Indenuel followed Martin toward the side of the worship hall. Even the doors looked like works of art, with pictures and symbols carved into them. Tolomon entered first, which Indenuel was getting used to before he walked in.

He was surprised to see four men already there. He thought there would only be three. One of the men was incredibly old, and in a wheelchair. Granted, they were all old, but the one in the chair looked ancient.

“Welcome back, Martin.” One of them stood and walked over, which forced Indenuel to tear his gaze away from the ancient looking one to the… less ancient looking one. “We of course expect a full report of your travels but let’s meet this young man first.”

There was little brown in this man’s hair. He was far older than Martin. Indenuel didn’t want to ask, but he assumed the man before him was at least eighty. He had tea green eyes and was tall and thin. He gave Indenuel a smile as he looked him over.

“Humble beginnings indeed,” the man said. Indenuel glanced at himself. The clothes were new, from the most recent town which was one of the richest he’d ever been in. After a month of solid meals, he couldn’t look that malnourished. Maybe the man saw what Indenuel saw, a poor person simply playing dress up.

The man gave a low bow. “I am High Elder Navir the Tree Talker.”

Indenuel gave a much lower bow, feeling lightheaded. “Indenuel, son of Lucia.”

Navir approached, still studying his face. “If you are the Warrior, your name will change to Indenuel the Warrior, or Warrior Indenuel.”

“I…” He didn’t realize this would happen. “I rather like my mother’s name connected to mine.”

He smiled. “A mother’s love is strong, yes?”

Strong and confusing. It had been two months since her death, and in the past month alone he compiled a long list of questions to ask her next year.

Another man stood but did not come any closer. He was about the same heigh as Martin, his black hair streaked with grey. He looked about the same age as Martin too and gave the barest bow of his head. “I am High Elder Fadrique the Weather Controller.”

“An honor to meet you, High Elder Fadrique. I am Indenuel, son of Lucia.”

There was the smallest smile on Fadrique’s face, and Indenuel got the impression that he did not want to be there. With everyone else cheering right outside, it was concerning to get this reaction from a High Elder.

The last two men came toward him together. Indenuel was so distracted by the old man in the wheelchair that he didn’t notice the other man was pushing it. The man in the chair was far older than a person could live, or so Indenuel thought. The man’s hair was white and thin, and he stared ahead unblinking. He looked dead, except he mumbled something no one seemed to understand. All the other High Elders seemed to ignore it, but the hairs on the back of Indenuel’s neck stood on end.

“I am Dalius, Acting High Elder for Cristoval, Speaker to the Dead,” the man pushing the wheelchair said.

Indenuel tore his gaze away from the old man to look at Dalius. He was the youngest in the room by far, though he would still place him around fifty years old. His dark brown hair had small streaks of gray. “An honor. I am Indenuel, son of Lucia. And… and this must be High Elder Cristoval?” He again forced himself to look at the old man in the chair.

“Yes. My grandfather,” Dalius said. “It worked out that I, too, have his same power. My grandfather is getting old, and incapable of performing many of his duties as High Elder, so I am here to help, and will replace him once his mortal body has been put to rest.”

“Oh.” Indenuel didn’t know how else to react to the information.

Dalius gave Indenuel a smile. “It’s alright, you can ask. He’s a hundred and twelve years old.”

Indenuel let out a breath in shock. “I… didn’t know people can live that long.”

“Most can’t,” Dalius said. “Cristoval has taken care of himself well in life.”

Indenuel again looked down at the withered old man in the chair. He muttered something, his gray-green eyes flitting about as though seeing spirits no one else could. Indenuel tried to rub the goosebumps from his arms.

“Indenuel, son of Lucia,” Navir said again. “You have no known father?”

“No, sir. At least, not that my mother would reveal.”

“How very curious,” Navir said. “And your mother? She gave no indication that she knew who your father was?”

“She kept it a secret, sir. Even from me.”

“And she has passed on?”

“Two months ago, sir,” Indenuel said.

“And no one has contacted you about who your father is? Even the father himself, perhaps?” Indenuel shook his head, tired of the questions. “Well, from what we know of the afterlife, if she did not wish to give you the information in this life, she most likely won’t in the next, either. But maybe a bit more persuasion will help reveal the secret one day.” Indenuel tried not to let his shoulders slump with the realization of Navir’s words. “And where was this village you grew up in?”

“Mountain Pass, near Tavi, sir.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Which means it fits well with the prophecy. Excellent.” Navir turned to Martin. “You have tested him for healing?”

“Multiple times. He not only has it but is one of the strongest healers I’ve ever seen. I have witnessed him use the other three powers, but I will let you three test him, as you have more experience,” Martin said.

Navir smiled. “Alright. I don’t know what Martin has told you about these tests, but they will be quick and painless. We have tested enough individuals to know what to look for. Fadrique?”

Fadrique hesitated before coming forward. He gave a forced smile as he held out his hands. Indenuel placed his hands in Fadrique’s, almost scared to close his eyes first. Fadrique bowed his head, and he did the same.

They reached toward the heavens. Fadrique was powerful, there was no doubt about that. Indenuel pushed with his own, and he sensed the heavens darken with clouds. Rain began to fall in torrents before Fadrique pulled his power away, still holding his hands. “Try to stop it yourself.”

Indenuel was confused but sensed the storm as Fadrique’s powers completely withdrew. The rain softened from pounding on the rooftop to a simple rainfall. It followed his instructions, knowing it was made for a purpose, and willing to listen as it fell to a trickle, before stopping all together. He cracked an eye open.

Fadrique had a tight smile on his face. “He has the power to control the weather.” He seemed to hate vocalizing it.

Navir frowned, he too noticing Fadrique’s tone, but said nothing to clue Indenuel into what was going on. “Come, Indenuel, to the courtyard.” Navir opened the door and ushered him outside. “The Cathedral of the Savior’s Coming is of course built with tree talkers and weather controllers in mind. The very foundation we stand on can connect to every tree in the city.”

“Oh?” Curious, Indenuel tried it out. He sensed the trees through the stone. He thought it was impossible to connect to trees in a building. The power was more muted than standing on solid ground, but it was still a marvel.

“Connected to all the trees but the ones in the courtyard. They will really tell me if you have this power,” Navir said.

The courtyard was closed off to everyone else but those in the High Elder’s meditation room. There was another door across the way. It looked like a study room.

The excited chatter of the crowd was louder outside, most likely discussing the burst of rain they had. There were a dozen trees, their branches and leaves wet from the small storm, the drops sparkling in the evening sunlight. He and Navir entered the courtyard as the other High Elders stayed inside, watching from the doorway. The grass below was dewy and smelled of rich soil.

“Touch this tree here, and I’ll stand over there.”

Indenuel touched the bark of the tree and waited for Navir to get situated. He touched the tree and closed his eyes, and Indenuel did the same.

The trees in the courtyard were old. Older than the Cathedral itself. They had been protected because of their age. Their roots were interconnected with each other in the courtyard, but no outsider tree. They had a history, sensing so many of the most powerful tree talkers, all of them swearing the trees to protect the memories they had given them. Indenuel watched some of the memories of the tree talkers of old, giving him a sense of reverence. He pushed his power, curious to see how far back these memories went. He was there, when the trees were first planted in a grove not long after the Great Flood. The love of a family that poured into them was as rich as the soil they were placed in. He watched in rapid succession as the Cathedral was built, watched as it stood as a reminder of the goodness of God.

“The trees trust you,” he heard Navir’s essence say within the trees.

“Don’t trees trust everyone?” Indenuel asked.

“They are quite innocent in that, yes. Some would say purer than little children, as they are incapable of doing wrong unless their will is broken by another.”

Indenuel’s mind instantly went to Isla and Emilia, memories of their laughter traveling through the trees.

“But these trees are old. Old trees do not open up to you until they trust your power completely. When I was first made High Elder, it took me three years before I could commune with these trees as you have,” Navir said. “The fastest High Elder to do so, I might add.” Navir opened his eyes and lifted his hand, breaking his connection with the tree as Indenuel tried to calm his pounding heart. “God has given you nineteen years, yes?”

“Twenty on the fifth day of the first month, sir.”

Navir nodded. “You are one of the strongest tree talkers I have ever come across. Even more marvelous that you are so young.”

Indenuel glanced down at his feet, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “It is, um, I’m not always…” Indenuel tried to smile. “It is through God’s mercy that I am who I am, sir.”

Navir smiled. “Truly. Let us return and have Dalius check you.”

“It will be nearly impossible for Dalius to check him,” Fadrique said from the doorway, his arms folded. “He must go to sleep, see if he has any dreams. We must send all these people home. We cannot give a certain answer tonight.”

“He has proven three of the four gifts,” Martin said. “I have seen him cast away demons.”

“We cannot be wrong about this,” Fadrique said. “We must check all four, and he must have them. It is as the prophecy says.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Dalius said. “My grandfather will help us check his power.”

Indenuel’s eyes instantly turned to Cristoval’s, who again was staring around him, mumbling something. “What do I have to do?”

“Cristoval does not need sleep to see those who have passed to the other side. His powers are growing every day as he draws nearer to the end of his life. We will both touch his arm, and if you are truly as strong as my fellow High Elders claim you are, we will see what he sees,” Dalius said, taking a hold of Cristoval’s arm.

Indenuel cleared his throat, trying desperately not to look terrified. “Right. Right, of course.”

Indenuel approached Cristoval and knelt beside him. The man’s skin clung to the bones and was thin and papery. He didn’t know why he was so frightened of Cristoval. The truth was he had never seen someone so old. He touched Cristoval’s arm. There wasn’t much noise in the meditation room to begin with, but it seemed to intensify once he connected with Cristoval. Peace permeated the room as brief outlines of sprits flitted in and out of the walls and meandered through the courtyard. As the spirits spoke to one another, it sounded like music. Some spirits turned toward Indenuel and Dalius before blinking out of existence while others paid them no mind.

“Describe one of them to me,” Dalius said.

Indenuel looked around the room before finding a spirit he could see well enough to describe. “That one. I think that’s a Dengrian spirit. She has brown eyes and… red? I didn’t know hair could be red. Oh, she’s looking at us.” He tried to wave and felt ridiculous doing so. The Dengrian girl stared before blinking out of existence.

Dalius nodded. “I saw her too, before she disappeared.”

The room was brighter, which made the darkness outside more apparent. Indenuel frowned as he looked out the window. There was shield over the Cathedral, where the spirits blinked in and out of existence, but just outside the protection there was blackness. The blackness of shadows, writhing as they tried to break the barrier of goodness. Indenuel’s chest tightened. Those black shadows were all too familiar to him.

A shadow turned its head, eyes so black they glowed as the demon saw him. Indenuel’s eyes widened. It opened its mouth and began to shriek. It sounded muted, like the barrier was keeping it at bay. It couldn’t get to him. More demons turned, just beyond the shield, and began a frenzied attempt to break the barrier to get to him. Indenuel gasped, dropping his connection with Cristoval. He scooted on his hands and feet far away from Cristoval, breathing deeply.

“What is it, my boy?” Martin asked, kneeling next to him and placing an arm around his shoulders. Tolomon was on the other side of him

“D-Demons. Right outside the Cathedral,” he whispered. He had broken out in a cold sweat and tried not to feel embarrassed about it.

“Ah, never mind demons,” Dalius said as Tolomon helped Indenuel to his feet. “They can’t get in the Cathedral.”

“But… but outside? Right now? In the city? If… if I go outside?” Indenuel knew he wasn’t making any sense. He had only ever seen that level of demon activity on the Day of the Devil, and that was terrifying enough.

“You don’t bother them, they aren’t allowed to bother you,” Dalius said.

Indenuel stared at him. “That’s… never been the case with me.”

Dalius frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“The demons. They… every Day of the Devil they-”

“Oh, right. Yes. Well, the Day of the Devil they certainly enjoy teasing people, but even then they have no real power,” Dalius said.

Indenuel didn’t dare say anything. He wasn’t sure if Dalius quite understood. They weren’t teasing him, they were terrifying him.

“This is magnificent to see,” Navir said.

Indenuel would have to talk to Dalius later, describe exactly what the demons do. Make Dalius understand the true extent of how immobile he felt on that cursed holiday.