Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

​The young priest collapsed into the dust, his entire body shaking so hard his teeth clicked, his bladder completely failing him as he wet himself right there on the sacred marble.

​Julian calmly let go of the fabric, dusting off his palms as if he had just moved a heavy piece of furniture. He looked down at the cowering council. He had made his point.

​"Bleaching your hair until it rots," Julian said, his voice dropping into a clear, cutting lecture. "Forcing your eyes to turn grey at such a young age through toxic drops, restricting your diets until your bones are brittle... the God of Light did not ask for a single one of those things to be done. You call it discipline, but you are simply punishing your own flesh for the sake of an appearance. That is not what he asked of you."

​The entire Inner Sanctum went dead silent. The only sound left in the hall was the shallow, terrified breathing of the priest on the floor and the faint crackle of heat from the crater.

​Julian let out a quiet, inward sigh. He could see it in their blank, pale faces—they would find it hard to believe. They would find it nearly impossible to change because they had been repeating these exact, hollow practices for a thousand years, and Alias had never once come down from the clouds to correct their homework.

But as he looked at Alaric’s steady frame beside him, Julian could only hope that the seed had finally been planted in their stubborn heads. They needed to wake up because the real war wasn’t going to be fought with silver hair dye.

"I want to have a meeting with the Commander of the Holy Knights." Julian suddenly said. "We need to strategize. The longer we delay, the more time the demons have to prepare before they strike. We must strike now that there is a gap."

The gap he made as he knelt and prayed in the southern pass, pushing back the miasma must already be filled by now. But Julian was now filled with so much more divinity. He could pull that stunt off a second time, and this time, he wouldn’t pass out.

"We must strike the demons and put an end to them, once and for all."

Pope Clement didn’t dare to raise his head. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the scorched marble floor, his voice shaking as he quickly nodded.

"I... I will summon Holy Commander Nadic immediately, Saint Julian. He will report to the war chamber at your word." 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

​"Good," Julian said, his tone dry and professional. "And make sure the chamber is cleared of anyone who isn’t essential. We don’t have time for a crowd."

​He turned on his heel, his blue robes cutting a sharp line through the heavy silence of the hall. Alaric walked right beside him, easily carrying the resting Lucius against his broad chest.

As they walked past the side of the hall, Julian’s blue eyes briefly caught Castor’s gaze.

Castor was staring at him, his mouth slightly open, completely ignoring the terrified whispers of the older priests around him.

You’re so cool, Julian. He thought, completely smitten by the show just now.

Alaric noticed the boy’s lingering stare. A low, warning rumble started deep in the Duke’s throat, and he shifted his hold on Lucius, deliberately stepping into Castor’s line of sight to block his view of Julian entirely.

​Castor didn’t back down, but he did clear his throat and hurriedly looked away when Alaric’s hand drifted toward the heavy hilt of his sword.

​Julian led the way down the grand corridor toward the secure war chamber. There was just no time to rest. The quicker they were done with this, the closer they were to going back to the North and living the rest of their lives happily together.

Kaelen and the northern knights instantly moved to reform their protective circle around them.

Once they crossed the threshold into the stone-walled room and the heavy wooden doors clicked shut behind them, the stifling weight of the church’s artificial atmosphere finally lifted.

​Alaric set Lucius down on a long wooden bench near the corner. The boy sat quietly, his small fingers hooking into the edge of his father’s leather tunic as he watched Julian.

​"You handled them well," Alaric said, his voice returning to its normal rough, quiet depth. "The priest looked like he was about to faint right into that crater."

​"I had to be strict and direct. The church has spent a thousand years rewriting the rules to suit their own ideals," Julian muttered, shaking his head as he leaned his hands against the heavy oak table in the center of the room. "They think being righteous means starving themselves of appropriate nutrients and dyeing their hair. They have been lost, and now, I have shown them the path. It is up to them to get on it."

The reason the god of light has never been able to speak to them wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but the connection he had over this world was great, so much so that speaking to a mortal could shatter their very core.

So, the reason he was able to speak to Julian was... well, pretty obvious... because he was the other half of his soul. Anyone else would’ve heard his voice and not woken up from their slumber, entering eternal rest.

Julian looked up, his eyes locking onto Alaric and Kaelen.

​"The gap I made when I pushed back the miasma at the southern pass won’t hold forever. Norx is patient, but his malice doesn’t sleep. He will be forcing more of those things through the tears in the earth to fill the void I cleared. Right now, while the air is still thin down there, we have to strike."

​Kaelen stepped forward, his expression dead serious. "Master Julian, my knights are ready to march on your command. But if what you said earlier is true... If our steel will simply melt when it touches their skin, how do we hold the line?"

​"That is exactly why we are waiting for the Holy Commander," Julian explained, his voice flat and tactical. "The Holy Empire’s knights have the facilities and the high-density holy water needed for a grand baptism. I am going to force the church to open its sacred vats. Every blade, every spear, and every piece of armor belonging to the northern order will be submerged and coated in pure light before we march."