A Renewed Future

A week before Selcer Academia began, Anderson lay in a small room, deep in a coma, attached to a ventilator. Various types of medical equipment surrounded him. On a stool nearby sat a priest, clutching a silver-beaded star rosary. The priest, with a clear yet weakened voice that suggested days without a proper meal, uttered a prayer, "O Lord, who commands all, oh merciful healer, grant thy merciful and benevolent gaze on this soul. In the ancient whispers of time, I beseech thee to weave threads of vitality, guiding the spirit back from shadows into the warm embrace of health's gentle light. Amen."

"Luke, please, I beg of you, don't leave before me. Open your eyes and tell me this is all just my mind playing tricks on me." Tears of pure anguish streamed down the wrinkled cheeks of the old priest. Memories of the accident haunted him, replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare. In the garden, a boy played with his friends under God's shelter. Yet, in a fleeting moment, everything changed. Some perished, others fled, and one stood valiantly, attempting to shield the rest. A deafening roar echoed, a beast devoid of reason, and a man armed with a blade confronted the creature. With a swift and desperate strike, the man pierced the heart of the beast. In the aftermath, chaos ensued. The boy, thrown against a wall, struck his head. The man rushed towards the child, a boy who, in fear, had chosen to protect the young ones over himself.

Now, as the old priest pleaded with the unconscious Luke, the echoes of that fateful day reverberated in his anguished heart. A nun enters the room, "Father, the children are..." but the nun stops herself as she sees a father grieving for a boy who was dear to him as a son, "Yes, sister?" a weak voice answers, as if he had not spoken in a while. The sound of a boy "LUKE," the priest said in a trembling and relieved voice.

The nun's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and relief at the sudden exclamation. She rushed towards the bedside, where Anderson lay unconscious, his frail form connected to the life-sustaining machines. The priest, Father Benedict, continued to gaze at Luke, his eyes filled with a blend of astonishment and gratitude. Father Benedict, still holding the silver-beaded star rosary, nodded slowly. "It seems so, Sister. His name, Luke, escaped my lips without conscious thought. Perhaps, the divine has heard our prayers."

As the nun approached, she noticed a subtle change in Anderson's demeanor. His fingers twitched, and there was a faint fluttering of eyelashes. The room, once draped in somber stillness, now hummed with a renewed sense of hope.

"Luke," Father Benedict whispered, his hand reaching out to gently touch Anderson's forehead. "Can you hear me, my son?"

The nun's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and relief at the sudden exclamation. She rushed towards the bedside, where Anderson lay unconscious, his frail form connected to the life-sustaining machines. The priest, Father Benedict, continued to gaze at Luke, his eyes filled with a blend of astonishment and gratitude.

"Father, is he waking up?" the nun asked, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Father Benedict, still holding the silver-beaded star rosary, nodded slowly. "It seems so, Sister. His name, Luke, escaped my lips without conscious thought. Perhaps, the divine has heard our prayers."

As the nun approached, she noticed a subtle change in Anderson's demeanor. His fingers twitched, and there was a faint fluttering of eyelashes. The room, once draped in somber stillness, now hummed with a renewed sense of hope.

"Luke," Father Benedict whispered, his hand reaching out to gently touch Anderson's forehead. "Can you hear me, my son?"

Anderson's eyes flickered open, struggling to adjust to the soft light in the room. Confusion clouded his gaze for a moment, but as his vision cleared, recognition set in. He looked at Father Benedict with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

"Father Benedict?" he uttered weakly, his voice barely audible.

Tears welled up in the old priest's eyes, and he clasped the silver-beaded rosary tightly. "Luke, my boy, you're back. The Lord has granted us His mercy."

The nun, overwhelmed with emotion, silently stepped back, allowing the reunion to unfold. Father Benedict continued to speak words of comfort and reassurance to Anderson, filling him in on the events that led to this critical moment. The room echoed with gratitude, prayer, and the unmistakable sense of divine intervention.

As Luke began to heal and feel better, this event shocked the doctors and expert Arcans healer as well, wondering how someone could recover so quickly and get out of a coma in the interval of a few days.

"So the attack hasn't happened yet. Thank God I made it in time," Luke rumbled gibberish to himself while he got ready to leave for the academy. "Luke, my child, are you ready? It's nearly time," said the old priest. "Yeah, let's get going before I'm late for the ceremony." Luke, wearing a proper uniform, was ready for a future he was sure to impact.