent health examination.”
Eileen nodded slowly, uncertain where this was leading.
“First, we reviewed the events of the Annual Ceremony.”
Her body tensed.
“All data indicate that your vision was authentic. You bear no responsibility for the extremity of this year’s prophecy.”
The priestess paused. Both officials fixed their gaze on Eileen in silence. She remained perfectly still, brow tightening slightly.
Am I supposed to respond something?
After another moment, the Director spoke.
“Regarding your condition, you were informed that your convulsions and loss of consciousness were caused by an unexpected allergic reaction.”
“That is correct.”
“Further tests were conducted to assess your…” He hesitated, stroking his chin. “Exceptional longevity. Cerebral imaging shows remarkable preservation of your neural tissue. Comparable to that of other Seers only two years into service.”
They watched her closely. Eileen kept a neutral expression. They had been too gentle so far. Far too gentle.
“Guess I got lucky in the genetics department” she deflected
“That is the strangest part,” he replied, his voice deepening. “You possess no unique or abnormal genetic markers. You are entirely average.”
The weight of the statement hung in the air.
The door behind her opened softly. A wave of incense flooded the room. Eileen resisted the urge to turn.
“Thank you for joining us, Sentinel Elior, may you be kept in the light of God.”
“And may you be granted His warmth, Your Grace” replied a young voice.
Elior? An Angel barely in his first year. What was he doing here?
He approached with a half-run, half-skip, eyes alight with unnatural excitement. He seized Eileen’s hands and shook them enthusiastically.
“Oh, Sister, it’s such an honor! I was so disappointed when I heard you left the convent to live among civilians. You’re such an inspiration. What does it feel like to grow old and wait for decay?”
She wrenched her hands free and mirrored his smile, sharp and false.
“I’m sorry to have let you down, Brother. May the Lord care for you as He cares for me.”
A hysterical laugh echoed deep within her mind. Eileen jaw’s clenched.
“Your Brother is here to assist with one final test,” the High Priestess interjected calmly.
“What do you mean?”
“We must confirm that your holy integrity remains intact. Sentinel Elior possesses a unique gift. The ability to examine the inner core of others.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. What if he saw the golden traces? Her tremor returned, stronger than before.
He sat beside her and took her hands again.
His pale blue irises faded, leaving only a flat, uniform gray. The world dimmed. Sound receded first, as if wrapped in a thick cloth. Scents blurred, then vanished. The weight of her own body became distant. Somewhere deep at the base of her skull, a pressure began to form; small at first, almost dismissible.
He leaned closer, Too close.
Their foreheads hovered an inch apart. She could feel his warmth, the shallow rhythm of his breathing. The pressure swelled, digging deeper in her skull. It spread slow and gentle, seeping through her thoughts. Images surfaced, not memories exactly, but impressions: the color of a childhood wall, the echo of a voice she could not place, the sensation of running barefoot on stone. They drifted past her awareness like ripples across dark water, never settling long enough to grasp.
A sudden scream erupted without warning, raw and piercing, tearing through the silence, only to be swallowed an instant later, as if it had never existed. The pressure surged in response, now brutally assaulting her mind.
She gasped. Wet streaks slid down his face. She saw it distantly, as if through glass: red pooling at the corners of his eyes, hears and nose, spilling over, tracing slow paths along his cheeks and chin. The harder the pressure drove inward, the faster the red came. At the same time, the mental images shattered in fragments colliding and dissolving into incoherent flashes.
Their foreheads touched.
The sudden coolness of his skin snapped her partially free, just long enough for pain to detonate through her entire being.
His face had become a mask, unnaturally pale above the brows, streaked with crimson below. The flesh around his eyes twisted, pulling into shapes that did not belong to any human expression, as though something beneath the skin strained and pressed outward.
Another presence surfaced as well.
A third face brushed against hers, cheek to cheek. Almost intimate and comforting in a way that made her stomach twist. Her vision slipped sideways, reality thinning like wet parchment.
Amused golden eyes met her own. The Yellow-Eyed regarded her with lazy interest. She stopped breathing, as if even that might alert the others.
“Poor kid,” his voice murmured, threaded through her softly like silk. “He can’t find me. And he won’t last long…”
The pressure broke. Her awareness snapped back into place with a jolt. She blinked, breathing again, and the world reassembled itself around her.
The youth sagged away from her at last. The force inside her skull ebbed in reluctant stages, leaving behind a faint ache. He leaned back, robes soaked dark and heavy with blood across his chest.
Yet his expression had not changed. His eyes remained fixed. His smile remained perfect.
“She is clean,” he stated. “No trace of taint.”
“The Church acknowledges your service” the High Priestess said.
Eileen snapped her gaze between the three figures.
“Your Grace, Director, he’s bleeding from using his gift. That’s not normal.”
“You needn’t worry, Sister,” Elior quipped. “Some of us are simply called to serve” He paused “briefly.”
He rose, and took place on the third seat.
“Well,” said the priestess, “since everything is in order, you may return to active service. However, your duties will be lightened.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“It is,” she said smoothly. “Enjoy the privilege of being the doyen of your kind. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
She stared at them again. Should she mention IT? She was not clean at all… but… could she really speak? Could she explain? And then… what? What would be the consequences? How could Elior even miss yellow glare?
“Sentinel” a voice called in the distance, “Sentinel” Eileen came back to herself as a hand reached her arm.
“Please accept my apologies. I have nothing to say.” Eileen whispered
“Be well, Sentinel” the Director added, gesturing toward the door.
She rose slowly, bowed deeply, and departed.
Outside, she moved quickly until she reached her personal room as Elior twisted features came back to her mind.
These yellow eyes… How come they didn’t notice?
Only Silence replied. For now, she was alone.
