Chapter 2

Lina and Rose seemed to feel as uneasy as Violet. They clutched the little girl’s hands tightly.

“Why is he looking at her like that?” Lydia whispered to Lina.

Freesia sounded cheerful as she called out flirtatiously, “Oh, my dear knight! Why are you silent?” Her ringing voice did nothing to sway the man as he continued to look at her gravely.

Suddenly, there was a flash of silver. Lydia, Lina, and Rose screamed. Only Violet remained silent, too shocked to even make a sound.

The knight’s sword had easily sliced across Freesia’s belly. She silently slumped to the ground.

Shaking the blood from his blade, the knight turned to the other women. “Under Marquess Ermengart’s orders, we’re to take down the remaining bandits,” he declared.

He had just delivered a death sentence. Freesia’s blood and the women’s shocked screams were indicators that the band of armored men were not about to spare their lives, and there was no point in asking why. As much as the women wanted to argue that they were not part of the bandits, they instinctively knew that they would have no chance to defend themselves against the swords and clubs of these knights.

As they escaped, their hopes rose inside them like loaves of baking bread. But those hopes had quickly deflated, leaving only despair behind.

Lydia was the first to fall victim to a knight’s spear. Hearing her cry, Rose and Lina took off running, not daring to look back. Violet ran after them.

The women fled back to Flower Street, which was now in complete chaos. At that moment, another group of soldiers appeared from within the village. Their armor gleamed red, reflecting the flames.

As the royal soldiers closed in on them from both front and back, the women screamed in terror. The soldiers approaching from the front halted when they spotted the clearly vulnerable women and the little girl.

Seeing their hesitation, the knight on horseback shouted, “What are you doing? Do you refuse to follow our lord’s orders?!”

Some of the soldiers snapped to attention, approaching with their maces raised. Violet felt someone’s arms pull her close, and she was hugged tightly. With a sickening splat, the arms went slack.

She looked up to see who had grabbed her, only to find emptiness where the woman’s head should have been. Violet felt warm blood running down her face. Unable to scream, she froze while the blood from the now-headless body dripped onto her. It was just like when her father had been beheaded.

A scream sounded from somewhere next to her, then an eerie silence fell. Violet looked around. She couldn’t tell which body was Rose and which was Lina. Both of their heads had been crushed and taken clean from their necks. Violet would probably never know who was who, since she was about to die herself.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted to make a sound but could not.

Her heart began to race even faster as she watched the soldier approach her slowly. Imagining how painful it would be for the mace to come down on her head, she could only stare at him unblinkingly. A tear streaked down her cheek.

“Hurry!”

Violet’s head suddenly pounded as if it were about to burst, and her vision went completely white. She thought that she must have already been hit by the mace. Was she in the arms of the Goddess, or was she finally dead?

But the blinding light slowly faded. For some reason, she was not in any pain. As her vision returned, she realized she was still standing in the forest, staring blankly.

The knights’ torches illuminated the bodies of the women sprawled around her. She noticed there was another corpse among them. It was that of the soldier who had raised his mace to kill her after murdering the others. His head had exploded, as if struck by his own mace.

Violet glanced at the soldiers, who looked just as frightened as she was. They stared at one another, unmoving.

From a distance, she heard the galloping of approaching horses, though it was difficult to tell how many. A troop of new soldiers emerged, wearing shining armor. The other knights quickly fell to their knees, looking pale.

“Y-Your Holiness!”

Violet thought she heard mournful laughter somewhere in the distance.

***

One of the Holy Kingdom of Agresia’s oldest myths told the story of a goddess, the being who created everything, and a demon, the creature who hated her and all her creations. The demon made an entity called Malum to curse the Goddess and destroy everything she had created. Scores of knights and soldiers rose up against the Malum, only to fall victim to it time after time.

Darkness descended upon the earth and everything began to die. But this Age of Darkness came to an end when Agresia, the first saint and the messenger of the Goddess, appeared. Always depicted in the paintings as a little girl, Agresia went on to thwart the Malum using her divine authority. She left behind a foreboding prophecy, stating that neither the Goddess nor the evil she battled against would ever give up the fight.

Marquess Ermengart frowned, his head aching. One would think that the people could just disregard the myth as nothing more than a romantic story about the kingdom’s founding. But for countless generations—barring the last 120 years—saints had risen again and again to fight the Malum.

Every few decades, a new saint had appeared. It seemed to be an endless cycle, but it appeared to come to an end when Saint Anastasia defeated the Malum 120 years prior. Since Anastasia’s disappearance, neither a saint nor the Malum had reemerged.

The ones who remembered the saints were not the ruling class, but the holy citizens of the Divine City of Aubert, a city ruled by the pope. Those under the pope’s rule revered him more highly than they did the king. The nobles in the pope’s faction also made donations only to the temple. To them, the kingdom’s real ruler came second.

“Ha, haha…” A man, sitting on a golden throne placed on a platform, began to laugh.

Below the man, Marquess Ermengart continued to frown and exchanged glances with Count Liesel. The marquess wondered what the best course of action would be.

After so many years, a saint had finally appeared within his land, and he was feeling uneasy. The saint was currently in a carriage, being rushed to his mansion in the capital. His people had selected a good horse for the job, so she would be arriving soon.

The coming of a new saint was something to be welcomed, but no one seemed enthused. While the pope’s supporters were lukewarm to the news, the powers that ruled over the capital cursed their horrid luck. The absence of a saint had long preserved the balance between the factions, but now it seemed the scales had tipped slightly in the pope's favor.

The king’s hollow laughter rang across the audience room, where the nobles from the pope’s faction had yet to arrive.

“How wonderful it is that a saint would appear during my reign. Is this not joyous news, Marquess?” the king asked, smiling bitterly. His golden eyes darted around anxiously, but they simultaneously gleamed with fury. “Joyous news indeed… that the Goddess must have abandoned me.”

“Your Majesty!” the marquess warned.

The king’s lips twitched. “She appeared before us so gloriously. We can’t even try to hide her existence, can we? She wears the stigma right on her forehead!” He continued to laugh.

Indeed, the pope’s faction would gain a stronger footing once they had the saint in their possession. While they might not appreciate the diminished prestige, she was just a young girl, ripe for manipulation.

The king had watched his predecessor kneel before the pope, and he had made it his life’s mission to seek vengeance against the holy man. Now, the thirty-fourth saint had arrived.

As the king brooded over whether the Goddess had truly forsaken him, Marquess Ermengart’s blue eyes gleamed.

There might still be a way… “Your Majesty, I have an idea,” the marquess announced.

***

A long time ago, the Goddess’s devotees lived peacefully in the world she had created for them. But the demon could not forgive them for worshiping her, so the evil creature gave rise to a monster as a curse against her and her followers.

The monster, the Malum, killed the devout one by one. Countless lives were lost. Among them were a boy with beautiful blue eyes, a girl wearing a pretty red dress, a king, and the knight who protected him.

Many tried to drive away the Malum. A strong young man, a quick-footed boy, and a wise old man all prayed for the monster’s demise. But none of them could defeat it. They all melted away before they even came face-to-face with the being.

The Goddess took pity on the humans and sent one of her messengers to them. She was not strong, fast, or wise—just a regular little girl, with silver hair that resembled running water and blue eyes like a summer sky. She wore the mark of the Goddess on her forehead.

Nobody thought the girl would be able to defeat the Malum. The powerful men, quick boys, and old sages all laughed at her.

But in the end, she was victorious. The Goddess’s love for the people had won. People rejoiced and built a country where the girl had fought her noble fight. They named the settlement after her—Agresia.

The girl warned that even though the Malum had been defeated, it would not give up. As long as the darkness remained in people’s hearts, it would return again and again. But as long as hope was also in their hearts, the Goddess would never stop protecting them.

True to her word, the Malum appeared whenever it could and would attempt to destroy the humans. And every time it did, the Goddess sent another beautiful girl to save them.

The story Violet’s mother used to tell her remained fresh in her mind. When she thought of it, a gentle hand seemed to stroke her hair tenderly.

After a grueling day of work in the butcher shop, her mother would come home and tell her a variety of stories. Violet’s favorite was the founding story of Agresia, the very country they lived in. It was a fairly standard story about the Goddess’s beautiful messenger, the saint, who saved humanity and still loved the people enough to return once in a while and look after them.

Violet wondered just how noble, beautiful, and angelic the saint might be. She pictured Agresia, with her silver hair flowing like sparkling water and her sky-blue eyes. The smell of raw meat seemed to disappear as she pictured the radiant saint.

Violet twisted around, hoping to look up at her mother’s face as the woman stroked her hair. However, the sight that greeted her instead was Rose, her skull half-crushed. The putrid smell wasn’t that of the butcher shop at all but of fresh human blood.

Violet got up and ran.

“Help me, Violet,” groaned Rose, her once beautiful red hair matted with blood.

Violet staggered away from her before colliding with something.

“Violet…” Despite knowing better at this point, she turned around at the familiar voice.

Lina’s long blond hair dangled down in front of her. When she looked up, the woman was smiling, her mouth slashed wide open.

Violet snapped awake to find that she had been crying. As her head began to clear, she realized she was lying in a bed and wearing soft clothes.

She looked around anxiously. For some reason, her head was still throbbing.

Where am I? She remembered her shock at seeing the bodies of her companions on the ground next to her. The memory made her feel sick.

The events of the night before were beyond anything a ten-year-old girl could comprehend. She had been left more shocked than when the bandits had beheaded her father and violated her mother before killing her as well.

Violet began to weep, not knowing where she was. Then the door suddenly swung open, and a maid entered.

The woman regarded her with shock. “Oh… you’re awake.”

Violet did not dare meet the eyes of the maid, who was dressed in such lovely clothes. The woman looked just like the kind of respectable maid that Lydia had always said she wanted to be. Such women, who worked in the homes of the nobility, acted as though they were nobles themselves. They looked down on the women of Flower Street and threw insults their way.

When Violet looked away from the woman, however, she seemed to grow anxious.

“Wh-where am I?” Violet finally asked quietly.

The maid seemed relieved that she had spoken. “You’re in Marquess Ermengart’s mansion.”

“H-huh?” A marquess? That means this house belongs to an esteemed noble, doesn’t it? Ermengart… Who is that? The name seemed to ring a bell, but she could not remember why.

Violet trembled, still confused. Wondering if she had been abducted again, she shuddered.

“Are you feeling ill, Your Holiness?” the maid asked.

Your Holiness? Violet looked around, trying to find the person worthy of that title. Wait, the saints from the stories Mother told… They’re real, and one of them is here right now? Where? As much as she searched the room, she could spot no one.

“Your Holiness?” the maid asked again.

Violet finally managed to look up at her. The woman had warm brown eyes and a kind face that reminded Violet of her mother.

As the maid gently took the little girl’s trembling hand, Violet finally summoned the courage to speak to her. “A-are you talking to me?”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “I-I’m not a saint. You must be mistaken.” Something has gone terribly wrong. Me, a saint? “I-I couldn’t possibly be. P-please, don’t be mad. I wasn’t trying to deceive anyone. Please…”

The maid looked at her with pity. “Do not say such things, Your Holiness. The Goddess would be furious if she heard you.” She grasped Violet’s hand and helped her down from the bed. “Come, look in the mirror.”

Violet had never seen such a large mirror in her entire life. Even Rose, despite being the house’s most popular girl, only had a small mirror big enough to reflect her face alone. Just looking at the mirror, with its delicately carved gold frame, frightened the little girl.

She looked fearfully at the maid, who merely smiled and pointed at the mirror. After taking a cautious glance into it, Violet screamed and slumped to the ground.

Something was wrong with her hair and face. No, everything was wrong.

Violet’s hair was supposed to be an average brown. Everyone told her it was beautiful because it looked almost blond in the sunlight, but it was a color one could see just about anywhere. Now, however, it had turned completely white. Looking more closely, she quickly realized that it was not white, but rather a clear and bright silver, as if it was spun from actual metal.

She raised her hand to her head nervously. Indeed, she had felt only a moment ago that something strange was going on, but she never could have imagined that her hair had changed color.

Her eyes were different as well. Her father had named her Violet because of her purple eyes. Now, the color was all but gone, leaving only clear blue in its place. Though she could still see the traces of violet if she squinted, her eyes were overwhelmingly blue.

For a moment, the shock of her new appearance rendered her unable to breathe. “What is going on?” she asked.

“Look.” The maid gently pushed Violet’s bangs from her forehead.

Violet held her breath as she stared at her reflection. On her forehead, there was a mark—blue in color, consisting of a dot and three petal-like shapes. She recognized it as the symbol that adorned the robes that priests wore. But why is it on my forehead? Frightened, she tried to rub it off, only to leave her forehead reddened.

“This is the stigma,” the maid explained.

Violet stared at it in disbelief. Hadn’t the Goddess abandoned her? She stared at the mirror for a long time, considering that the sudden change in her appearance and the mark on her forehead could only be some horrible omen.

She broke down in tears while the maid tried to hug and console her. Then the door swung open.

“Fynn! Get Her Holiness changed!”

“What?”

“His Majesty has ordered that Her Holiness be taken to the palace!”

“When she just arrived in the capital? She only just woke up!”

The capital? I’m in the capital? Violet was shocked. It felt like only a moment ago that she had been on Flower Street, so how did she get to the capital so quickly?

“We have no choice. Excuse me, Your Holiness!”

Before Violet could stop sniffling, her clothes were already being tugged off. She held back stronger tears, as the maid clearly seemed frustrated. Her clothes were swiftly changed and her hair tied up neatly.

Violet sniffled again.

“Oh dear. Please, stop crying. You’re going to see His Majesty,” the new maid chided.

“Don’t snap at her, Eveline,” the maid who had comforted her said.

“Jeez. This girl is clearly from Flower Street. You’d think she’d know not to cry at a time like this. I mean, we’ll be the ones in trouble if she’s late,” Eveline complained.

Unable to calm her colleague, Fynn tried instead to comfort Violet. “Your Holiness, please don’t cry,” she said as she stroked the little girl’s hair. She strongly reminded Violet of her mother.

As if she understood the fear in Violet’s eyes, Fynn pulled the little girl’s head against her into a hug. “It’s going to be fine. You’re the most precious person in this kingdom, after all,” she said.

Violet finally stopped crying when it came time to climb into the carriage, but she never let go of Fynn’s hand. She had never ridden in a carriage before.

A scary man stood guard at Violet’s side. Upon seeing his armor, she was reminded of Rose and Lina’s fate. She hid behind the kind maid’s skirt.

She did not understand what was going on. It was as though she was frozen in place while everything else continued to move around her, like she was stranded all alone on a small rock as large waves threatened to crash over her. If she made one step in any direction, she might be swept away.

Sitting in the carriage, she realized that her new clothes were made of layers of flowing fabric. They were really quite uncomfortable.