Chapter One: A Voice in the Chapel
The bell at Holy Rosary Minor Seminary rang twelve slow chimes, each one echoing softly across the wide campus nestled in the heart of Naga City. The air was thick with the scent of sampaguita and rustling leaves, and the last light of the sun poured over the chapel's stained-glass windows like spilled gold.
Night prayers had just ended, and most of the seminarians were already inside the dormitories, preparing for lights out. But three boys lingered outside the old chapel, caught in a silence too deep to break.
Hans, the tallest of the three, stood by the steps, a rolled-up sketchpad tucked under his arm. His hands were stained with pencil lead—he'd spent most of his free time drawing sacred images, especially saints. Quiet and thoughtful, Hans had a calm presence that made even the younger seminarians instinctively trust him.
Beside him, Andrew moved with restless energy, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. His sharp eyes scanned the darkening sky as if looking for something beyond the clouds. He was half-Filipino, half-Chinese, and carried himself with a kind of confidence that often walked the line between bold and reckless. Still, when he prayed, there was a sincerity that grounded him.
Sitting cross-legged at the base of a statue of the Virgin Mary was Sheik, the smallest of the three. His fingers turned his rosary slowly, lips moving in silent prayer. Though he didn't speak much, when he did, it often left people quiet. There was something different about Sheik—something still and deep.
They were all 14. Just boys. But they were also seminarians, living under discipline, prayer, and formation. They were there because, in their own way, each of them believed they might be called to become priests.
As the sky darkened to indigo, a breeze passed through the courtyard.
Hans looked at the chapel. "Do you ever feel like… we're waiting for something?"
Andrew shrugged. "I think we already found it. We just haven't figured it out yet."
Sheik, still turning his rosary beads, said quietly, "Maybe it's waiting for us."
Just then, the wind stopped.
The candles inside the chapel—all of them—flickered and went out.
No footsteps. No noise.
And then, in the silence, all three boys heard it—not with their ears, but somewhere deeper. The voice was clear, soft, and unmistakable:
"Come to the place where light is hidden. There, your true journey begins."
Sheik opened his eyes. Andrew stiffened. Hans stood frozen, his sketchpad pressed to his chest.
They didn't need to ask if the others heard it.
They had.
And something inside them shifted.
This was more than seminary. More than routine prayers and lessons.
Something had begun.