The first trial

In the grand hall of the church, Baro finished the last bite of his blessed meat, savoring the divine flavor as he fixed his gaze on the Righteous Priest. The priest's voice boomed with authority, resonating through the chamber.

"No matter what happens," the priest intoned, his piercing eyes scanning the circle of the faithful, "for one hour, you must pray. No matter what you feel, hear, or imagine—keep your eyes shut and pray with unwavering faith. Anyone who falters will have their sacred link severed and be cast out."

The air grew heavy as the priest's words settled. The twenty-four blessed, including Baro, formed a solemn circle around the towering statue of the goddesses, their faces tense with anticipation.

"You may now begin the trial!" the priest declared, his voice echoing like thunder.

The blessed lowered their heads, hands clasped in fervent prayer. Soft glows of light emerged from their chests, flickering like candles in the wind—physical manifestations of their devotion. Baro knelt, absentmindedly stroking his loyal companion, Furfur.

"If this is all I need to do for an hour," he thought, "then this trial will be simple enough."

Ten minutes passed.

The serene atmosphere shattered as a voice cried out in despair.

"No! Please! I didn't mean to! Forgive me!"

One of the blessed screamed, clutching at their chest as the light within them flickered and died. Their link was severed. Without mercy, the temple guards dragged the broken soul out of the church. The Righteous Priest's proclamation echoed after them.

"An outcast."

Thirty minutes passed.

Baro, feeling the pangs of hunger, casually pulled out a snack. Furfur barked in irritation, clearly tired of being petted. Baro frowned, trying to devise a solution to appease his companion.

As he pondered, another anguished scream pierced the air.

"I didn't mean to ignore them! I wanted to help, but… I thought someone else would!"

A young woman's voice rang with guilt, her cries echoing in the hallowed space. Her light extinguished, she too was dragged out and declared an outcast.

Forty-five minutes passed.

Baro smirked as inspiration struck—he would pet Furfur in intervals, changing the location each time to keep the cute wolf entertained. His clever solution earned him a contented bark, but his amusement was short-lived.

A piercing gaze burned into him. Baro looked up to meet the eyes of a blond man. 

Orynn's face was pale, his body trembling from hunger and exhaustion. He swayed where he knelt, his breaths shallow, his mind tormented by the whispers of the dead.

'You let me die, Orynn… How could you?' his mother's voice accused, her image haunting his thoughts.

Orynn clenched his fists, his jaw tight.

'These illusions are meaningless,' he thought. 'No matter how much I suffer, I can only move forward.'

But the voices persisted.

'You'll never ascend, Orynn! Stop chasing this dream!' his sister's voice mocked him.

A wry smile crept across Orynn's face. 'Always complaining. Perhaps that's what I like about her.

The hour came to an end.

As the priest's booming voice announced the conclusion of the trial, only ten of the original twenty-four remained. Their lights burned steady, proof of their unyielding faith.

Baro let out a sigh of relief, rising to his feet. "Well, that was a lot more dramatic than I expected," he muttered, scratching Furfur behind the ears.

Meanwhile, Orynn felt like himself again, the illusion vanished and his resolve to clear all of the trials strengthened.

The priest's sharp gaze swept over the ten remaining blessed, his expression unreadable. His voice, steady and commanding, broke the tense silence.

"Good," he said, nodding with a trace of approval. "This year's batch of blessed shows promise. Perhaps one… maybe two of you will ascend and prove yourselves worthy."

A faint murmur rippled through the group, but the priest silenced it with a single look.

"The second trial will begin shortly," he continued. "Follow me."

The remaining ten—excluding Baro and Orynn—exchanged worried glances as they trailed after the priest. The echoes of their footsteps reverberated through the vast, sacred halls of the grand church. Each step weighed heavy with the knowledge that at least half of them would either perish or have their link severed in the next trial.

They entered a somber, dimly lit chamber. Intricately carved chairs formed a perfect circle in the room's center, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly under the light of a single, flickering chandelier.

"Sit," the priest commanded, his voice pressed against their very souls. "Take your place."

The blessed hesitated briefly before moving to obey, each choosing a chair. The air grew thick with tension as they settled into the seats, the faint creak of wood underscoring their unspoken fears.

The priest stood at the center of the circle, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression dark.

"The second trial," he began, his voice low but powerful, "will test your mind, your will, and the strength of your bond. This is no mere test of endurance; it is a confrontation with the deepest truths of your soul."

A chilling silence followed his words, the weight of the moment sinking into the hearts of the blessed.

Baro frowned, shifting uneasily in his chair. "This isn't going to be as simple as praying, is it?" he muttered under his breath. Furfur growled softly, as if in agreement.

Orynn's gaze remained fixed on the priest, his eyes cold and determined. "I'm ready." he thought, 

The priest raised a hand, and the room's atmosphere seemed to darken.

"Let us begin."