They walked through the inner cloisters of the castle, beneath tall archways where golden light poured through stained glass.
A few nobles bowed low as they passed. Neil didn't acknowledge them, he was rude to the bone, he couldn't care about anyone's royal ass.
Verna kept pace beside him, his tone smooth but just a bit too polished. "This wing of the castle was gifted to the Church two centuries ago during the War of the Iron Bell. The Crown saw fit to house Saints where they'd be safe, close, and easily called upon."
"So I'm a tool they want nearby..." Neil said, voice light. "How flattering."
"Saints are revered, not used. My lord.. " Verna replied, with just enough pause to betray the lie. "The castle offers holy ground, peace and privacy. This section has been untouched by war, rebellion, even plague. It's the safest place for one chosen by the divine."
Neil hummed, unimpressed. "I see..."
Verna smiled thinly. "Which is why the purification ritual is essential. It's not just for appearances, it stabilizes your spirit. Unlocks your affinity. Saints are vessels. Without the rite, your power could harm you… or others."
Neil didn't answer. So Verna kept talking, thinking he could talk him into it.
"There are records of Saints burning through their own bodies without proper sanctification. One summoned light and went blind. Another healed so rapidly his skin stopped aging. We must awaken your gifts—safely."
Neil stopped walking.
Verna halted a step ahead, turning back.
"Neilos Alexandrou."
Verna blinked. "Pardon?"
"That's my full name," Neil said, voice calm but unblinking. "But if you prefer calling other names. Your choice.."
Verna's hands twitched at his sides. "My lord, I meant no disrespec—"
"Don't say it again."
Verna flinched. "Say what Lord Neil?"
Neil's voice, while still smooth, carried a crack of steel. "Don't mention the ritual. Not to me. Not around me."
The younger priests had gone pale. One swallowed audibly. The castellan remained still, but his hand had moved subtly closer to the hilt at his belt.
Verna closed his eyes. Inhaled slowly. Then exhaled. "Very well. We will not speak of it. But… at the very least, my lord, you must learn to access your gifts. Your spirit is holy, but dormant. Without it, you are—"
"A very pretty man with no job?" Neil offered.
Verna didn't take the bait. "—ineffective. You cannot serve your role without it."
There was a long silence.
Then Neil turned slightly, his expression unreadable. "You said I was unconscious for six days."
"Yes."
"And before that?"
"You collapsed after the rite—"
"What rite?"Neil asked, he guessed what that boy had told him was true.
The church might just be his very enemy.
"Well after one saint dies, a ritual to placed to summon the new one.."
Neil didn't say anything, it was a reasonable ritual.
"I shall only participate in the ability awakening ritual. But if I find out, you carry out some other kind of ritual without my knowledge. I will wreck havoc on your and your church.."
Verna paled, but he bowed his head slightly, his mouth twitching with restraint. "Understood, my lord."
Neil said nothing, already resuming his steps.
They walked in heavy silence, deeper into the ancient sanctum of the castle. The golden light from above gave way to the soft flicker of braziers, the air thick with the scent of incense and old stone.
This was no ordinary hall. The architecture shifted subtly, more curved, older, older than the palace itself. Smooth steps led down, down again, until they arrived at an arched stone door carved with sigils of warding and divine light.
Verna raised a hand. "We've arrived."
The castellan stepped forward, ready to follow, but Verna turned to him. "This next part is sacred. Even you must remain outside, Carlos.."
The castellan's jaw clenched. He looked at Neil, as if seeking confirmation, but Neil didn't even glance at him. His indifference was a blade of its own.
With a slight bow, the castellan stepped back and took his place beside the silent guards at the door.
A priest in white opened the carved door from within.
Warm light poured out as Neil entered.
The air changed the moment he stepped inside.
The antechamber behind him was dark. But this room? It bloomed with light.
It wasn't just the torches that lined the walls or the chandelier above, glinting with softly glowing crystals. The space itself radiated, warm and golden, as if the air shimmered with unseen threads of power.
Symbols etched into the marble floor pulsed faintly beneath his feet, and on a raised platform ahead, a basin of water gleamed silver-blue under the light.
Neil's eyes narrowed slightly. "This is it?"
Verna stepped in beside him, his voice quieter now, reverent. "The Sanctum of Reflection. Only saints are permitted here… and those chosen to guide them."
Neil didn't say anything, so far he was loving this new life.
The priest waiting near the basin bowed deeply. "We are honored to assist in the awakening, my lord. All is prepared."
Verna gestured toward a stone altar beside the basin. Upon it sat a ceremonial dagger, thin, elegant, inlaid with glowing script and a folded piece of white cloth for binding.
Neil moved forward, the hem of his robes whispering over the floor. He stopped before the basin and stared at his reflection in the water.
A pretty face that was nothing like the rugged one he had in his past life.
He picked up the dagger.
"Cut your palm, and let your blood mix with the water.." the priest instructed gently. "Then place your hand within and speak the invocation. Your gift will rise to meet you."
Neil raised a brow. "You say it like it's waiting to kiss me."
No one laughed.
He sighed a little. Tough crowd.
Then, without flinching, he dragged the blade across his palm. The cut welled crimson almost instantly, it was sharp and clean. Blood dripped down into the silver water with soft ripples.
He placed his hand in.
The moment his skin touched the surface, the water glowed, no, reacted. Light burst outward from the center, veins of gold lacing through the basin and spreading across the floor in fine, glowing lines.
Symbols awakened around him, spinning slowly in the air.
"Repeat after me.." the priest whispered.