The bells rang before the sun rose. Their sound didn't ring; it seeped into the building's bones. It was a low, iron vibration that went through stone hallways and small dorms, wooden bedframes, and thin wool blankets, until even sleep gave up. The Church of Radiant Mercy loomed high above the village. Its towers were pale against the darkening darkness, and its stained-glass windows were still dark. It appeared holy from far away. Strong. Safe.
It was freezing inside.
The boys' dorm was in the eastern wing, where the walls held the night air longer than anywhere else. There were rows of thin cots in the room, each with a little wooden box underneath and a folded gray blanket at the foot. There were no personal items on show, like sketches or scraps of recollection pinned to the walls. The Church liked its kids to be plain. The same. Can be replaced.
Harry Goodwin opened his eyes when the bell rang for the third time.
He didn't stretch. He didn't moan like the rest of them. He just lay there for a bit, looking up at the cracked ceiling and listening to the boys getting out of bed. The air hurt his cheeks and fingertips. In the dim Light, his breath fogged up a little.
Rav was already sitting up straight across from him, using one hand to push back his messy chestnut hair. Rav always acted like he had slept well, even when he hadn't, even in the winter.
Rav muttered, "You're awake," and then looked at Harry with a grin that seemed out of place in the dark. "I thought I would have to pull you up today."
Harry slowly got up. "You wouldn't."
Rav sprang up and pulled on his boots. "I would," he said. "You'd complain, but you'd still thank me later."
Harry didn't say anything. He moved his cover to the side and swung his legs over the cot's edge. The stone floor hurt his bare feet. He reached under the bed for his boots and slowly, carefully laced them up.
The other males around them were moving in different levels of tiredness. Some people rubbed their eyes. Some people just looked ahead with blank expressions. Some of them mumbled short prayers they had learned by heart before they could read well.
The fourth bell rang. The door at the end of the dormitory creaked open, and Brother Halven walked in. Even though it was early in the morning, his robes were spotless. They were white with delicate gold thread around the edges. A silver pendant of the Radiant Sigil hung on his neck.
"On your feet," he ordered in a calm voice, even though most of the boys were already standing. "The Light does not wait for those who are lazy."
Harry stood with everyone else.
They made two lines and left the dormitory, their footsteps reverberating off the stone. The hallways were small and had high ceilings that curved like the inside of a ribcage. The flames of the oil lamps flickered along the walls, but they were faint against the dark that was still there.
Harry remained looking straight ahead.
Over time, he had learned that staring too carefully may get you noticed. And attention in the Church was seldom a gift.
The procession went down a spiral staircase that wrapped around the inside of the tower. The stone railing was smooth from years of people holding on to it when they went down to pray in the morning. The tunnel opened up into the main chapel at the bottom.
The Church showed off its splendor here. The tall pillars rose to a vaulted ceiling adorned with depictions of saints in golden Light. Angels with glowing wings and hands outstretched in benediction were shown in stained glass. Even in low Light, the altar at the far end glowed softly. Polished marble caught the first gray Light of dawn through thin windows.
Later in the morning, the people of the town would come and bow in front of these arches in awe. At the moment, only kids and priests were in the space.
The boys sat in pews on the right side. Sister Arlena watched over the girls as they took their seats across the aisle.
Harry let himself look once.
Yvanna was near the front of the girls' row, and her silver hair was falling loose over her shoulders. It caught and reflected gently, like moonlight on water, even in the dull Light of the chapel. She held her hands tightly together, her face calm yet distant.
For a split second, their eyes met.
She gave the tiniest of nods.
Harry turned his head away.
The last of the whispering stopped when High Priest Malrec walked inside the chapel through the side door. He walked slowly and confidently, with his hands folded in his sleeves and a kind smile on his face. When he spoke, his voice came through clearly without effort.
"Children," he said, "the Light watches over those who are faithful."
The prayer began.
The voices rose together, faint yet practiced. Harry said the words as he was told to. Years ago, he had learned them by heart. He understood exactly when to bow his head and when to look up at the painted sky above.
He didn't feel anything while he talked. To him, faith had become a habit instead of a source of consolation. As the prayer went on, he lost interest—not in the outside world, but in himself. He made a list of the chapel's features, as he did routinely, noting how Brother Halven's hand rested too hard on a boy's shoulder as he walked by, how some kids sat closer to the front on other mornings. How Malrec's eyes carefully surveyed the rows instead of looking at them with love.
Harry had seen trends.
Patterns were significant.
The bells stopped.
After the last word of prayer, there was silence. Malrec got from the altar and gently walked between the pews.
He replied softly, "Some of you will have the chance to serve today."
A murmur went through the kids.
Help.
The word hung in the air with a false sense of warmth.
Harry's face stayed neutral.
Malrec halted just short of the front row. He looked at a younger youngster for a moment. The boy was slender, had dark locks, and looked worried. The priest grinned.
He said, "You." "And you."
Two boys stood up slowly.
"You will go with Brother Halven after breakfast."
The kids who were chosen nodded, attempting to look proud.
Harry could feel Rav move next to him.
He could tell what Rav was thinking. They all knew.
Service required going outside the Church. Sometimes it meant coming back weeks later with better clothes and more food. It didn't always mean coming back.
Nobody talked about it freely. After the prayer, the kids were sent home in neat lines. They walked to the refectory for breakfast, which consisted of thin porridge and hard bread, served in big iron pots. Harry and Rav sat down in their normal spots along the wall.
"You think they are lucky?" Rav spoke, then nodded toward the chosen boys.
Harry ripped off a slice of bread and dipped it into the porridge. "I don't know."
Rav frowned a little. "They say that nobles pay good workers well."
"They say a lot."
For a bit, Rav looked at him but didn't ask any more questions.
Yvanna sat with the other girls across the room, her back straight and her eyes on her bowl. Sister Arlena stood behind them with her hands together.
Harry made himself eat gently.
To look normal.
Even here, the cold got through the stone. It was in the air, the walls, and the floors. The Church was proud of its strictness. People thought that warmth, like comfort, was a luxury. After breakfast, the chosen boys were taken away through the side hallway.
Harry saw the door close behind them. There was a tightness in his chest, but it wasn't terror yet. Something sharper. A query formed without words. The bells rang again, signaling it was time to start morning work. Harry got up from the bench with the rest of them.
As he walked along the line to the work courtyard, he looked back at the chapel's tall walls and the stained-glass angels that were now lit up by the first Light of morning. Soon, the Church of Radiant Mercy would shine with gold and color from the exterior. Its windows would be full of painted saints and holy fire.
The stone stayed chilly on the inside. And in that chill, something quiet and attentive was starting to wake up in a ten-year-old child who had begun to grasp that the Light did not beam equally on everyone.
Not here. Not in these hallways.