i know the way follow me blindly, said the silent whisper in the dark
In their quiet village, nestled between the river hills and the forested cliffs, the High Priest held more power than the Chief himself. And William, only child of High Priest Luca, had been raised knowing that power would one day be his.
Until his tenth birthday, that belief was never questioned. The villagers whispered about his future in reverence. It was not arrogance on William's part law and tradition dictated that when the High Priest passed, his title would pass to his firstborn. The role wasn't just a family legacy it was divine mandate. To defy it was treason of the highest order, punishable by the execution of the entire bloodline.
So it came as a devastating shock when, on the morning of his tenth birthday, the very day he was supposed to begin his training as apprentice priest his father took him not to the temple, but to the stables.
The moment they arrived, the air grew taut. Stable masters and shepherds, hardened by years of labor, paused mid-step, their expressions flickering with confusion and fear. The High Priest had never visited these grounds before, and the sight of his son beside him only deepened the mystery.
Then the bell rang.
All at once, the stable hands and shepherds fell to their knees in unison, their voices echoing with tradition:
"We humbly greet the High Priest."
They did not bow to William. Until he was formally named an apprentice, he was still a child in their eyes no more, no less.
"Rise," Luca said with his signature warmth. Though he held the highest rank, he remained beloved by all. He could silence the Chief with a single glance, yet still helped old widows draw water from the well. This was a man who led with grace but today, his grace bore a dagger.
"I seek the Head Shepherd of Lucky's stables," Luca said gently. "I would like to leave my boy under his guidance for the next fifteen years."
William's world stilled. The words struck like a hammer, and he felt the heat of betrayal rise like bile. His fists clenched, his chest tightened. He wanted to scream at his father, demand an explanation, but fear of dishonour, of the sacred laws, sealed his lips shut.
The gathered men shifted uneasily until one stepped forward, an older man with a leathered face and kind, skeptical eyes.
"Surely you jest, High Priest," said Head Shepherd Mike. "Isn't the boy to inherit your robes tomorrow?"
Luca chuckled, light and easy. "Don't you worry about that, Mike. These old bones still have life in them. More than yours, I'd wager." His tone was playful, but his eyes flickered with something colder, deeper.
Mike's expression sobered. "Anything for you, High Priest," he said, lowering his gaze. He and Luca had been boys together once, but not even old friendships could shield one from the eyes of the village.
And just like that, it was done.
William's legs gave out. He dropped to his knees, not in reverence, but despair.
"Father... why?" he cried. "Why?"
But Luca turned away, folding his hands in prayer, and walked out without a word.
No one saw the torment burning in his eyes.
How could he tell his son the truth? That Heaven had chosen him for a vacant seat among the divine? That the visions had come in dreams, thick with dread and fire, demanding obedience?
He had tried to resist. He had begged for time. But refusal meant the death of not only his family, but of the entire village. Worse still, none of the slain would pass on to Heaven. Their souls would be trapped, cursed to haunt the site of their deaths for a thousand years before being extinguished entirely.
And the one who defied the will of Heaven? He would be reborn. Again and again, with every memory intact, each death, each cry, each sorrow, burned into him.
Luca had no choice. The price of rebellion was too steep. He was a High Priest, yes, but that only meant he had been chosen for his sensitivity, his compassion. Heaven's cruel wisdom ensured its most obedient servants were the ones least able to bear disobedience.
That night, Luca knelt alone in his chamber, fists clenched, voice torn by grief.
"Why?" he whispered to the stars.
Why his son?
Why now?
Why without a chance to say goodbye?
Back in the stables, time moved like thick honey. William sat in silence inside the shepherd's shack, fists clenched, face wet with bitter tears. After what felt like an eternity, Mike spoke.
"Boy, I won't pretend to know what your father's thinking. But if you're to learn the way of the shepherds, you must first be baptized into our order. The heavens must know you. Until then, I can't teach you anything that touches on the sacred. It's not just law, it's protection."
He paused, weighing the child's spirit.
"You'll need a new name. One Heaven will recognize."
William raised his head slowly, eyes hard, jaw clenched. His voice came out flat, bitter.
"I have no use for that man's name. If he refuses to give me what is mine, then I refuse to carry what is his."
He wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve and stood with a strength unnatural for a child.
"William Juda is no more. From this day forward, I am Simon Oshier."
Mike blinked, stunned. It was a name born of fury and loss, but it held power. The kind of power that shapes men too young into legends too soon.
So began the exile of the heir.
So was born the shepherd no one had prayed for, and the storm that would one day follow him