Novel & Cerita Richard Bach Messiah's Handbook

"Hmmm, isn't this just making light?" "Yup. This may be just making light, but it can help you in many ways, especially when you go outside at night again." The lady flinched. 'Ah yeah, that's right.' Dale closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, after making sure that his body is in a good condition, he began reciting the spell. A yellow light manifested on his right hand. He raised it and suddenly, a ball of white light formed from it. Chiara widened her eyes in surprise. It was shocking to see an actual living person who uses mana first-hand. Most people line up to the temple just to witness the priests' power, even nobles were no exception. Now she witnessed one personally, in a boo

“Winked at me, the son of a bitch.” Richard looked down at what he’d been given. It was a Bible, the object the admiral had been holding in his lap—removed from its lectern not twenty-four hours prior when Lawrie had hugged himself and ran out of the church with it beneath his jacket. Leather-bound and tattered, really, really old. Rich lifted the worn cover and saw it was printed in a foreign language, glimpsed D. Martin Luthers on a crumbling inner page, 1670 below that. German. Over three hundred years worth of old. But why—

I stretched my arms to ease the aches on my muscles, knowing fully well that Benito, my chauffeur, was watching me from the corner of his eyes. I handed him my right hand, and he held it gently and helped me out of the car. I knew I needed no aid to alight from the car, but only peasants work without aid, and I’m not one of them. “Finally.” I muttered, looking up to the large inscription on the large pillars of the cemetery; Cursed be unto him, who would move the bones of the nobles. “This way, Ma’am.” Benito bowed, with his hands poised towards the entrance of the cemetery.

God came first before anything else and that was the order in which I'd set my life. The service was peaceful. The choir’s voices soared like birds in flight, and the sermon which was about restoration and grace felt like it had been written just for me. I held Hayley close during the final hymn, her head nestled against my shoulder and her breath warm and steady. She was my miracle; my anchor; my reason. After the service, we exchanged pleasantries with a few familiar faces, saying hi where necessary and dropping good wishes for the new week. When all that was done, I held my daughter and we both walked hand in hand to the restaurant I’d picked out.