Ellie sat by the fountain in the Academy’s courtyard, watching the sunlight filter through the vines that crept up the old stone walls. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the nearby garden, but she couldn’t shake the unease that had settled over her like a cloak.

Two weeks. That was how long it had been since Eloise first appeared in the capital, sweeping in like a savior out of the old myths. In that time, the impossible had happened: patients who had been lost to the mysterious illness were waking. One by one, the afflicted stirred from their comas, their magic slowly returning, though they remained weak.

Ellie leaned forward, staring at the rippling water of the fountain as if it might offer some answer. "I should be relieved," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I am relieved. Aren’t I?"

But even as the words left her lips, she knew they rang hollow. Eloise moved among the afflicted like a figure from legend, her hands alight with divine energy, her touch seemingly capable of healing where magic had failed.

“They’re calling her The Saintess of Light now.” Ellie looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if she might feel that same divine power coursing through her veins. “People whisper her name like she’s more than human.”

The words felt bitter on her tongue, though she wasn’t sure why. Was it jealousy? No—Ellie didn’t want that kind of attention, nor the burden that came with it. But there was something about Eloise, about the way she moved through the city with an almost ethereal grace, that unsettled her. Something wasn’t right.

A shadow passed over her, and Ellie glanced up to see Elladora striding across the courtyard, her robes fluttering around her. She had been absent for days, returning only the night before, though she hadn’t said where she’d been.

Elladora moved with her usual grace, but there was a tension to her now, something taut and simmering beneath the surface. Ellie had seen it before—Elladora was not someone who wore her emotions plainly, but when she was troubled, there was always a tightness to her movements, like the coiling of a spring.

Ellie stood and crossed the courtyard to meet her, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "You’ve been gone for awhile, did you find anything?"

Elladora paused, her gaze flicking to Ellie, and for a brief moment, something inscrutable passed across her face—was it concern? Amusement? Ellie couldn’t tell. Elladora’s eyes always held too many layers, too many secrets.

"Nothing useful." Elladora glanced toward the academy’s entrance, where a group of students were gathered, their voices low with whispers about Eloise. "It seems I’ve returned to quite the spectacle, though."

Ellie shifted, unease curling in her chest. "You’ve heard about Eloise, then."

"Saintess Eloise." Elladora tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Ellie’s expression. "The people do love their miracles, don’t they? So much easier to put faith in something bright and holy than in the slow, methodical work of reason."

Ellie frowned. "But she’s—" She stopped herself, uncertain of what to say. Healing seemed too simple a word. "The patients are recovering, Elladora. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Sir Alric, the others... they’re awake. How do we argue with that?"

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Elladora’s lips quirked into a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "Ah, but my dear Ellie, that is the question, isn’t it? How do we argue with results? Especially when they’re wrapped in such a convenient package as divine grace?"

She turned, walking toward the shaded side of the courtyard, and Ellie found herself following, as she often did when Elladora slipped into one of her cryptic moods.

"There’s something you’re not saying," Ellie pressed, keeping her voice low as they moved out of earshot of the students. "If you have doubts about Eloise, tell me. Don’t just play games."

Elladora stopped, her gaze sweeping the courtyard before she spoke again, her voice dropping into a near whisper. "True miracles don’t look like this."

Ellie blinked, confusion knotting her brow. "What do you mean?"

Elladora sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "I’ve seen miracles, Ellie. Real ones. They are rare, unpredictable, and often come with a cost. They don’t parade through the streets like a carnival, healing everyone in sight and leaving the world better and brighter for it. What we’re seeing... it’s too neat. Too perfect. And perfection, in my experience, is always an illusion."

Ellie stared at her, unsure of how to respond. "So... you think Eloise is a fraud?"

Elladora’s smile returned, but this time there was something dangerous in it. "Oh, I don’t doubt she has power. Real power. But power and truth are not the same thing. False prophets always cloak themselves in the trappings of the divine. It’s how they gain trust, how they make people believe. The question isn’t whether Eloise can heal. It’s why she’s doing it—and at what cost."

The words sent a chill through Ellie. She had never heard Elladora speak this way before, with such veiled urgency. Normally, Elladora’s tone was one of detached amusement, even when things were serious. But now, there was something darker lurking in her words, something Ellie couldn’t ignore.

"Why haven’t you said anything?" Ellie asked, her voice tight with the weight of the question. "If you think she’s dangerous—"

"I don’t know that yet," Elladora interrupted, her voice sharp. "I need more than a suspicion. And so do you."

Ellie hesitated. She didn’t want to believe that Eloise was anything other than what she claimed to be. The people needed hope. She could feel that need in every glance cast her way, every hushed conversation in the hallways. The kingdom was hanging by a thread, and Eloise had become the lifeline they clung to.

"Maybe..." Ellie began, struggling to find the words. "Maybe she’s really here to help. The people are desperate. They need something to believe in."

Elladora laughed softly, but there was no warmth in it. "Desperation makes us blind, Ellie. It makes us see what we want to see." She turned toward the distant spires of the palace, her gaze faraway. "I’ve seen this before. The false savior who promises everything, gives just enough to be believed... and then takes it all back. Sometimes more."

Ellie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She wanted to dismiss Elladora’s words as paranoia, the kind of cynical outlook she often carried when others were filled with hope. But something about the way Elladora spoke—the weight of her tone, the haunted look in her eyes—made it hard to dismiss.

“What do I do?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

Elladora rose, her eyes still fixed on the students, but her voice soft when she finally spoke. “Watch. Listen. And when the time comes, trust your instincts.” She gave Ellie one last look, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the academy, leaving Ellie alone with her doubts.

Ellie stared at the fountain, watching the water ripple and swirl, the sunlight casting flickers of light across its surface.

Trust your instincts.

Ellie closed her eyes, feeling the weight of those words settle over her. Something was wrong. She could feel it, even if she couldn’t see it yet. Eloise might be healing people, but at what cost?