Requiem of the Pathways

JUNE 17, 1992

The chapel was quiet.

Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colors across the wooden pews. The air carried the familiar scent of incense, melted wax, and aged parchment.

Adam sat across from Father Abel, whose weathered hands traced over his rosary beads. His expression was calm, but his gaze was unwavering.

"You had a vision last night, didn't you?"

Adam's fingers tensed against the edge of the pew.

He had not spoken of it. He had barely acknowledged it himself.

"...I think so, Father."

Abel exhaled, thumb pressing against the wooden cross of his rosary. "I have watched you for years, Adam. Your faith is stronger than most. You do not waver."

He leaned forward slightly.

"The Church believes you have potential."

Adam's grip on his trousers tightened.

"The Church?"

Abel nodded. "They have noticed you, your discipline, your intelligence, your certainty in God's will." His voice carried no celebration, only finality.

"They will come for you today."

Adam let the words settle, but his thoughts did not.

He had always known that he would eventually leave the orphanage. The older boys left for training once they were ready, and never returned.

Now, it was his turn.

He should have been proud. He had spent years preparing for this.

Instead, he sat there, hands curled into his lap, unsure what he was supposed to feel.

***

A few hours later, Adam stood at the entrance of the orphanage, his bag slung over one shoulder.

The black car idled before him, its polished surface reflecting the gray sky. It was a vehicle that did not belong in a place like this.

Father Abel stood beside him. "You will do well, Adam."

Adam nodded. He had no doubts about that.

He stepped into the car with one last glance at the stone steps and wooden doors.

The engine hummed as the vehicle rolled forward. Through the window, the orphanage grew smaller until it was nothing but a memory left behind on a quiet street.

The ride was silent.

The exorcist driving did not speak, and Adam did not feel the need to start a conversation.

The town passed by in glimpses—vendors setting up their stalls, townsfolk moving about their morning routines. The scent of bread baking drifted through the air. It was a familiar sight, but it felt distant now.

Soon, the streets gave way to open land. Stone buildings turned to rolling fields. The roads became smoother, the homes more prominent, the signs of wealth more obvious.

Then, rising above the hills, the Cathedral of St. Augustus came into view.

Its black stone towers reached toward the sky, standing against the landscape like something carved from another era. This was not like Father Abel's church.

This place did not exist to serve the people. It existed to prepare warriors.

Adam's hands had loosened from his lap when the car passed through the iron gates.

***

The chamber was cold, its walls built from stone older than any of the recruits standing inside it. The Sanctified Crystal rested at the center, pulsing faintly beneath the dim candlelight.

Ten recruits stood in line. Some fidgeted, others remained still, their expressions ranging from uneasy to determined.

Father Gregor stood before them, his gaze sharp as he looked over the candidates. He had seen thousands of them over the years. Most were unremarkable, faithful but ordinary.

Only a few ever stood out.

He raised a scroll. "Step forward and place your hand upon the crystal when I call your name."

He scanned the list before calling the first.

"Daniel Martinez. Age thirteen."

A broad-shouldered boy stepped forward, his posture loose. His dark hair was unkempt, and his uniform looked as if he had thrown it on without much care.

Gregor recognized the type immediately. Boys from the lower chapels, ones raised in churches that barely had enough funding to stay open. They either came as devoted believers or because they had nowhere else to go.

This one had not come for faith.

Daniel had the build of someone used to labor, likely put to work from a young age. He looked at the crystal without hesitation, grinning slightly as he passed one of the other recruits.

Daniel pressed his palm to the crystal.

A weak flicker of light appeared. Not absent, but barely present.

He withdrew his hand, rolling his shoulders like the result did not bother him.

Gregor marked his result on the scroll before calling the next name.

"Samuel Gavril. Age fourteen."

A tall boy stepped forward, his back straight. His uniform was spotless, his hair neatly slicked back, though a few strands had fallen loose from the humidity.

Gregor narrowed his eyes slightly. He had read the boy's background.

A child of the exorcist families who had fled the East after the Soviet Union's collapse. The Gavrils had been dedicated warriors once. Those who remained in Russia had either been killed or lost to the supernatural threats that surged in the power vacuum.

The boy had been sent here to carry on the family name.

Samuel pressed his hand against the crystal.

A flicker of light. Stronger than the last but still lacking.

His expression did not change as he stepped back into line.

Gregor noted his result and continued.

"Leovanni Pucci. Age twelve."

A sigh, quiet but intentional.

Gregor did not need to look up to know which recruit it had come from.

The boy moved away from the group stepped forward, golden hair carefully styled reaching shoulder length, his blue eyes glancing at the other recruits as if they were beneath him.

Gregor had seen noble families send their sons before. Most were not here out of devotion but for status. The Church held power, and where power gathered, so did ambition.

Pucci moved with the ease of someone who had never been told no.

He placed his hand on the crystal.

Nothing.

The crystal remained dark.

Gregor did not react, but he saw Pucci's smirk stiffen for half a second before he withdrew his hand and stepped back.

The test continued.

One by one, recruits placed their hands on the crystal. Some caused it to flicker, and some received no reaction at all.

None had displayed true compatibility.

Then Gregor called the final name.

"Adam Morgenstern. Age ten."

A boy with golden eyes stepped forward.

Gregor had been told of this one—the orphan who had been sent here under unusual circumstances. The reports had been vague, but they spoke of intelligence, faith, and something else.

The Church had taken notice of him.

The boy pressed his hand to the crystal.

A moment of silence.

Then, light erupted.

Golden-white radiance flooded the chamber. Shadows stretched across the walls. Several priests had to shield their eyes.

The other recruits flinched.

Gregor exhaled, gripping his pen slightly tighter than before.

"Exceptional compatibility," he murmured. "We will observe him closely."

As the glow faded, Adam withdrew his hand.

The silence in the chamber lasted longer than it should have.

Gregor closed the scroll.

The Church had found something rare today.

***

There had been no adjustment period.

From the moment they arrived, training had been relentless.

Mornings started before sunrise. The recruits ran through the cathedral halls, their footsteps echoing against the stone floors. Physical conditioning continued until their bodies ached. When they were not training, they were in study halls, memorizing scripture, languages, and exorcism rites.

Adam had learned quickly that failure was not tolerated.

Neither was weakness.

Some of the recruits struggled, but the instructors did not care. If they could not keep up, they would fall behind.

Adam had managed to keep pace, but his training was harsher than the others.

When the others finished their drills, he was told to do more. When they collapsed, gasping for breath, he was expected to continue. The instructors did not praise him for his Holy Factor. They demanded more.

Leo, of course, was the first to notice.

Adam had just finished another round of conditioning when he heard that voice.

"Still going?" Leo called out from the shade of the courtyard archway, arms crossed, his golden hair not looking disheveled despite the heat and intense training. His uniform had not a single wrinkle, and somehow, he looked bored.

Adam exhaled, hands on his knees. He could still feel the stone tiles burning through his training boots.

Leo tapped a finger against his chin, his smirk widening. "I'm starting to think you like suffering, Morgenstern. Or maybe the instructors just really don't like you."

Adam ignored him and stood upright.

Daniel, who had finished before him, laughed from where he sat on the steps. "It's 'cause he's special," he teased, stretching his arms behind his head. "Chosen one treatment and all."

Leo hummed in fake thoughtfulness. "Mmm. Maybe. Or maybe they just want to break him early."

Samuel, who had been watching quietly, glanced at Adam. He did not add to the teasing, but something in his expression suggested he had noticed it, too.

Adam shook out his arms and rolled his shoulders. "If you have enough energy to talk, Pucci, maybe you should run with me next time."

Leo gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me? Doing extra work? Absolutely not."

Daniel smirked. "I'd pay to see that."

"Then you'd be wasting money," Leo shot back smoothly. He let his gaze flicker toward Adam again, still smirking. "I mean, what's the point? No matter how much I run, they won't keep me here longer than necessary. Unlike you."

Adam met his gaze but said nothing.

Leo tilted his head slightly. "Really, though. Why do they push you harder than the rest of us?"

Samuel watched from the sidelines, but his silence meant he was listening.

Daniel, of course, was already bored of the conversation and was digging through his bag for a piece of bread.

Adam shrugged. "Because I can handle it."

Leo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, you're funny. You never actually answer the questions I ask."

He did not press further, but the look in his eyes told Adam that he was not done investigating.

Adam exhaled, letting the conversation drop. He still had training left to do.

***

By the sixth month, they were given weapons.

The recruits were introduced to Light Swords, firearms modified to fire holy rounds, and blessed relics used for purification and exorcism.

Adam had never held a sword before. But he learned quickly.

For sparring, he was paired with Daniel.

The match began.

Daniel lunged first, his swing fast and heavy. Adam ducked just in time. Too slow, he thought. Blocking was out of the question, or he'd lose in a contest of strength.

Daniel came again, another wide arc. Predictable. Adam sidestepped, guiding the strike past him. Daniel overextended, stumbling forward.

A perfect opening. Adam struck a sharp jab to the ribs.

Daniel grunted, teeth clenched. He retaliated faster this time. Adam barely dropped beneath the blow, rolling out of reach.

A rhythm emerged. Daniel powered through with brute force while Adam danced around him, striking with precision. But Daniel wasn't as tiring as Adam had hoped. Worse—he was adapting.

Then, Adam miscalculated.

He moved to dodge, just as Daniel had expected. The strike came early, sudden, crushing. Adam's training sword flew from his hands, clattering across the floor.

The match was over.

Father Gregor gave a single nod. "Good, but not strong enough."

Adam wiped the sweat from his brow.

Daniel smirked, rubbing his ribs. "You fight weird. Should've just gone for the head."

Adam shrugged. "Almost worked."

"Almost doesn't count," Daniel shot back, still grinning.

A quiet chuckle broke the lingering tension.

Leo stood nearby, arms crossed. His uniform, as usual, was spotless.

"Not bad," he mused, tapping his chin. "I expected you to fold before the first 30 seconds."

Daniel scoffed. "See? Even the fancy boy agrees."

Leo ignored him, tilting his head at Adam. "The way he moved was off."

Adam blinked. "What?"

Leo's lips curled into a knowing smile. "The way you fight. You think first. That's rare."

Adam hesitated. "...Fighting is just thinking, but faster."

Leo laughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Daniel groaned. "Great. He's got a fan."

Leo ignored him, stepping past Adam with an amused glance. "I hope we get paired up sometime. I want to see how fast you really are."

Adam rolled his shoulder, still feeling the pain of Daniel's last hit. His body hurt, but not as much as his pride. His limbs still felt heavy from exertion.

Then, a new voice cut through the fading tension.

"Here."

Samuel stood a few steps away, Adam's training sword in hand. He had picked it up, without a word, while the others were talking, and now he extended it back to him, gripping the blade rather than the handle, offering it.

Adam halfheartedly stood up, before taking it. Samuel held firm for a second longer, as if making sure Adam felt the weight of his grip. Then, he let go. 

"Have you ever fought a bear before?" Samuel said, his voice thick in his Russian accent.

The question caught Adam completely unprepared. At the same time, his fingers curled around the wood handle of the sword.

Adam blinked "What?"

"When you truly fight, the winner is not the faster thinker, it is the one who gives into their instincts more than the other," Samuel added, stepping back.

Adam opened his mouth, ready to ask what that meant, but before he could Samuel pivoted on his heel and walked away. No further explanation, refusing to elaborate. Just Gone.

Leo stared after him "... Did he just—?"

"Yeah," Adam muttered. He glanced at Daniel, who looked equally lost. 

Daniel huffed "That guy's weird."

Leo, still watching where Samuel had left to, just shook his head amused. " I kind of respect it."

***

That night, Adam knelt in the chapel, hands clasped over an old, worn Bible.

The chapel was empty, save for the soft flicker of candlelight. The only sound was his own breathing.

Only silence.

Adam exhaled, his gaze drifting to the crucifix above the altar.

"Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" John 20:29.

The verse surfaced in his mind, unbidden. Words he had read a hundred times before.

He closed his eyes at that moment.