Chapter One: Prayer

Year 4623.

Savin Mountain, South District of Tanyi City, in the Third Division.

Along a winding mountain path, more than twenty children from St. Anne’s Convent, dressed in gray linen robes, were picking wild vegetables under the supervision of a stern-faced nun.

The nun, around fifty years old, already had streaks of white in her hair. The skin on her cheeks had grown loose and sagging with age, and even when her face was expressionless, there was an unmistakable severity that inspired fear.

The group stretched out in a long line. The nun stood at the front, while the children, scattered in small clusters, occasionally brought their finds to her, asking whether they were edible.

At the rear of the group, a red-haired girl followed behind a black-haired boy. Her pale blue eyes, like crystals steeped in a mountain stream, were full of alertness as she watched the grass rustling around them.

“Jane, come here!” the boy called, his expression alight with excitement. “Look what I found!”

The girl crouched beside him, her gaze falling on a dark brown mushroom growing from the earth. Her expression changed at once and she instinctively drew back.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bo Heng said softly. “It isn’t chelating fungus—just a regular mushroom, perfectly safe to eat. Look…”

She approached, still uncertain.

The boy produced a small knife and carefully pried the entire mushroom from the ground. Its cap was brown, and the mycelium beneath was caked with a little dirt. With a swift flick of his short blade, he trimmed off the soiled root and then blew away the dust.

Under the cap, the mushroom was creamy white.

“This is a morel. Looks like it’s already releasing spores. People used to dislike mushrooms that were this mature, but compared to other fungi, it’s still delicious.”

As he spoke, Bo Heng turned the morel upside down.

“See these raised areas under the cap? We have to scrape them off now, at least remove the spores. If they fall to the ground, they’ll start to sprout again soon.”

The girl hugged her knees, watching from the side. “Is it the same with chelating fungi?”

“They’re all fungi, so I guess it’s about the same.” Bo Heng stood, putting the cleaned morel into his cloth bag. “We’ll have a little extra for dinner tonight.”

As they straightened up, a sharp ringing sounded ahead—the signal from Sister Golding. All the children who heard the bell immediately dropped what they were doing and ran toward her.

At eleven, Hester was still thin and small. The boy took her by the hand and led her forward. Soon, more than twenty children had gathered in a circle around Sister Golding.

“Flossan has found a poor little squirrel,” Sister Golding said sternly. “Flossan, tell us what happened.”

A girl about Hester’s age timidly cradled a bloodied squirrel in her hands.

The squirrel was still alive, but its body was riddled with bleeding wounds.

“I saw a vulture circling in the distance, so I went to look. That’s when I found this squirrel. I think… it must have had its eyes pecked by the vulture, and it has several wounds on its body, too. I couldn’t save it…”

“I think this is a good opportunity,” Sister Golding said quietly. “Let’s all pray for this poor creature, that it may rest in peace. I taught you the prayers a few days ago, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Sister Golding,” the children replied in unison.

“Then let’s begin.”

Everyone set down their cloth bags or baskets. With hands pressed together, they began to recite prayers in soft voices.

“Jane, what are you doing?”

A cold voice from above startled eleven-year-old Hester out of her reverie.

She looked up to find Sister Golding’s severe gaze fixed on her, her gloved hands clasped before her chest, her expression shaded with displeasure.

A few children nearby peeked at Hester from the corners of their eyes.

“Everyone else, close your eyes,” the nun intoned.

All the kneeling children shuddered and hastily folded their hands, returning to their prayer postures.

“Everyone else is praying with their eyes closed, but you’re the only one who isn’t.” Sister Golding’s voice echoed over the mountain slope. “Miss Hester, answer me: What are you doing?”

“I was looking at the dead squirrel… Sister Golding,” Hester replied softly.

“Is that so?” The nun’s tone softened a little. “But you should close your eyes when you pray, Hester.”

“…I don’t quite understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Are we going to bury it in the ground like this?”

“Yes,” Sister Golding replied with fervor. “Our bodies return to the earth, but our souls come from above. If we pray sincerely for the dead, our prayers will reach the Holy Spirit, and the mercy bestowed will cleanse your souls…

“A soul that is pure is less likely to be parasitized by chelating fungi. Do you understand, Miss Hester?”

Hester frowned, saying nothing.

Sister Golding’s brow furrowed again. “What are you thinking about now?”

“I was thinking… why don’t we just ‘devoutly’ eat it right away?”

The world fell silent in an instant. Not even a breath was heard. The boy, Bo Heng, kneeling next to Hester, opened his eyes in alarm and looked at his friend.

Sister Golding’s face turned ashen. “W-What did you say…”

“It just died, and it’s still fresh—if we skin and cure it now—”

“Jane Hester.” Sister Golding’s voice was so severe it sent a chill down everyone’s spine. In disbelief, she whispered, “What are you saying…”

“We don’t have to eat it ourselves,” Hester added quickly. “Just prepare it and hang it outside. Whoever needs it can take it. It might not mean much to an adult, but to someone starving, it could mean a life. Burying it is such a waste—”

Before she could finish, Sister Golding grabbed her like an eagle snatching a chick and dragged her to the dead squirrel.

“Look at it,” the nun commanded, her voice quivering with a sorrowful tremor. “Look at this poor creature. I can hardly believe my ears, Miss Hester—how have I always taught you?”

“…Not to take life,” Hester answered, looking at the nun. “But we didn’t kill it, and we aren’t eating it ourselves—”

Smack—a slap landed on Hester’s head.

“Bo Heng! Take Jane Hester to the confinement room at the summit right now!” the nun’s voice shook. “She’s been possessed by evil spirits! She needs several days of solitary to come to her senses!”

…

Late at night, in the confinement room of St. Anne’s Convent, Hester curled up inside an iron cage.

Her red hair lay tangled over her face; her sleep was light.

“Jane, Jane…” a voice called to her, and Hester opened her eyes to see Bo Heng’s face outside the cage.

“Sister Golding is asleep. I brought you some food from the kitchen. Come out and eat.”

Hester’s eyes lit up instantly.

Bo Heng moved the heavy lock from the cage. It looked as if it was wound tightly and secured the cage completely, but in truth it was just for show—the lock hung loose and never actually fastened the cage.