The Price of Prayer
On the day we were dragged to the battlefield as the price of our prayers, a single soldier was assigned to my mother and me.
"From now on, you protect these two," came the castle lord's voice. "The saintess and the saintess's mother."
"They must not die. Under any circumstances."
The soldier was still a young man.
"What's your name?"
"Matthias, sir."
Protecting us didn't just mean safeguarding. It meant never straying from our side. Never averting your eyes. And if necessary, drawing your sword first. Matthias gave us a single glance, his emotionless eyes absorbing the orders like stone.
We left the fortress for the forward outpost. The stench of iron, blood, and sweat wafted from afar. Inside the carriage, my mother kept crossing herself.
"Jan, it's okay. God is watching over us."
I smiled. "Yes, He's always watching."
At that time, I truly believed that voice belonged to God.
Matthias walked beside the carriage. His gaze barely met ours, but his hand never left the hilt of his sword.
At the temporary tent atop the hill, the castle lord, priests, generals, and nobles awaited.
"Saintess."
"Look."
Across the plain stood ranks of spears and shields—our army. Far off, the enemy loomed like a dark wave.
"They'll clash soon."
"This time, you must protect everyone gathered here," the priest said. "Saintess, please pray."
It was a command.
My mother gripped my hand tightly. Matthias stepped back one pace, positioning himself to watch both me and them.
I drew a breath. "......God."
The right words wouldn't come. So I just said it. "Please let at least the people fighting here survive."
The moment I closed my eyes, I saw the sky. Amid the dark clouds, a thin beam of light descended. I thought it was coming down. But the light veered, grazing past my head and shooting straight toward the plain's edge.
No one else saw it.
I was already doing so. "......Please."
"At least the people who can be seen..."
The words didn't finish.
They said we won that battle. As the enemy formed ranks near the riverbank and advanced, the swollen waters overnight breached the dam, sweeping away soldiers and horses.
"God's judgment."
"The saintess's prayers reached Him."
People said.
I bowed my head silently. In my mind, the direction the light had gone aligned perfectly with the river.
"I want to see that river myself."
The faces in the room froze instantly. The castle lord pondered briefly, then turned to Matthias.
"Take her and bring her back."
"Don't let her get hurt."
"Understood."
The riverbank had truly collapsed. Mud, broken trees, overturned wagons, and fences tangled in chaos. The survivors had already been carted off.
At my feet lay a single human hand. Soft, with few calluses. A farmer? A child?
I looked up at the sky. The beam was gone. But the unbroken line that had stretched here lingered in my mind.
"Saintess."
Matthias called. "Seeing more... will keep you from sleeping."
"I'm already not sleeping enough."
My voice came out lower than I expected. Matthias bowed his head instead of replying.
"Let's return."
As the war dragged on, prayers grew more frequent. Rain, plague, crops, death. People sought the saintess. I knelt.
"God."
When prayer began, beams of light descended from the sky. Not one now. Many split off, stretching to the troops below the walls, distant units, and forward camps. Then vanished.
I memorized the directions. Days later, reports came.
"Ice suddenly fell on the southern plains."
"Rocks collapsed from the northern mountains, burying a village."
"Almost all the sick in the western fortress died in a single day."
And always the same conclusion.
"But our troops passed safely."
"Thanks to the saintess, we won."
"It's all thanks to the saintess."
I bowed my head. Matthias said nothing beside me. Only the grip on his sword hilt grew more cautious.
The day word came that the supply train had been ambushed, the messenger said, "Fire broke out at a forest pass they were crossing. Most wagons burned."
His words trailed off. I stood.
Days earlier, I had prayed for that supply train. I had seen the beam follow the road, then veer into the forest.
"Any... survivors?"
"A few... reportedly."
The soldiers averted their eyes. Only Matthias sighed.
In the cramped courtyard of the forward outpost, I saw my childhood friend Henri again.
"Jan?"
Turning, I saw a face between boy and man. Sun-tanned skin, golden hair like ginkgo leaves, eyes crinkling when he smiled.
"Henri...?"
The boy who used to race around the well stood there, sword and shield at his side.
"So you became the saintess."
"Now you've even come to the fortress."
Words like a joke. But deep in his eyes lurked a new shadow.
I asked, "Should I... pray for you too, Henri?"
Henri fell silent a moment, then shrugged. "Nah, I'll handle it myself."
"If you pray and I die, it'd feel like your fault."
He added, "Half my squad's thrilled they survived thanks to your prayers, the other half's uneasy thinking someone died because of them."
"...I think it's fine if you don't want prayers."
"We'd have fought even if you weren't saintess."
"Death's common in war anyway."
Henri's words offered no comfort. But their honesty made them heavier.
"Still, if it raises the odds of survival..."
Bwooooong—— Before I finished, a trumpet blared from the walls. Assembly.
Henri turned. "Gotta go."
He smiled at me. "When I get back, I'll pray for you."
Matthias watched his retreating figure. "Childhood friend?"
After Henri ran toward the gate, Matthias asked.
"Yes."
"A young man with good eyes."
No pretense in Matthias's words. That made them weigh more.
That night, atop the walls. The castle lord, priests, and officers climbed up.
"Saintess."
The priest said, "Pray for at least the squads heading into the valley to survive."
Lights flickered in the darkness. Somewhere below was Henri.
I slowly clasped my hands. "......God."
"Please let at least the people under that banner survive."
The sky responded. Beams pierced the clouds. Many grazed the walls and army, heading for the valley.
Then suddenly, the light bent sideways. Toward the steep mountainside.
"No."
"Not there..."
My hands trembled. What if I stopped the prayer? Could I cancel what had already begun?
Breath came short. "......Please."
"Let them live."
Who did those words reach?
A rumble of collapsing earth echoed from the valley. Dust rose, rocks tumbled down. Cheers turned to screams.
I ran to the wall. Matthias grabbed my arm.
"Dangerous!"
"Let go!"
I shook him off and leaned over the edge. Earth and stone fell like a waterfall. People amid it—some fleeing, some stumbling, some staring upward, frozen.
One of them. Our eyes didn't meet, not at this distance. But I was certain.
A face gazing at the sky from beneath the crumbling mound. Henri.
His lips moved, as if speaking. A prayer? A curse? My name?
Dust swallowed him. My body swayed. As I nearly fell, Matthias wrapped his arms around my waist.
"No!"
I had no choice but to tear my eyes from the valley. The beams faded slowly.
They never found Henri's body that day. A few survivors said, "Saw it coming down." "Something fell from above."
At that moment, I was praying atop the walls. Beside me, Matthias. Nearby, the castle lord and priests.
My mother came and said, "It's okay. It will be okay."
It wasn't. I would never see Henri again. It was as if I had killed my friend with my own hands.
That was when I realized. My prayers weren't normal.
My prayers weren't prayers at all.
After that, I refused to pray. Even when the castle lord summoned me. Even when the priests commanded. Even when soldiers begged.
"If you don't pray, we'll all die."
"You know closing your mouth puts your parents in danger first, right?"
Threats blurred into desperation. Matthias stayed by my side. He blocked raised voices, eyed hands on sword hilts. But he never told me to pray.
Lying in bed, I repeated words that weren't prayers. Stop now. No more anyone...
I hate it, hate it, hate it, hateithateithateithateit.
The final prayer began amid flames. Shouts and screams surged from the battlefield outside the walls. The outpost shook; dust fell from the ceiling. People flooded the chapel. The castle lord. Priests. Generals and nobles. Wounded soldiers. And my mother.
"Saintess."
"Now it's truly impossible."
"Pray."
I stood. I didn't kneel.
"No."
The word slipped out. Faces hardened all at once.
"Jan." My mother seized my hand. It trembled. "Please... just this once, pray for us."
The castle lord ground his teeth. "If you close your mouth, we can't call you God's tool."
"Then what will you be?"
Matthias stood by the door, hand on his sword hilt. I looked down at my mother's hand.
No prayer, and someone dies. Prayer, and someone else dies instead. No prayer, and everyone here might die. Prayer, and I'll kill someone else again.
A lie, maybe. What did truth or falsehood matter now?
I slowly knelt. The chapel floor was cold.
"God."
"This time..."
"This war..."
I drew breath. "End it."
I added no plea to save or kill anyone. Me, my mother, this fortress, allies, enemies—all included or all excluded.
The prayer was one sentence. End it.
A beam descended from the sky. The thickest, quietest I had ever seen. It paused above my head, then surged upward. Past walls and battlefield, trees and river, mountains and villages, to heights beyond imagination.
I didn't look up. I just closed my eyes.
Embracing slowly in my chest the fact that the final prayer was over.