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"Blessed are the poor in spirit, who beg from the heart,

For the kingdom of heaven is given unto them."

(Matthew 5:3-12)

Eighteen years later, after the Second Moon War

The church is such a strange place.

People here express their deep reverence for a superior, an invisible someone who loves everyone equally.

It's absurd.

"Please, listen to us!" people say in chorus.

Candide smiles in disbelief. What an iconic phrase, coined decades ago, a ritual that continues to this day. If he makes something up, will people use it in the same way, for decades?

They should figure out what it should be. It certainly won't have anything to do with the church and the worship of God.

Candide stands in the front pew, used to taking his place at the edge of the front row. He arrives just in time, before people start to gather, just to take his throne. Here he always has a view of the Virgin Mary, whose statue is right in front of him. She holds a cross necklace in her hand, weeping. Is this meant to depict the scene when Jesus was nailed to the cross? Or is this when the foetus was conceived? It doesn't look like a tear of joy, so it's probably the former event that was created on her face. 

The boy is in a black ensemble, his coat touching the ground. He keeps glancing behind him, but sees Hagen nowhere. At this time of day he's already at mass, and now he's twenty minutes late. They said they'd go to the market after mass and buy themselves some apples and bananas. They need the strength to exercise. Candide is not yet very good at using the water element, but he has improved a lot lately.

"Turn around," whispers Vasily, who is standing next to him.

Vasily comes from a Russian aristocratic family. His parents are rich, confidants of the Queen. Of course, he has to introduce himself to the Queen in case they get into financial difficulties.

Candide chuckles softly to himself. He shrugs. He looks confidently ahead, brushes his blond hair back, glances up at Vasily with brown eyes. A tall boy. He has freckles, a scoliosis that prevents him from standing up straight, a thin but handsome face. He'd be like Candide if he wasn't such a rule-following snob.

"You know, just because he raised me doesn't mean he has to be mad at me, I don't have to kneel on rice because I laugh my way to his church. He's not my dad or anything," he growls. Vasily smiles. Candide looks at him, puzzled. What's with the arrogant smile?

"I forgot, you'll never know what it's like to have a father."

Candide's eyes are aflame with anger. He swings his hand involuntarily, without thinking, and the bitter-tasting liquid of the mass wine rises from the golden glass, Father Armand and the people watch in surprise as the alcohol hits Vasily directly in the face, and he fights back, trying to get the drops off. Candide grabs Vasily's collar, pulls him closer.

"Next time I'll drown you in water, damn you!" - he whispers in Vassili's ear. With his thumb, he licks a tiny drop of water from the older man's face and licks it off. This is a bitter wine indeed.

"Candide!" - Father Armand appears before him, but he just walks out from the pew, bends down, makes the sign of the cross, and walks out of the church with a casual walk. He hears the whispering of the people behind him, and the father's panting. "Stop!"

Useless.

***

Candide sits on the bench in front of the church

Candide is sitting on the bench in front of the church. Father Armand looks at the boy with his hands on his hips. The mass is over, the father has changed. Always the same bored look, the sentences that Candide shakes out of his little finger. The father shakes his head. He walks to the right, to the left.

The church garden is beautiful, a long flight of steps leads up to the entrance of the gate, lined with tuya trees, not a blade of grass disturbing the house of God. Candide would be enjoying the sunshine if the Father were not watching him so vigorously. 

"You refused to go to school. Then at least don't miss out on farming. I haven't been seen at the farm for three days."

"Why should I go? For the five rekecs I get? I can't even make a fried banana with that," he sighs. "If I'm bothering you so much, just tell me, I'll wait until I get at least a hundred zidents and move out."

"Candide, it's not that simple," Father Armand massages his forehead. He's sixty-five years old, but he's still holding his own. Candide is sometimes amazed at what this old man can do, whether it's tilling the garden or cleaning the church.

"Why?"

The father ponders a little, then sits down next to Candide. He crosses his fingers in front of him.

"Because I made a vow to your mother. You know I've told you many times. I have to take care of you," he whispers.

"I'll grow up one day. One day you will die. You won't be here for me from then on,' he shrugs. "Or are you afraid of the ninth commandment?"

"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour?"

"Yes."

"You surprised me," smiles the priest. "I see my teachings have not been wasted."

"Don't worry, Mum and Dad must be happy you brought me up, but we'll have to part after a while, and don't think of it as a sin. You've made no false promises. You look reassuringly at the priest." He always looks old and wounded.

"I want you to build a future for yourself. A stable future. One that will keep you from being alone."

"Don't worry. I'm a big boy now." he smiles faintly.

"So what was that about Vasily? Was it a grown-up thing?"

Candide chuckles to himself. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"He took my father in his mouth. I did not tolerate it. I may not have known him, but I have a respect for him, I won't let his name be flogged."

"Next time, try to control yourself. You know his parents are civilians, they can report you anytime, and there's nothing I can do, you're an adult."

"I see."

"Candide!" Hagen's pleasant voice rushes through the garden. He stands in front of the church entrance with his hands in his pockets. - Let's go!

" 'Take care, my boy" Father Armand pats the boy on the back.

"Yes, I will."

As he watches the boy leave, he smiles. His personality is his mother's, but the strong bond he has with his parents is his father's. How much they would have loved this boy. Charlotte and Reagan would have been proud of this rebellious but loving son.

 Charlotte and Reagan would have been proud of this rebellious but loving son

***

Hagen and Candide met in the fields. It all started with an irrigation. Candide, still unsure of how to control the water, accidentally misdirected the nutrients in the barrels, causing them to drip straight onto Hagen's clothes. The man, of course, was furious. He can be quite a stiff on the suit, so he challenged Candide to a duel. Naturally, Hagen won. And since then they've done everything together, Candide has learned a lot from him, things that Father Armand could never pass on to him. Water control and Timberland gossip.

"Tomorrow is the Moon Festival," Hagen takes a bite of his apple. They are sitting in a tree, in pleasant shade. The sun is already setting.

"I've never been there before."

"I know, they only let adults in, but children could be there too. There is a huge fairground where everything costs five rekkes, so they can buy a lot of things there. And at midnight, everyone gathers and celebrates the moon god," Hagen puts his two hands together with his eyes closed, imitating the people of tomorrow night.

"Who is that?" Candide looks at the boy. "The god of the moon?"

"Legend has it that he was a werewolf" He nudges Candide's shoulder in amusement. "Now think about it, a werewolf! He must have been ugly."

They laugh at each other. The withered leaf falls off with its stalk at the same time.

"Come on, don't push me! Go on!"

"Oh, right, sorry about that" he coughs and throws the apple core away. "On the twenty-eighth of May, he howled at midnight, then fell off the cliff. An old lady found him and prayed that he wouldn't die." He takes up a prayer pose again. "He was awakened by the power of prayer" - he sings like the cantor in church. Candide shakes his head. "Then, the werewolf promised that after his death, people could come up the hill on the twenty-eighth of May and ask him for anything. Riches, all kinds of things. On that day you have to go up to the Great Hill and pray for anything. The harder you focus on prayer, the more the Moon God understands that you need this very much, but if you don't focus enough, he won't give you anything," he shrugs. Candide can see that he doesn't really believe that.

"Has anyone ever achieved anything?"

"One or two people have, but there have been years when no one has. I think they're losing faith" he chuckles to himself. "But it's a good thing I never believed in anything, I'm sure it would have hurt me a lot. I ask God for something and nothing."

"Interesting that my spirit animal is the Wolf".

"Oh, right, you get the Wolf. Why didn't fate choose something else for you? Give me some wealth, please," Hagen wishes, to which Candide rolls her eyes. "You're not like that, Candide."

Candide never understood how Hagen could analyse things so differently. He's much different than people, he's much more mature and relaxed in his thinking. He doesn't get hung up on anything. That's what keeps him alive.

He's handsome, he's tall, he's got a muscular build, he's quite popular. He wears elegant clothes, sees a barber every two weeks and is extremely charismatic. He's jealous. That he has such a good life.

"Shall we practice? Or shall we go home?" yawns Hagen, with his hand on the back of his head.

"Today I managed to hit Vasily's pretty little face like a bull's-eye. He got the wine right in the face."

Hagen blinks at Candide's proud expression. Then he laughs. He can laugh out loud. Lively.

"Bravo! You're something, Candide."

"I only did it to make you say that, not because it made you mad and all that" he scratches the back of his head, painting the narrow cheeks of his blushing brush red.

"I'm proud. You're improving. Then I won't train you today."

"But, hey... I didn't say that..." Hagen puts his arm around him.

"Kid, when we first met, you didn't know the first thing about the texture, shape and handling of water. Do you know how many times I've been terrified to myself not to roll it that way, why you're doing all that bending and stuff. You've improved."

There is a joy in Candide's body that comes with dancing. He likes Hagen's words. He's proud of himself, proud that he's accomplished something.

"Soon you will also have to learn how to manage water when there is no pond or anything to help you. That means you have to get the water out of yourself. It will be a long process, but I am confident that you will succeed."

"Of course it will. I have a good teacher."

Hagen smiles. Candide is sure Hagen's compliment is a foregone conclusion, hundreds of girls follow him around, date him. But he's only recently starting to feel important to someone. Hagen's presence gives him that.

"Let's go. It's getting late. You need to rest. Tomorrow, on the day of the festival, we won't even stop. We have to pack, remember?"

"I can't wait" whispers Candide, exhausted. Hagen's laughter made his heart pound again.

***

Candide had often felt that Father Armand didn't really like

Candide often felt that Father Armand didn't really love her. At least, not attached to him. Sure, he's not his child, but Candide is going through a period in his life where he's beginning to discover what he's capable of, what he's good at, what he's really good at. Because of Hagen. He's the only person she knows besides Father Armand. The one he really knows. Vassili and the people... They're just in his life somehow. He says hello to them, talks to them sometimes, but he doesn't feel the strong bond he has with Father and Hagen.

True, there is someone else he knows. 

With these thoughts, he returns home.

He walks through the door.

He looks surprised at Eldar, sitting at the dining table. He just had to mention it.

The man's face is lit only by two candles, making him resemble a beast confined to a cage. He looks huge for a tiny dining room.

"What do you want?"

Eldar takes a sip of the mint tea Father Armand has brewed. He's from the service, wearing his Armed Forces cloak. He looks tired. The scar on his eye now accentuates the man's wounds.

"I thought I'd remind you to pack tomorrow. You take Building B."

"I know" Candide interjects.

Eldar sighs loudly. He glares at Candide with folded arms. He's just like his father. He thinks to himself.

"How long have you been away from the farm? Father says you don't visit much."

"I don't feel like it" he shrugs. "I'm busy with other things."

"Stealing?" Eldar looks up.

"If you've come to accuse me, there's no need." Candide grumbles wearily, taking off his cloak and hanging it on a nail on the doorjamb.

"Candide, I've been told three times today, you stole two apples and a banana. Why are you doing this? Does the job look dirty to you? Go to school!"

"I'm not in the mood."

"What do you want?" Eldar raises his voice. Candide stands at the doorstep with her lips pressed into a line. "To a debauched lifestyle?"

"That's all I have left. I can't work the land, and I'm no good at arithmetic, so what can I do?"

"Reagan would be very angry with you right now, you know that?"

"Leave my father out of this" Candide growls. He clenches his fists. The ground cracks beneath him. Eldar shakes his head.

"You're out of control. Try to control your emotions. Vasily didn't come to me in vain when you splashed him."

"He deserved it," he mutters, looking at the ground, the crack he made. Unable to control his ability, it's still hard for him. He's young. He'll get the hang of it. "Besides, I don't need any of your good uncle upbringing. You were never there for me, so why are you playing this game?" He's pouting. "I'm bored".

"Candide!" Eldar calls out, but the boy just climbs up the ladder, straight to his room.

"Did I spoil it?" the father steps out of the corridor. "I feel like I didn't do enough, that's why he's like that."

"You don't have to do anything. It wasn't your responsibility, it was mine." whispers Eldar, looking at the cracks in the floor.

Reagan always told him family comes first. And he never believed him.

Candide has washed and made his bed, yet he doesn't feel refreshed

Candide has washed, made her bed, but she doesn't feel refreshed. He wonders what he did to deserve this. Such a fate? And yet he longs for the arrogance that emanates from Vassili, or the pride that lives in Hagen. He got none of it. He feels lost in the world. He has no idea what would be right. He can't work the land, he's too stupid to learn, he can't even control his ability, he's always giving someone else a problem. 

He feels lost in the labyrinth he himself has entered.

Where is the exit?

"Damn!"

He groans as he feels the nagging headache. It's been coming ever since she turned eighteen. Every single night when the moon rises. Like a leech eating his brain cells, he feels dizzy. He can barely stand on his feet, he makes it to his bed, but he falls on it like he's been shot. He faints.

***

The Queen is sitting in her office

The Queen is sitting in her office. She's rubbing the cream on the back of her hand from a woman called Ann. It's supposed to help prevent ageing and dryness. She sits by the candle flame, reading a book she started only last night. She looks forward to a pleasant day, she thinks as she thinks about tomorrow. She likes being seen as Queen, applauded, acknowledged. It makes her happy.

She looks up in surprise when she hears a crow cawing. On the window sill is a very ugly black crow. With a leaf on its back. The Queen is baffled. The letters are delivered only by Archie, the postman's pigeon. Not a crow. And not at midnight. She rises from her desk, her sandals accompanying her slender gait with a loud thump. He takes the yellowed letter from the crow. It must have come from far away. The animal flies away with a great croak.

The Queen opens the leaf.

But, when she gets to the end of the line, she cries out.