Book 1, Verse 39

I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. The sun was slowly getting closer to the horizon.

What John didn’t understand, what Vivian didn’t understand, was that the ‘meaning’ that came with religion and this God wasn’t really meaning.

I’d heard all the sermons.

I’d read the book.

I’d spent hours debating with John about the topic.

All God did was use people, like some kind of reluctant puppet master. He was ‘too holy’ to come down and do things himself, so he had to make do by forcing people to do what he said; he made a whole church to do what he needed to be done.

If given the choice between meaningless freedom and purposeful slavery, I’d choose the freedom every time.

Something stirred next to me.

I tilted my head to look at Vivian’s face directly.

How could I have done this to her?

I’d given her a taste of ‘meaning,’ but then she latched onto it, and I chastised her for doing so. I shook my head and felt a choking feeling in my chest.

“I’m sorry.” I looked at her closed eyes and pained expression. “I should have been honest. I never should have mentioned God. I shouldn’t have said I was a priest. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for believing what you thought would help.”

She didn’t respond; all she did was keep breathing slowly.

The grass rustled and I sat up quickly.

The old man was walking towards the path while holding a big wooden egg crate. I noticed him struggling with it, so I got up and helped him carry it until he set it down next to Vivian.

As soon as it was on the ground, he knelt down and began looking through its contents. There were a few rolls of bandages, a green glass bottle filled with liquid, and various bundles of plants that I couldn’t recognize. They seemed like the sort of stuff alchemists would use.

I looked down the path towards where I’d come from, hoping to catch a glimpse of Elisa and Niels.

I didn’t see anything other than the path.

“You seem worried, and not just about Ms. Vivian. What’s on your mind?” Albert asked me as he pulled a small poultice out of the crate and began mashing some of the plants in it.

A sigh escaped my lips as I turned to look at him. He was crouched down next to Vivian.

“I… I left two of my companions with the monster that attacked us.” I looked down the road again.

The old man’s rabbit ears twitched.

“Well that doesn’t sound good. Are they strong fighters?”

His voice sounded genuinely concerned for people that he’d never met. I tilted my head at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know what makes someone a strong fighter. One’s been training to become a wizard and the other’s a decent alchemist.” I sat down on the ground next to Vivian, facing Albert. “Maybe they won’t have any problems.”

“Hmm.” Albert looked at me, concerned. “Why don’t you pray for them? You are a priest, right?”

I looked at him, and frowned softly.

“I already have.” I said that despite knowing that my prayer for their safety was half-hearted at best.

“Was it a good prayer?” Albert said nonchalantly as he took a bit of the liquid from the green bottle and poured it into the poultice. It was a thick and chalky grey liquid that mixed into the green mush of the plants.

“It’ll do.” I remembered how my previous prayers seemed to have almost magical powers; then I remembered that sometimes they didn’t seem to work at all. “I hope. I did the best I could.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re the one who makes the prayer come true.” Albert commented as he kept mashing the liquid until it started to thicken.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I just wish there was a way for me to know if and when my prayers are going to get answered the way I need them to be answered.” I purposefully avoided answering his question.

Albert’s ears perked up, but his facial expression didn’t change.

“Priests used to talk like that all the time, before the church pact came around.” He shook his head and motioned for me to look away as he moved towards Vivian with the paste. I did as he indicated and he kept talking.

“What do you mean?” I said as I looked out over the green rolling hills in the light of the slowly setting sun.

I heard him click his tongue.

“People used to say that priests had the ability to pray for things to come true.” Albert said calmly. “The old records the church has in its possession even confirm it to be true in some cases.”

The old man’s voice weakened.

“I wish I could have seen it. I can almost see the priest praying for food for his congregation, and God blessing them with bread. It’s almost like I’m sitting there in the pews, catching a loaf for myself.”

I heard an indication that I could turn around again. When I did, Albert was smiling with moist eyes.

“What happened?” I asked a little too quickly.

Albert shook his head slowly as he started putting away the medicinal supplies he’d used on Vivian’s bruise.

“People thought that the priests were the ones making the prayers come true.” He said with a knowing grin. “And that’s what ruined them.”

“What? How did that change anything?”

Albert packed everything into the crate and set it aside as he talked with me.

“Because prayer became something priests did, and it stopped being something God did.” He said morosely. “People forgot that it was never how hard you prayed that made it come true, or how much you wanted it to come true, or how much it would help if it came true; it was always dependent on God making it come true.”

So it was essentially gambling; some loving God, letting his puppets call out for aid and then refusing to give them any.

“If that was the case, why bother praying?”

Albert’s eyes went wide as I said that.

“If it’s not guaranteed to fix anything, why pray? It’s like gambling; hoping that this time you’ll hit it big with God answering your prayer.”

Albert tilted his head.

“Hmm.” He sighed. “It didn’t start out as praying to get something, you know. People used to pray because they loved talking to God. Sometimes, God decided to physically bless them with the answer to their prayers after they asked. But there’s no verse or statement anywhere in the holy writ that says God has to answer your prayers.”

I shifted uncomfortably on the dirt of the path.

“Then everyone started expecting things to come from their prayers; they started saying that ‘unless you prayed’ God wouldn’t do anything.” Albert chuckled. “Then it was like magic; it was as if God became your own personal servant. Of course, not everyone treated it like that, but some did.”

The gears clicked in my head before I spoke out loud.

“And so when people thought that they controlled it, that’s when the wizards stepped in and said that it wasn’t ‘divine power;’ it was just the church hiding magic from everyone else, even though that wasn’t the case!”

The old man nodded grimly.

“You’re a sharp one, Shinko.”

I smiled proudly.

“So if prayer isn’t dependent on you, why don’t you tell God how you feel about your friends? Ask him for help, even if there’s no guarantee you’ll get it the way you want to.” He looked up at the darkening sky and the myriad stars that were appearing.

I looked up with him.

It was like seeing a red curtain being pulled back to reveal a stage with diamonds as the lights.

He spoke up again, softly.

“Because even if there’s no guarantee that he’ll help you, he’ll hear you.” Albert stood up and stretched. “And, if I remember correctly, the holy writ says that the prayers of the saints are like incense to God.”

Saints.

I looked at my hands in the dimming sunlight and brightening moonlight.

I was no saint by the standards of the holy writ.

Why had God decided to answer my prayers? Why not Albert’s? Why John’s? Why had he chosen to answer mine?

“Oh look. Someone’s coming towards us.” Albert said with a smile.

My head darted to look down the path.

I saw them.

Elisa and Niels; battered and bloodied, limping along slowly, but alive.

“Help them get over here, would you Shinko? I’ll start making more of my salve for them.” Albert got the poultice out again.

I couldn’t speak; I could barely think.

But the part of me that still could think was racing, and it was telling me to do one thing.

I ran towards Elisa and Niels as fast as I could, illuminated by starlight.