The morning of my third day began not with sunlight—but with mist.
A pale fog blanketed Hue Shrine’s eastern gardens, crawling low across the temple stones like the breath of some great sleeping beast. It was strange, how the quiet felt heavier than usual. As if the world was bracing itself.
Inside the training hall, Matron Elaris was waiting.
Today’s lesson was unlike the others. There were no glowing exercises or healing practice. Instead, she led us to the inner sanctum of the Magical Arts wing—a place the other lightmaidens whispered about but had never entered.
The Chamber of Inheritance.
Carved into the heart of the shrine, its walls bore murals in faded golds and silvers. Each one depicted a Saintess in different eras—hands raised, eyes closed, their magic forming halos of light. But something was wrong.
In every image… the Saintess stood alone.
Matron Elaris lit a crystal orb in the center of the room. Her voice echoed softly off the chamber walls.
"Today, we study not only magic… but memory."
She turned to us, eyes sharp.
"What do you know of the Saintesses who came before?"
Meris raised a hand. "That they vanished before they reached twenty. And that none ever married or grew old."
Elaris nodded. "Yes. Vanished… as if their light burned too brightly for this world."
I felt a chill trace my spine.
"They were revered," she continued. "Praised, worshipped, feared. But not one Saintess in the history of our Empire lived a full life after fulfilling her duties."
She looked straight at me.
"The truth, Seraphina, is that Light Magic is a blessing... and a burden. The deeper you reach into it, the more of yourself it consumes. It may cleanse the world… but what remains of you afterward is uncertain."
My breath caught.
Was this the reason for my vision?
The screams. The pain. My end?
Later, as the others left, I lingered behind.
"Matron," I asked, "what happens if a Saintess refuses to follow what history has dictated?"
Her gaze softened. "Then she must be stronger than every Saintess before her. She must forge a new path, no matter how the gods or the crown resist it."
I clenched my fists.
I would be that Saintess.
That afternoon, I was summoned to the Shrine’s private tea room.
Celesti was waiting there, robed in twilight hues, her expression unreadable.
She didn’t speak at first—only gestured for me to sit. Then, she poured two cups of chamomile tea and placed one before me.
When she finally spoke, her voice was grim.
"Word has reached us from Kahelle Dukedom."
I straightened.
"The Erosion?"
She nodded.
"It has crept past the border villages. Livestock are dying. Wells turning dark. Children falling ill. The Duke of Kahelle has reached out. He requests an audience… and your aid."
I swallowed. "But I haven’t finished training—"
"I know," she said quietly. "But the world does not wait for perfection, Seraphina. Sometimes, it demands action long before we are ready."
I looked down at my tea, watching the surface ripple with the tremble of my hands.
Celesti continued, gentler now. "You have three days left in the Shrine. Finish what you can. Then, we ride."
I met her eyes.
"I will go," I said. "But not just to heal. I want to see what this Erosion truly is. I want to understand what I’m fighting."
A small, proud smile touched her lips. "Then you're already braver than most rulers in the Empire."
That night, I returned to my chamber and stared at the ceiling long into the night.
I was not just a healer.
Not just a symbol.
I was a Saintess who would not vanish quietly.
Let the darkness come. I would rise to meet it—with light, with steel, and with the will to survive.
Even if fate itself tried to erase me.
Comments (0)
See all