Chapter 1: My Own Flesh and Blood

The sky was a brilliant blue, the light of the afternoon sun streaming down as I knelt in the city church, offering my prayers to God.

With my hands clasped before the holy statue and my eyes closed, I focused on my silent devotions. The still air around me was filled with quiet chattering.

“Finally done! Let’s go grab a drink.”

“A drink, huh? Sorry, I’m broke this month.”

“What? Just ask your wife for a little extra allowance.”

“Are you insane? If I asked her that, she’d start throwing plates again. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to clean up broken dishes?”

One by one, those who only prayed for the sake of routine slowly drifted out of the church. I eventually finished my own prayers.

Rising to my feet, I turned and made my way toward the priest sitting quietly in the corner of the room. He sat behind the table with perfect posture, his back straight as a rod.

I stepped up to him and spoke across the table.

“I’d like to make a donation,” I said.

“Thank you as always, Light Marquinas,” he replied. “Please sign here.”

He was someone I’d interacted with many times before. As he spoke, he opened the notebook I had come to call the “donation ledger”—although I had no idea what its of