The village felt like it could finally breathe again.
No one said anything special. No one blew a trumpet. No priest shouted a message from the sky. But ever since Simon came back from the trial beneath the golden peacock, since he rose again as the True Shepherd, something changed. The air felt cleaner. The ground felt warmer. The stars stayed a little longer in the sky before fading. Even the quiet moments between birds singing felt like they had meaning.
Children were laughing again. Old men sat under trees and cried, not knowing why. Mothers found that they could heal little cuts just by touching them. Most people didn't train or chase power. They didn't need to. Just living here now felt like enough.
But not for everyone.
Some people felt something deep inside, like a whisper, not from Heaven, but from within. It pulled them forward. It wasn't a lesson or a rule. It was something older, like a memory that had always been part of them.
The first to rise were the Apostles. They were strong and full of energy. They trained under Mike, not to fight, but to be ready. They didn't learn war, they learned focus. They walked outside the village, mapping the land. Some followed Mike. Others were strangely drawn to old places where Luca used to pray. His presence still lingered there, like ash on stone.
Next came the Preachers. Their voices burned, not loud but powerful. They didn't give sermons. They spoke from the soul, and their words made people remember things they had forgotten. They followed Luca, even though he was missing. They found his voice in the silence. In the ashes on broken altars. In pain that led to healing.
Then came the Baptisers. They were strange. They worked with water but also with dreams. They helped others cross unseen lines. Sometimes they led others through pain just by holding their hand. Most trained with Mike. He had once pulled people through fire, helping them change. The Baptisers' way was harsh but full of hope.
The Interpreters didn't follow straight paths. They stayed by rivers and fields. They watched the sky, listened to animals, and read the way vines curled. They whispered to the wind, waiting for answers. They followed Gabriel even though he said he wasn't their teacher. He often scolded them, calling them "idiots" and "blind owls." But he stayed, always nearby, always watching.
Finally came the Healers.
They grew slowly and quietly. They healed through dreams, soft songs, and small touches. But as they grew, they began to notice two paths. Two kinds of healing.
Mike's way was strong and clear. He taught them to hold pain without trying to erase it. He taught them to use Grace like a soft stone, strong, but full of care. His healing left scars to remind and protect.
Luca's healing was different. It wasn't gentle. It was sharp and honest. He didn't hide the pain, he brought it out into the light. He opened wounds wide, so nothing ugly could stay hidden. Some healers began to walk this path. They had darker dreams and colder hands. But the people they healed cried with joy, even though they couldn't say why.
Each healer would have to choose which path to follow.
Simon, now the True Shepherd, didn't speak much. He didn't preach or train anyone. He just sat on the old altar hill with his legs crossed, staring into the distance. Birds would land near him. Rain would fall, but not on him. Even small children watched him in silence.
To some, it felt holy.
To others, it was strange.
Mike and Gabriel still called him "little brother." The old women who once worked in the temple did too. They said it with love, but there was sadness in their voices, like they still remembered the boy named William, who once dreamed of becoming a High Priest.
Simon carried their respect like a heavy coat. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to walk through the fields again. But now, even when he said nothing, the sky seemed to listen. And that… was heavy.
Some nights, when everyone slept and only the moon watched, Simon would bury his face in his hands and cry. Not out of fear. Not from weakness. But with a deep sorrow that only those chosen for something great can truly understand.
One day, it rained, but it wasn't normal rain. It was like a mist, soft and quiet.
Gabriel came back, walking barefoot through the wet grass. No one knew where he had been. He just showed up like he always did, suddenly and without warning. His temper was a little worse each time. He looked like a mad old man, or maybe he was just pretending to be one.
He wandered the village, giving bread to kids, scolding the Apostles for making too much noise, and mumbling strange prayers. He kicked over altars that didn't make sense. Then he climbed the hill and sat next to Simon.
He said nothing for a long time.
Then he whispered, "It wasn't supposed to be you."
Simon didn't answer, just shook his head as though saying even Gab did not understand
Gabriel nodded, as if he already knew the answer he would get, he was just prodding anyways, hoping for an answer, even just one, but this just brought back memories when he followed that being, he would be told he would not understand every time he asked too much as though he were a child, Simon was doing the same, the resemblance in the Gaze, the mannerisms... As though sensing Gabs thoughts Simon looked over and Gab forgot his line of thought transitioning into a new line of thought as though he had never asked anything, this time Gabriel stayed. At least for a while
But under all the joy and new growth, something else was moving.
The ground started to hum. Not loud. Not always. But sometimes, in moments of stillness, a soft vibration could be felt under the feet, in the teeth, deep in the chest.
Mike felt it. He didn't say much, but he pushed the Apostles to train harder.
Gabriel noticed too. He stopped joking when the hum came.
Simon felt it all the time.
He never spoke of it. But whenever it came, his fingers would twitch. And his shadow… flickered the wrong way for just a second.
They all knew: something was moving.
Not from Heaven. Not from Hell.
But something older. Forgotten.
Or maybe… something remembered.
The sun began to set. Gold and deep blue filled the sky.
Simon stood at the top of the altar hill, as he did every evening, looking far into the distance.
Then Luca appeared beside him.
He didn't walk up. He didn't make a sound. He was just there.
No one else saw him.
His robes were darker now, with lines of coal and ash. He didn't smile. He didn't frown. But his presence felt strong, like a king returning to a throne that had been waiting.
Simon didn't turn. He didn't need to.
He said, "You came."
Luca replied, "You're not alone."
No one else noticed. But high above, the stars seemed to pause.
And under their feet, the hum grew louder. At least to the two of them
Just for a moment.