The day Clare was born,

 the skies over the continent of Mythros were said to have glimmered with an unusual light. Villagers whispered that it was a blessing from the goddess Kuzunoha herself. Born as the first child to humble farmers who lived near the Temple of the Ninefold Path, Clare’s arrival was marked by both joy and uncertainty.

Her parents’ joy, however, was short-lived. An illness swept through their village when Clare was just an infant, taking both her mother and father. Left orphaned, Clare was brought to the temple by neighbors who believed that the blessing on her birth connected her to the goddess. During a sacred ceremony, the head priest declared Clare to be no ordinary child. She was a saintess, chosen by Kuzunoha herself—an honor that placed her under the temple’s care.

Clare’s early years were spent within the temple walls, which were home to an order of women devoted entirely to the worship of Kuzunoha and the cultivation of martial arts. Though her health remained delicate, her bright smile and curious nature won the hearts of the attendants. From the moment she could walk, she was drawn to the sacred Lake of Nine Streams, often toddling down the path with the attendants chasing after her. The women of the sect, though disciplined warriors, found Clare’s curiosity endearing, a rare moment of softness in their otherwise rigorous lives.

"She feels the pull of the lake’s energy," Sister Aya often remarked. "It’s a sign of her bond with the goddess."

Towering above the temple grounds were red torii gates, vivid and striking against the green hills. They marked the transition from the mortal realm to the sacred domain of the goddess Kuzunoha. Clare loved walking beneath them, feeling as though she was stepping closer to something divine.

By the time Clare was five, her days were filled with lessons on the teachings of Kuzunoha and the principles of the Ninefold Path. The sect’s martial training was woven into these lessons, with the women demonstrating techniques that seemed to defy the laws of nature, from walking on water to splitting boulders with a single palm strike. Though her body was weak, her mind was sharp, and she quickly absorbed the wisdom passed down by the priests and priestesses. Yet, even at such a young age, she could feel the weight of her divine blessing.

"Why am I different?" Clare had asked one evening as she sat by the lake with Sister Aya.

The older woman had smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from Clare’s face. "Because the goddess has plans for you, Clare. Being chosen isn’t always easy, but it’s a gift that will guide you to your purpose."

As Clare grew older, the responsibilities of her role became more apparent. At ten years old, she began participating in minor temple rituals, lighting incense and chanting prayers alongside the other attendants. Though her body was frail, she marveled at the older women, who could move with such speed and precision that their movements blurred like a fleeting shadow. The effort often left her exhausted, but she persevered, determined to fulfill her duties.

By fourteen, Clare had taken on a greater role in the temple’s ceremonies. During these years, she also began practicing the most basic forms of martial arts, though she struggled to master even the simplest movements. The sect’s warriors encouraged her, saying that her connection to Kuzunoha would guide her in time. Despite her fragile health, she would stand before the congregation, her voice steady and clear as she recited prayers. The villagers revered her, believing her to be the living embodiment of Kuzunoha’s will.

Now, at eighteen, Clare knelt before the sacred altar, the soft glow of candles casting shadows across her face. Her hands trembled slightly as she recited the morning prayers, her voice soft and reverent in the quiet temple. "Oh divine Kuzunoha, protector of the Kitsune and guide to lost souls, bless us and lead us along the Ninefold Path."

As soon as she finished, Clare fell forward onto her hands. Her breath came in short, heavy gasps. The ceremonial robes she wore felt impossibly heavy, and the effort of completing the prayers left her drained. While she wasn’t sickly, Clare lacked the strength and stamina others her age took for granted. She hated feeling like a burden, even though the other temple attendants were kind when they stepped in to help her.

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"Clare, are you alright?" a gentle voice called from the doorway. Clare looked up to see Sister Aya, standing there with a warm expression.

Clare forced a small smile. "I’m fine, Sister Aya. Just a little tired."

Aya frowned slightly but didn’t push. "You should rest more. The temple’s work is important, but your health matters too."

"I can’t rest," Clare replied, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "The goddess needs us to keep the temple pure. If I don’t do my part, I—"

"The goddess understands your limits," Aya interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "Even she wouldn’t ask you to push yourself too far."

Clare lowered her gaze to the polished wooden floor. Deep down, she knew Aya was right. Still, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling of failure weighing heavily on her. The temple had always been her sanctuary, and serving Kuzunoha, who had chosen her as her saintess, was everything to her. The idea of letting anyone down, especially the goddess, filled her with guilt.

The rest of the day crawled by, each hour a reminder of Clare’s struggles. While the other attendants handled larger tasks—preparing offerings and cleaning the temple grounds—Clare was often given simpler duties. Despite her divine blessing, her lack of physical stamina meant she couldn't manage heavier work. She spent most of the afternoon arranging flowers for the altar, her hands trembling slightly as she placed each bloom in its proper spot.

"Beautiful," she murmured when she was done. The arrangement of red, white, and gold flowers—colors sacred to Kuzunoha—seemed to glow in the sunlight streaming through the temple doors.

As evening fell, the sky turned shades of orange and purple. Clare joined the other maidens for the evening prayers. The sound of the temple’s bells echoed through the hills, their deep tones blending with the harmonious chanting of the maidens. Clare closed her eyes, her soft voice rising and falling with theirs.

That night, Clare couldn’t sleep. She lay on her simple sleeping mat, her eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling of her small room. The faint sound of wind chimes outside her window filled the silence, but it did little to ease her restless mind.

Sitting up, she glanced at the small altar in the corner of her room. A statuette of Kuzunoha rested there, showing the goddess in her fox form with nine elegant tails flowing behind her. Clare crawled over to the altar, kneeling on the tatami mat, and clasped her hands in prayer.

"Goddess Kuzunoha," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Please, give me strength. Not for my own sake, but so I can serve you better."

For a moment, the room felt warmer, as though an unseen presence had entered. Clare’s heart raced, and she held her breath, waiting for a sign or a response. But after a few moments, the warmth faded, leaving her alone in the stillness of the night. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she bowed her head. "I’m sorry," she murmured. "I just want to do more."

The next few days passed without incident, but Clare couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. The temple’s atmosphere seemed heavier, as if it were waiting for something to happen. Sister Aya and the others went about their routines as usual, but Clare felt it deep inside—a quiet, unexplainable tension.

When evening arrived, Clare was lighting the lanterns along the temple’s pathway when she noticed a strange glow coming from the sacred lake of Nine Streams. The women of the sect often said the lake’s energy strengthened their techniques, allowing them to achieve feats such as channeling chi into their strikes or leaping impossibly high. The lake, a gift from Kuzunoha herself, was said to hold divine energy within its waters. Curiosity pulled her closer, the flickering light from her lantern casting long shadows along the path.

The glow grew brighter as she approached, and the water rippled even though there was no breeze. Kneeling at the edge of the lake, Clare peered into its surface. Her reflection stared back at her, but for a brief moment, she thought she saw something else—a pair of golden eyes watching her from beneath the water.

A chill ran down her spine, but before she could react, the glow disappeared, and the lake became still once more. Clare blinked, her heart racing.

"Was that... a sign?" she whispered to herself.

The sacred lake was no ordinary body of water. Its divine energy formed the heart of the sect’s teachings. Known as the Lake of Nine Streams, it symbolized the core principles of the Ninefold Path—discipline, compassion, resilience, wisdom, humility, devotion, balance, harmony, and transcendence.

The lake’s shimmering waters were said to be infused with Kuzunoha’s own essence, a gift bestowed upon her followers to guide them in their cultivation journey. Legends spoke of disciples achieving enlightenment after meditating by its shores, their chi and spiritual energy aligning perfectly within the divine aura of the lake.

The sect’s history revolved around the lake, with every major milestone and ceremony tied to its waters. Many believed it served as a direct conduit to Kuzunoha’s power, bridging the mortal and divine realms.

For generations, the lake had been a source of inspiration and reverence, its mysteries fueling both awe and determination among the sect’s disciples.

Shaking off her unease, Clare turned and hurried back to the temple, her thoughts racing. The strange encounter left her feeling both unsettled and hopeful. Perhaps, she thought, her prayers had finally been heard.