"Hey, Sunday."
"Hm?"
As the man was cleaning up Val's empty dishes, the boy spoke up, surprising even him, who didn't expect Valentine to be awake so early in the morning.
He glanced down at the boy, his gaze absent.
Sunday, as quiet as always, put down the empty bowl and glass back on the nighstand, sitting down on his tiny stool that seemed to be suffering with his every visit.
"What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
The man sent him a light smile.
"Yes, you don't have to ask me every time."
"Okay..."
Valentine nodded to himself, looking at the man's hands.
They were clean and void of any injuries except for the pale tan he started developing after beggining Val's treatment. There were no signs of being burnt by the scorching flames; only the slightly burnt hairs on the ends of his forearms were reminding him of the wondrous ritual.
His eyes fell on something smaller, less impressive.
It was his own hand that Sunday created.
Being two to three times smaller than the giants, of course, he thought of it as something... meager.
Spending time under his care, he thought of himself as a nuisance, someone who takes up space without doing anything in return.
Honestly, he wasn't the kind of person to do that in the first place, only recently being in a situation where he couldn't do anything on his own.
Sunday, noticing the boy's intense stare, chuckled, his voice turning brighter.
"You want to know how it was created?"
Val's eyes widened briefly before shrinking back and looking at the wooden ceiling.
I guess I can't hide it well.
He did want to ask him about it after seeing what happened with the strange book; his already overflowing curiosity burst out the moment he recited that book's cover aloud.
Sunday could always use the strange flame and restore his body piece by piece, but him? He didn't know if it were possible to do anything like that.
At least not until he recited those strange words.
It felt like...
A sensation he had never experienced before in his life. Something no human could express under any normal circumstances.
The night before, he wondered if he had become mad, only thinking about the single sentence and repeating it inside his mind without a break. It was also the reason why he could catch Sunday off guard, having not slept even for a minute that day.
Like a silent call, it came from the depths of his mind, resting there as if waiting for its name to be chanted once more.
"Why?"
The man's sudden words made Valentine close his lips without a sound, not knowing how to respond to his question.
Why do I... want to know about that flame?
He didn't know; to be honest, he didn't know anything about himself at all.
It was just a whim of his to ask that question, not thinking about the man's response in the slightest.
"Just because I want to... Is that not enough?"
With a half-hearted wave of his hand, he blurted out the only reason he could come up with.
Creak.
His head turned to the side, watching Sunday stand up from his stool and take off his coat for the first time.
As his dark sweater revealed itself beneath it, his build, barely hidden under the thin white coat, became more prominent and intimidating for Val to observe. His chest was as big as a boulder, bulging beneath the cotton sweater as if having a mind of its own. The same was for his arms and legs, which looked ready to tear his strained clothes and flex themselves in front of him.
Sunday, with his warm smile, held his hands together as one would during a prayer, not looking away from Valentine's face.
"You want to know what a blessing is..."
Suddenly, a tiny spark appeared between his closed palms, making his hands glow faintly.
So that's what it's called.
Val watched him intensely, trying to shift himself into a more comfortable position with the little strength he had.
Sunday continued.
"...Then I will explain to you, a fallen believer, what a blessing is for a devout saint like me."
From between his fingers, tiny white flames were crawling out of his grasp like a snake's nest.
They flickered under his light grip as he let go, revealing a cluster of tangled threads trying to untangle themselves as fast as they could.
But each attempt made the strings wrap around each other even more, becoming fuller and with fewer openings across its surface.
"Your memories, they are flawed."
He pointed at his forehead with his index finger, twisting it.
"I met people like you back in the day, confused from losing their path after having been influenced by her curse."
"You must have felt it when you woke up here the first time: sudden waves of dizziness, loss of balance or footing, an unfocused mind, and the sudden need to learn something without understanding why you need it in the first place."
"Little things like sound or smell will make you drawn towards them even when you find it hard to do."
"It's because you crave knowledge that has been taken from you, desiring a replacement within anything in your reach."
Val looked at him with surprise, remembering his condition a week ago.
I thought I was just tired or poisoned.
But maybe that was not the case.
And memory loss?
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
He grumbled, listening intently to Sunday's explanation.
"What curse?"
"Ah, of course you won't know that as well."
Shaking his head, he looked at the cluster of flames under his nose.
"You see, there is a certain rule regarding blessings, something that everyone has to follow in order to gain their grace."
His right hand was placed on his heart.
"Those flames are a gift to us. No matter how much we will suffer under them, we will stay with them until the end."
...Why?
"I know, you may think it's foolish to do something that will bring harm to yourself, but that's what makes us true believers."
He smiled to himself, looking at the cluster of flames being fulfilled without any imperfections left to show.
A perfect sphere of flickering blaze ignited with a brighter light.
"Even when we suffer, we keep on believing in those flames."
"Their warmth may not be as comforting as it seems, but it's the only thing we, the believers, can have after entrusting our hearts to them."
His left hand - the one away from his chest - came closer to the fiery sphere, caressing its polished surface with his fingers.
Thin, dark smoke rose from their tips, followed by the smell of burnt meat.
There was no change on his face, still holding onto a warm smile directed towards the flame.
As he raised his hand from it.
Wince!
The sight of his seared fingers greeted Valentine, prompting him to grimace.
Sunday's hand had turned into a bulging lump of charred flesh, barely maintaining the shape of his long, robust fingers. There was no blood, scars, or a blister, just a simple line around his wrist where the heat could not touch with its reach.
Sweating at the sight, Valentine asked, a tinge of worry mixed in his tone.
"Doesn't it... hurt?"
In response, Sunday raised his hand away from the sphere, flexing it enough to make it move despite being charred.
"No, not at all."
His smile deepened.
"Flames cannot be the cause of our suffering; they are merely a part of us, something we have to get used to, even if it brings us pain."
"The stronger our faith is towards the flames, the closer we are to understanding them."
He flicked his wrist, lighting his hand ablaze with white flames.
"It is the reason why people who do not choose to be believers are left in the shade of our magnificent sun."
"They cannot, or rather, choose not to follow the path we had paved for them, only chasing the embers scattered throughout our history."
As the blaze on his hand started fading, his flesh was visibly replaced, returning his palm to its previous condition.
No.
Now it looked brand new, with flexible skin and no markings left behind due to his hard work, almost like that of a toddler.
"That is what being a believer means."
"Is that so..."
I didn't know there was so much to it.
Sunday's explanation made Val fall into thought, for once not about something his mind had chosen but a topic brought to him by the man next to him.
He didn't expect it to have such a deep meaning; rather, he thought it would be something as easy as breathing.
To not feel pain after having his own hand turn into coal.
It was terrifying.
What would he do if he became a believer?
Of course, he wanted to wield powers just like Sunday. Being able to regenerate anything is in itself a gift sent down by the heavens, but for it to be something anyone could get with enough faith.
"About that curse though..."
Sunday's expression became hard to read as he fell into thought.
"It's a rare thing to see, but back in the day, people like me chose to chase after the embers straying away from the chosen path."
"They probably gained a new name by now, but whenever someone like that was brought to the world, we branded them as witches and cursebearers, those who bring misfortune."
Wait a second...
Valentine repeated his words inside his mind and questioned him.
"Then... doesn't it mean I'm one of those cursebearers or whatever?"
"You are."
"Ah-"
"But you have yet to gain an ember."
"Then what are those 'embers' you keep mentioning?"
At his words, Sunday stopped for a second, his smile tightening in a somewhat strange and scary way.
He brought his fist above Val's face and, with a flick of his finger, hit him in the forehead forcelessly.
Well, it was only weak from his perspective; Valentine, on the other hand, let out a sharp yelp as he held onto his aching head where a bump grew.
"Don't ever ask such foolish questions."
He sat back on his stool, dispersing the sphere of flames into thin air.
"I will never let someone become an ember, especially someone who has been recently cursed."
Putting his white coat over his shoulder and straightening it with a few light pulls, he stood up and took a step closer to Valentine's bed, where the boy lay, grasping his head, looking at him with teary eyes.
"The knowledge of today will bring you great pleasure."
"However, I am not yet finished with you."
He leaned closer to his thick bandages, placing a hand over the boy's chest.
Again smiling, he explained.
"For some strange reason, my energy keeps coming back faster each time I gift you my blessing; thus, the time for your healing will be shortened by two weeks."
"Ah, what a great time it is, for a great vessel to be found when I was in seclusion."
"Well then, let us begin your procedure."
"Today, you will be able to move your upper body in no time."
Grinning, two tiny golden sparks lit up in his eyes.