A golden chime echoed through the underground temple as Little Light stepped out of the last trial circle. The High Priestess raised her staff, and the sound of a thousand soft bells filled the air.
"Priest of the Broken Soul," she intoned, "for passing the Seven Stages of Emotion, we grant you the Blessing of the Celestial Radiance."
From the temple's dome, light particles began to drift down. Seven hues—crimson, azure, emerald, gold, indigo, silver, and violet—danced in the air like soft snow. They glowed brighter as they approached him, before fusing together and spiraling gently around his body.
They didn't burn. They didn't empower. They simply existed—serene, formless, glowing particles that floated like thoughts unspoken.
The High Priestess bowed. "They hold no known power. Perhaps… a sign from the heavens."
Little Light said nothing. But later, as he returned to his quarters before departing, he summoned the holy furnace he kept hidden in his robes. It was no larger than a child's urn, marked with healing runes and threads of soul-binding formation. He opened the lid and guided the seven-colored light inside.
It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
"I don't know what you are," he whispered. "But I feel you'll be needed."
---
When he returned to the quiet path near his church, night had begun to fall. As he stepped into the courtyard, he froze.
Lan stood at the gate, his face pale, tears trailing down his cheeks. As soon as he saw Little Light, he ran forward and threw himself into his arms.
"Teacher!"
The young priest stumbled back from the force of the hug, then smiled and patted the boy's back gently.
"I told you I'd return before the stars changed."
Lan nodded against his chest. "But… but what if they changed while I wasn't looking…"
Little Light sighed softly and led him inside, promising him extra bread and honeywater for dinner.
---
The next morning, the sky was gray and clouded. A gentle knock came on the church door.
When Little Light opened it, he saw an old woman, stooped over, leaning heavily on a carved walking stick.
"Priest Light," she said, her voice rough like bark. "I came… to see how you returned."
He immediately stepped forward and supported her arm. "You shouldn't have walked alone, Madam Rui. Let me help."
With great care, he guided her to the bench near the altar. He poured her warm tea and sat beside her.
"I wanted to speak about Lan," she said, eyes creased with emotion. "That boy... He waited at the window every evening. Never asked for sweets, never wandered off. Just waited. He always believed you'd return."
Little Light said nothing for a long time.
"...He still believes," the old woman said. "That there's good in the world."
They spoke a little longer, watching the sun slowly rise from the horizon. As its rays crept through the windows, Madam Rui leaned on her stick and rose.
"I'll visit again tomorrow," she said with a weak smile. "I promised Lan I would."
---
That night, the weather turned sour.
Gales howled around the church walls, windows banging open and shut. The flames of the lanterns flickered wildly, and Little Light moved through the hall, latching windows closed one by one.
As he neared the back of the church, he paused.
Through a narrow window, he saw a figure.
Sitting silently beneath the large tree in the backyard, back turned, unmoving.
The area behind the church was old and overgrown. He had never explored it fully, but now something called to him.
Grabbing an oil lantern, he stepped into the cold wind and walked around to the rear.
There, dimly lit by moonlight and swaying branches, were seven moss-covered tombstones, arranged in a crescent.
And the figure sat among them.
As he approached, the figure slowly turned its head.
"Little Light," the voice murmured.
It was deep, quiet, and strangely familiar.
His breath caught in his throat. "...Little Death?"
The figure smiled faintly. "Or something that remains of him. A spirit? A memory? Maybe just a shadow."
Little Light stepped closer, confusion and warmth mingling in his heart. "You… Why are you here?"
Little Death looked up at the night sky. "To remind you. That what we see is not always what it is. And sometimes, what we don't see appears when we least expect."
Little Light blinked. "You mean… like an illusion?"
"Perhaps. Or a truth shaped like one."
He didn't fully understand. But something about the cryptic words lodged deep in his mind.
Little Death stood slowly, his dark robes fluttering like torn pages in the wind. He stepped forward, reached out, and gently placed a hand on Little Light's chest.
Little Light winced as he felt a deep tug—like light being peeled from his soul.
From his holy furnace, tucked inside his robes, the seven-colored glow emerged, swirling up into the air.
Little Death's eyes glinted.
"You stored it well. But it was not meant to remain separate."
He held the glow between his palms, and it began to compress, colors merging and twisting until they formed two radiant orbs—two glowing eyeballs, filled with the seven hues.
"One is enough for you," Little Death said. "Too much will only harm you. The second… you may give away."
Little Light looked down. "Should I offer it to one of our brothers?"
Little Death's smile faded to something softer. "None of them are ready. Not yet. Only Little Water… has begun to feel mortal emotions. He walks among men. His soul can hold this."
Little Light nodded. "Then I'll send it to him."
Little Death looked at the nearby church, then turned and… hugged him.
It was not cold.
Not painful.
Just quiet.
"Be kind to him," Little Death whispered. "And be kinder to yourself."
Then, without sound, he faded into the wind.
Little Light stood alone.
He turned slowly—only to see Lan peeking from the church window, eyes wide and full of questions.
---
Later, by the soft glow of the hearth, Little Light poured warm water into a cup and handed it to Lan.
"You were watching."
Lan looked down, ashamed. "I didn't mean to…"
Little Light sat beside him and ruffled his hair. "Listen closely, Lan."
The boy blinked.
"There are things in this world that defy form. Spirits, memories, regrets... Sometimes they return, not to haunt us, but to guide us."
Lan nodded slowly.
"But more than anything, you must understand this: light isn't just what shines. It's what heals. It's what forgives. And it's what we choose to become when no one is watching."
The boy bit his lip. "So… that man wasn't scary?"
"He was once scary to many," Little Light said honestly. "But tonight, he was simply a reminder. That the path we walk is long. And sometimes… we carry others with us."
Lan leaned against him and mumbled, "I wanna carry people too."
"You will," Little Light whispered. "But first, you must grow strong—not in power, but in patience, kindness, and truth."
They sat together in silence.
Outside, the wind had calmed. The moon shone over the seven tombstones like soft silver prayers.
--[To Be Continued]--