CALEISMforevermore
Cale looked nothing like the boy they remembered.
Months in the holy water had remade him into something unreal-something sacred. His hair, once short and ordinary, now spilled around him in a waterfall of blood-red silk, drifting all the way to his ankles. Even dry, it shimmered faintly, as if the light inside the holy water had woven itself into every strand.
His skin was pale, almost translucent, with thin golden veins of light glowing softly beneath the surface, tracing over his collarbone and down his wrists like delicate divine markings. Every slow inhale made the light pulse gently, as though a second heartbeat rested beneath his ribs.
And his eyes-
rose-gold, glowing weakly but undeniably holy-
opened and closed with the weary grace of someone pulled back from a long, deep sleep. There was no aggression in them, no confusion, only quiet exhaustion and a strange, soft clarity.
Even weakened, even trembling, he radiated a warmth that wrapped around the room like a protective blessing. The air felt lighter, calmer, as though standing too close to him meant being forgiven for something you didn't remember doing.
Cale Henituse looked like a saint who had been carved from morning light and red dawn.
And he had just woken up.