Orphanage of faith

Chapter 1 : orphanage of faith

Darkness stretched endlessly, vast and silent. It was neither cold nor warm—it simply existed, swallowing time and space like a void without end.

Then, through the emptiness, she appeared.

A girl bathed in silver light, her form both vivid and blurred, as if reality itself couldn't decide whether she belonged. Her presence stirred something deep within him, an emotion clawing at the edges of his mind. He knew her—he was certain of it. And yet…

His throat tightened. "Why… why can't I remember you?"

She smiled, but it was fragile, cracked at the edges. Her eyes, filled with sorrow, shimmered like distant stars. "Maybe it's still not time," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of something he couldn't grasp.

The ache in his chest deepened. There was something unfinished between them, something important. His hands clenched. "wait... Are you dead?"

She shook her head gently, a ghost of laughter in her voice. "I'm not dead, dummy," she said, warmth barely masking the sadness beneath. "You can still find me. We still have our promise."

A promise. The memory lingered, faint and elusive, just out of reach.

Before he could say anything, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her warmth was real—achingly real. The moment her touch sank into him, something inside cracked.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred. Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them.

"Please, Sybris…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Find me, my love."

The words clung to him, weaving themselves into his soul. He opened his mouth to speak, to hold onto this moment, to hold onto her—

Yet the dream shattered.

A sharp gasp tore through him as he bolted upright, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. The dream—or, the memory—felt too real, as if it had reached through time to remind him of a time long forgotten. His eyes darted around, recognizing every detail of the room: the rusting ceiling, the cracked walls, the broken window letting in faint traces of morning light. It was the orphanage. Home. And yet… something felt off.

He turned his head toward the mirror beside his bed. In its reflection, he saw the remnants of tears in his eyes—not fresh, but ancient, as if they had been shed for decades. Sybris. That name. Someone had called him that before. Someone precious.

The door swung open with a loud creak, and a dark-haired boy burst into the room, striking an exaggerated pose. "The majesty has arrived! Bow before me in respect!" he proclaimed, his voice filled with over-the-top dramatics. Striking another pose, he put a hand over his mouth in mock surprise. "Ohh, look at you, Sylas, tearing up at my mere presence! Now that's how to show respect!"

Sylas, still sitting on the bed, gave him a deadpan look. "Kael, leave. Now. Or I'll personally throw your corpse outside."

Kael clutched his chest as if wounded. "You wound me, Sylas. Truly."

---

Later, in the hallway, Sylas balanced a stack of laundry while Kael strolled beside him, hands behind his head.

"Do you ever do your own laundry?" Sylas asked, shifting the weight in his arms.

Kael grinned smugly. "Bro, I'm too important for chores."

Sylas looked up thoughtfully. "Huh. I guess that means you won't be having breakfast, then."

Kael's face twisted in horror. "Nooo! I will be having breakfast!"

Sylas smirked, quickening his pace. "But you're too important, remember?"

Kael gasped dramatically. "I take it back! I'm not that important!"

"Then do your chores."

Kael groaned. "Fine. But what should I do?"

Sylas shot him a pointed look. "Clean that godforsaken room of yours. Then… maybe think about cleaning anything else."

---

After finishing their chores, one of the nuns approached Sylas. "Sylas, can you help us serve the food? The head nun mercy isn't feeling well today."

Sylas nodded, and Kael followed.

In the cafeteria, Sylas handed out soup while Kael distributed bread. Each child took their food with gratitude.

"Thanks, Brother Sylas."

"Thanks, Kael."

"Thanks, Sylas! Can I get more soup?"

"No."

"But it's only soup—"

"No."

"Thanks, Kael, you're the best!"

Kael smirked. "I already know."

Then, the last person in line stepped forward—a girl with dazzling golden hair. Kael's face turned red in an instant. He leaned toward Sylas, whispering, "Sylas, I think I'm in love."

Sylas, intrigued, followed Kael's gaze. He raised an eyebrow. "Good choice. But do you have the balls to talk to her?"

Kael scoffed. "Of course! Just watch and learn."

Biting his lower lip, he took a deep breath and, with all the confidence in the world, declared, "My love, are you a rogue? For you have stolen my heart, and I fear I may never recover without your help."

The girl giggled, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. Kael turned to Sylas, expecting praise, but instead saw the nuns covering their faces, shaking with barely restrained laughter.

Kael leaned in and whispered, "Why are they laughing? Was it cool? Or was it embarrassing?"

Sylas whispered back, "I honestly don't know. But it worked. Now give her the bread. She's been waiting."

"Oh. Right. Totally forgot."

---

After finishing their duties, a nun handed Sylas a bowl of food and gestured for him to sit. Scanning the room, he found two open seats. He sat down, while Kael plopped down across from them.

As they ate, a sudden crash caught Sylas's attention. A younger boy had dropped his soup, his expression filled with dismay.

Kael reacted first. "Oof. Tough luck." Without hesitation, he slid his bowl to the boy. "Here, take it. I'm not that hungry anyway."

Without a word, Sylas pushed his own bowl toward Kael.

Kael blinked, shocked. "Wait—you know how to be kind?"

Sylas smirked. "Actually, I take it back. I'll eat it."

Kael grabbed the bowl. "No, no, I'll take it!"

As Sylas got up, Kael groaned. "Fine, fine! But now I have to help you with your job today too."

Sylas sighed. "Kael, how many times have you helped me? Thirty? Forty?"

Kael scoffed. "Fifty."

Sylas smirked. "And how many times have I done it alone? "Seventy? no,

eighty."

Kael groaned. "Ugh. Fine. Let me finish eating, then we can talk about the details later."

Sylas made his way to his room, but something felt off. The room was unusually dark, shadows pooling in the corners like ink.

He frowned. It was still day—so why did it feel like midnight? Approaching the window, he peered through the glass and froze.

A figure stood outside, barely visible against the dim light. It was smiling at him, its expression twisting in ways that defied nature. A voice, layered and fractured, seeped into his ears.

"You don't remember, do you? But you have... so many times before."

Sylas's breath hitched. His voice quieter then he wants "Who are you? Leave, or I'll call the head nun."

The figure vanished.

Exhaling sharply, Sylas turned back toward his bed—only to find it standing there. Its grin had stretched impossibly wide, down to its torso. Cold hands lashed out, seizing his throat in a vice grip, lifting him effortlessly.

"Do you think you can escape?" it hissed, voice slithering through his skull. "Even after killing me so many times? When the time comes, I will carve you into a million pieces."

Its fingers tightened. Then, with a sickening twist—

Snap.

Sylas woke with a strangled gasp, lungs burning, heart pounding against his ribs. The room was suddenly filled with soft candlelight. The head nun sat beside his bed, watching him with concern.

"Are you okay, Sylas?"

His eyes darted around, still reeling from the nightmare. "Where am I?"

She gently ruffled his hair. "I saw you collapse in the hallway. What happened?"

Sylas swallowed thickly, the dream still clinging to him. "It's nothing...

Pushing himself up, he left the room, his steps unsteady. As he made his way down the corridor, Kael stopped him.

Are you okay? What happened,

His voice shifted, becoming darker,

you didn't die, so why act like a child,

Sylas tried to focus, but his head spun.

What are you saying kael,

He looked at Kael.

Kael's face twitched. His skin rippled, shifting like something was writhing beneath. His mouth curled into something... wrong.

"I gave you a chance, didn't I?" Kael's voice was familiar yet alien.

Sylas's stomach dropped. Kael's body convulsed, stretching, twisting until he loomed over Sylas, his head grazing the ceiling. A laugh bubbled up in Sylas's throat—wild, broken—before Kael's monstrous hand punched through his chest.

Sylas lurched awake again, gasping, his body drenched in sweat. He scanned the room, the dim glow of evening filtering through the window. Real. It was real this time.

The door creaked open. Kael stepped in, eyeing him curiously.

"When are we leaving? It's gonna get dark soon. We should hurry."

Sylas turned toward the window, gripping the edge of the blanket. A strange chill settled in his bones.

"dark? Didn't I just finish breakfast...?"