Harry was quiet, but Rav was bright.
The stone did not belong to him.
People first noticed that about him. In corridors made of gray rock and regulated by measured voices, Rav moved with a kind of easy warmth that felt almost like rebellion. It was easy for him to chuckle. His smile seemed to come out of nowhere. The way he walked—quick, balanced, and sure of himself—showed that he was a youngster who wouldn't let chilly walls define him.
The Church of Radiant Mercy aimed to make all the kids the same. Rav fought against that without even trying.
The morning started like any other: bells rang before dawn, the air in the dormitory was foggy, and the boys' wooden cots creaked as they put on their stiff boots. Harry was already awake when Rav rolled over and blinked at the ceiling.
"Another wonderful day under holy stone," Rav said in a dramatic voice.
Harry looked at him. "You're happy for someone who doesn't like mornings."
Rav pushed himself up and remarked, "I don't hate mornings." "I hate the cold."
"You complain about the cold every day."
"And yet it never listens."
Harry was close to smiling.
Rav slid his legs off the cot and stood up, reaching for the ceiling with his arms. He was a year older than Harry and a little bit taller. No matter how many times he tried to tame his chestnut hair, it wouldn't stay flat. His brown eyes were so bright that even Brother Halven thought twice before punishing him too harshly.
Rav looked at people in a way that made them feel like he expected the best from them. It made some of the clergy uneasy. As the sun rose and shone through the stained glass in the chapel, Rav sang the prayer out loud. Not loudly enough to get in trouble, but with real conviction. He didn't recite robotically. He believed in the idea of kindness, but not always in the men who preached it.
Harry kept an eye on him out of the corner of his eye.
Rav bowed all the way down, while others bowed stiffly. Rav talked clearly, whereas others stammered. It wasn't being naive. It was a decision.
Rav playfully poked Harry in the elbow as the kids walked into the refectory after prayer.
He said, "You should smile more often."
"Why?"
"Because it makes people less suspicious."
Harry raised one eyebrow. "Do you think they don't trust me?"
Rav thought for a moment, then shrugged. "You see too much."
It wasn't an accusation. It was a thought.
Rav worked steadily and with purpose in the yard later that morning, where he was supposed to fix a broken fence along the outer garden. He hammered in nails, tightened rope ties, and hummed to himself as he worked.
A smaller youngster nearby was having a hard time holding a plank stable. His hands were shaking. Rav saw it right away.
"Here," he said, putting down his hammer. "Let me."
He moved the board around with ease and showed the child how to hold it. "Don't fight it. Don't move the timber. "You're making it happen."
The child nodded, but he was worried.
Rav's voice got softer. "You'll get it." Everyone does.
Harry watched from a distance of a few steps.
This was Rav's gentle way of saying no. Not loud. Not aggressive. But it kept going. He wouldn't let dread take hold of other people. Rav stood up when Brother Halven came up to him, but he didn't lose his relaxed posture.
Halven said, "Good job."
Rav tilted his head. "Thanks, Brother."
Harry saw that Halven's eyes were getting a little smaller. People didn't often praise Rav, and when they did, they were careful. A boy could get ideas if you encourage him too much.
After they finished the assignment, the kids were sent home for their afternoon instruction. Rav walked next to Harry with his hands behind his back.
"Do you ever think about going?" Rav suddenly asked.
Harry didn't look at him. "How do you leave?"
"Climbing the wall." Running and looking for another place.
Harry's steps got a little slower. "And where are you going?"
"Not here."
"That's not a plan."
"It's a direction."
Harry thought about the difference.
"Do you think they'd come after us?"
Rav's tone had changed; it was lighter, but not careless.
"Yes," Harry responded.
Rav was quiet for a while.
Rav had a hard time with math in school, but was really good at history. He could easily remember stories about battles, saints, and old monarchs. He said names and dates with astonishing accuracy.
"Saint Armand led the northern crusade in the Year of Ash," Rav answered with confidence when asked.
"And what was the point of it?" Sister Arlena wanted to know.
"To get back what was lost."
Harry saw the small strain in Rav's jaw when he uttered it.
Get back what you lost.
The term stayed in the air. The kids were allowed to take a little break in the yard after class, when the sun was setting in the afternoon. Some people fought on the dirt. Some people grouped in small groups to share rumors.
Rav leaned against the wall next to Harry.
He gently remarked, "Do you think the people who leave are happy?"
Harry saw a carriage coming down the road, far away from the gate. "I don't know."
"They never come back."
"That doesn't mean they aren't."
Rav gave him a stern glance. "You don't really believe that."
Harry didn't say anything.
Rav let out a long breath. "I looked at the ledger yesterday."
Harry turned all the way to him. "You went into the room with the records?"
"I was cleaning."
"And?"
"There were marks next to some names." Not the normal ones.
Harry felt his chest stiffen. "What kinds of marks?"
"A sign. Like a sun with lines running across it.
Harry put that aside.
Rav looked at him. "You already knew something was wrong."
"I thought so."
"And you didn't tell me."
Harry's voice stayed calm. "You don't do a good job of hiding your thoughts."
Rav's smile faded slightly. "Maybe I don't want to."
The bell rang, signaling that it was time to do their evening chores. Rav slowed down near the chapel doors as they moved back to the main hall.
"Promise me something," he urged.
Harry gave him a look.
"If things ever go truly awful, you won't just stand there and think. You will move.
Harry grimaced a little. "How do I move?"
"Do."
The word hung in the air between them. Harry got what Rav was saying.
He nodded once.
"I will."
Harry stayed awake that night in the dormitory, listening to the faint sound of the wind scraping against the walls of the tower long after the whispering stopped and the breathing slowed down.
Rav moved in his sleep across the aisle. Harry moved his head a little to look at the shape of his companion in the dark. Rav didn't have a shield of quiet. He faced the world with an open mind, believing that honesty could change it. That goodness would spread if people did it enough.
Harry thought that was cool. He was scared of it, too. Being transparent in the Church of Radiant Mercy didn't always pay off. The cold did not bend to get heated. But Rav kept smiling. The ice on the courtyard stones was heavier the next morning. Rav playfully pushed Harry as they waited in line to pray.
"You look like you're frowning again."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Rav smiled widely, on purpose. "Look? Like this.
Harry shook his head, but the corner of his mouth went up anyhow.
From the altar, High Priest Malrec watched. For a little moment, he looked at the two boys—Rav's relaxed stance and Harry's tense immobility.
The prayer started then.
"Radiant Father," Malrec said, "give us obedience and thanks."
Rav bowed deeply.
Harry bowed a little less.
The kids got up when the bells stopped ringing. It was the start of another day. And amid the frigid stone hallways of Radiant Mercy, Rav carried warmth like a quiet revolt. He didn't know that the world he trusted would soon test that open smile in ways that neither of them understood yet.