The consecrated steel did not meet its target. Before my very eyes, my father, my champion, my general, failed as the heretic’s blade sliced into his armor. The man stumbled, age and iron driving his knees into the mud. The first rule of knight was to never relinquish your blade… and yet his fingers failed. The blade fell, drowning in the muck. The heretic stood behind him, and demanded that the man surrender. That his trial be ratified, as per the law of my order. His eyes turned to me, his blade lowering to the man’s neck.
I, as the Commander of my Order, raised my hand and pronounced the Trial of Blade sanctified. “As the Goddess wills it,” my lips pursed about each phoneme, the poison on my tongue evident with each hiss. As the Goddess wills it? How could the Goddess will such a thing?
The heretic pulled his blade away, sheathing it as the rain began to drop again. He took a moment to scan the faces of the paladins that surrounded him… before he leaned down, and whispered something in my father’s ear. His eyes widened, his body lurching, his fingers scrambling for his sword, only for his body to sag. A cry swelled in my throat as the great General fell, his men charging forward to support him.
I leaped forth with a very different intent. I did not even realize I had charged, not till my snarl reached my gaze, and the heretic’s lapel was in my hands. I had hefted the man clear of the muck, his shoes dangling as the rain set in. The man’s lips had not moved into the smile of victory I had come to recognize as the self-assured ego of one who abandoned both faith and humanity.
“You’re no different from him,” he hissed. “You plan on sullying her name?”
Whatever else he had to say, it was lost as a crack of thunder resonated through the keep. The heretic had managed to reach the inner halls of the Holy Eye, the center of all the Faithful. Solasta, the ever watchful light, had been blinded by a thick blanket of clouds. No wonder she had allowed the cretin in my arms to win a holy trial.
But just hearing those first words roused within me my honor, my code. I released the heretic, and ordered my retainers to see him to a proper room for the evening. He had earned his freedom, and the right to a medical examination. In the morn, he would finally be set free, and we would be rid of his menace.
From the state my father was in, it was clear that I would have to say his name. “Halt,” I turned to face the man as he was lead away, the rain starting to sluice down his features. “What did you say your name was?”
“Henri,” the mercenary replied. “No last name.”
“I cannot commute your sentence without a family name,” my stern gaze held upon him. Henri- a famous name amongst the heretical brand. Named after Henri Sussel, the first Summoner who acknowledged the Goddess’ truth, and through his faith, earned the first pardon a heretic had ever received.
Despite the mercy he was shown, however, his descendents revealed the inherent evils of magic, forcing the Order of the Sun to properly purge them once and for all- the Crusade my father had taken upon and fulfilled in the name of Her Grace.
I could already tell what the punchline would be to his foul joke… but he had the mercy to not give voice to it. The spite in my gaze must have been enough to ward off his tart response as he started to trudge through the mud.
—-
“Starlit Mother,” my voice echoed through the pews, the thundering cascade of rain echoing through the empty hall. Before me stood a monument to the Goddess in all her glory. Marbled wreathed with veins of gold from the base of craft, the stone manipulated and lovingly carved into a flowing robe of starlit night. Her visage was crowned with a radiating circle of gold. This was the Goddess Solasta in her most glorious.
“Forgive my… discomforting words,” I took a moment to ensure I was alone with her. I was alone… with my faith. “But my father lays ill, bested by a man accused of grave crimes against you and your faithful. He accused my Order of… profanity and yet… beneath your gaze, his blade stayed true… while my father’s…” I dared not give voice to the fears of my heart. Though I had only known him but a scant twenty years of my life, he was the man I looked up to. The man who guided me. To admit his age had finally come to claim him… he had yet to see my rise to my heights. My debt to him was too great to abandon here. “Please… see him through this. I ask for nothing more than the grace of your mercy.”
The rain was all that met my ears.
Each drop resounded through the hall, as I waited to hear from her. Waiting for my sincerity to be rewarded. My eyes were closed as I repeated the prayer I had memorized throughout my childhood. A hymn of mercy and patience. A promise of faith, no matter what tide may come. When I next opened my eyes, I became aware that I was not alone. The man that sat upon a pew not far behind me was dressed ornately, his hat massive upon his head. He smiled gently, and nodded. He had patience enough for me to finish my prayer.
I still rose from my kneel. My knees were sore, my knuckles creased from the fervent prayer I offered. “Father Magimus,” I offered a bow, but the man raised his hand.
“Think nothing of it, Meredith,” the man’s voice soothed my hasty response to his appearance. His lips were still curled in that comforting smile of his. “I can tell a great deal weighs upon you.”
“Yes… Father, the General, he…” I started, my tongue starting and stopping in my mouth, blood pumping through my head as I struggled to correct myself… but the man stood from his seat, and placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder.
“Relax, dear. Just breathe. The Goddess would not leave her most ardent of followers bereft of her light,” the man insisted… before pausing. “Though, it does surprise me to find you here, rather than by your father’s side.”
“The healers… dismissed me. Ordered me to find some solace and comfort in their efforts, and rest… while I can.”
“Ah… I see,” the man paused… before striding past me. “Your father… he is a dear friend of mine,” his voice grew faint, almost tinged with an ounce of regret. “He would probably not say the same of me,” he turned with a lighter smile, and deadpan conjecture. “But he thought the world of you. Trusted you with everything he knew,” the man stepped up to the statue, and placed a genteel hand upon the Goddess’ worn feet. Congregants often showed their respect by placing their hands upon her toes- a deferential sign of great respect. “I’m sorry to say that… I had not done the same,” the man insisted. “But I saw the way you composed yourself after that duel… You are shaping up to be someone worthy of that trust. I’m sorry I had not seen it till now. I think you’re ready. Come with me,” he gestured.
As he did, a loud click echoed through the hall. The statue before me began to turn, her body spinning and rising to reveal a well beneath her. I stood there, stunned as the dias rose, arches forming door way, and unveiling the steps below.
“The key to your father’s survival… I have something just for him. But I will need a hand,” the aging Father held out his hand. “My knees just aren’t what they used to be.”
—
Our long descent in the depths below was only interrupted by the man’s anecdotes about the past. “Time was, we had a platform that would rise and fall. Alas, the magic we used to raise… faded with time. I never truly appreciated it… till now,” the man chuckled as he shambled down the stairs, one hand placed upon my forearm for support. We were close to the end now, at least given the light. “Ah, we’re here,” the Father stepped upon the floor at the base of the pit. If I had to venture a guess, we were at the deepest depths of the Eye, past even the dungeons we caged the Heretics in.
A massive stone door stood before me. Too large for any man, any beast I had fought in the name of the Inquisition. Summoned monsters- the Heretics used their rituals to chain, bind and pervert the nature of the world’s beast to meet their unholy ends. I had cleaved through many a creature bound in their chains, each almost thankful to be released from their hellish bonding. The man raised his hand, before turning to me. “With me Meredith. The prayer works best with a duet.” I stepped up, my heart hammering against my chest, and placed my hand across from his, a door resting beneath each of our palms. The man began to recite psalm, one that my tongue began to recite, slowly adjusting my tone and tenor to match his… for a moment, I was twelve again, doing my recitations in his study… back when my father was convinced that I would make a serviceable nun, maybe even an Abbess. He had not known my passion for the blade, though he knew of my keen interest.
I had chosen a path that defied him, and yet I wished to show him all I could achieve. This was the life the goddess had afforded me after all, and I could not help but wish to see that was more than worthy of her grace and his name. As we hit the prayer at the end of it, the door began to part, stone grinding against stone as I was given a chance to see what lay within.
Light flooded my vision, at first blinding before slowly ebbing away, giving way to volume, then shape, then color… before me hung a woman, her hair aglow, but her hands and feet nailed by massive golden spikes, and her body chained in thick black iron. The tools… of the heretics were being used to bind this woman to a massive column. The light that caressed my skin was golden, light. That ache in my ankle seemed to fade away, my armor felt… lighter. A myth came to mind… a story heretics would whisper of. Of the goddess when she walked beside her faithful, more a guide than a goddess. A twisted, heretical interpretation of the shepherd of all light… yet seeing this woman there, her skin bared and bitten by chains of night, a thick black blindfold bound tight about her eyes…
Was there… a hint of truth to it all?
The Father smiled, striding forward. “Come now Meredith. We must take what we can. Your father has spent too long without her- he’ll need more of her to properly regain his strength.
“... What?” the word slipped from my lips, as the man huffed and puffed his way to the… captured woman. My legs began to stiffen as I made to follow the man, the shadows of my doubt sharper into the face of such brilliant light.
The man did not immediately answer. He approached her, the glint of glass teasing my eye as he raised a vial beneath her toes… and he twisted the stake that pinned her ankles to the column. Her scream tore at me, a fear setting in as her blood began to flow from her wound. It was red, but far too red to be called blood. It shimmered, as if it were a liquid of jewels, all flowing down her feet and into the vial.
I felt my stomach constrict. My dinner had been light, yet still it threatened to escape. “S-STOP!” I felt the command tear through my throat as the man finished his foul ritual, lifting the vial and shaking it beneath the light the woman’s glowing hair provided. “I-It can’t be…” I felt the doubt rouse from my lips.
“Of course it’s not her,” the Father said, still sounding patient, still gentle. “Our Goddess would take on so simple form, would she?” the man pulled out another vial. “Come child, get the one in her wrists.” He sounded so distant… yet I was standing just behind him now.
“Then… what is she?” I asked.
“A gift. From the heavens. A holy maiden,” the man insisted, not turning to face me. As if he had told this lie before. As if he had conned…
“How many have… been here…. Has father been here?” I trembled, the doubt beginning to gnaw at me. All I learned, all I believed… all the lies I had consumed…
“Of course he has… he needed the strength to perform his duty… just as you do,” the man turned, the vial in his hand bright as ruby… “The goddess’ light burns bright within our souls… but our bodies can barely keep up. With this, we can truly embrace our duties to her,” he pressed the vial into my hands. “Drink it sparingly, and only moments of true desperation,” he cautioned me, as if advising a patient on when to take her medicine. The sickening proposition gnawed at me from within as he began to fill the next. “Our Goddess’s light shines brightest in the darkest of moments after all-”
Before he could finish his statement, the air sizzled. The hairs at the back of my neck rose. I recognized that sound… the sound of portal opening. A Heretic! I twisted my head about to the door, only to find the heretic standing there… and by his side, leaning upon a crutch… my father.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
—
“MEREDITH!” the General’s voice called across the catacomb. “GET AWAY!”
My muscles moved to obey, though my mind was a mess. I did not see a beast- instead the Father’s shoulder shattered, as if cleaved by a massive blade. His blood splattered upon the dias, accentuating just how different the woman’s blood was from that of an ordinary man’s. His scream felt almost pitiful compared to the bound woman’s, like a babe with freshly soiled linens.
I am completely serious about the jumbled mess of thoughts my mind was crammed with.
My father’s hobbled lurch towards me was outpaced, however, as the Heretic stood between us.
“Out of the way Su-”
“Hold there,” the heretic’s voice echoed, a poison in his own tongue that matched mine just a morning ago. “Who do you serve?”
“She’s never had a drop of Solasta’s bloo-”
“What’s she holding then?”
His eyes were cast down, settling upon my hand. I only then realized what I had gripped in my desperation for understanding- the vial full of ruby-red blood. I raised it up to my eyes, before my vision began to swim. At first I thought I had been struck from behind… but then first trace of liquid arched down my cheek. “Dad…” I said, the word strangling in my throat, the void in my stomach starting to swallow me whole. Before my knees buckled, my Father rushed forward, his hands wrapping about me.
“Forgive me child… forgive me… I…” he held me close, balancing against me as his crutched toppled aside. “I couldn’t bear it… the thought of you knowing…”
“It’s not her… it can’t be her…” my fears burst forth, begging the man to comfort me, to swaddle me once more. But the man could not offer such comfort. I was far too large for him anyways.
I opened my eyes to find the heretic standing there, unable to take his eyes away from the scene.
When he did, his body lurched forward towards the body that was bound upon the pillar.
But he was too late.
As I turned back, I realized that the Father had not been properly killed. Instead with a surge of strength he grasped the woman’s thigh and bit in. His jaws seized down, the woman’s scream tearing through my sanity again as he tore through a chunk of her flesh in ravenous desperation. —--
“Take this,” the heretic’s voice cut through the horror. He held in his hands a blade. A knife, likely the one he used in his duel. “Now,” he insisted, pressing it into my free hand, the warm vial still clenched in my other. His gaze turned back to the wretch Father as he turned, chin dripping with the ruby red blood.
“Heretic. I see the Inquisition’s let you loose after all,” he spoke… despite his shattered arm. Before my eyes, a miracle began to partake, and yet I could not feel the grace of the Goddess in any of his movements. His back straightened, the wrinkles of time slowly unwinding into unblemish flesh. His hair began to grow full and bright, as his muscles began to swell. The cut that should have killed him began to heal, sinew knitting and winding as he recovered. And despite the obvious discomfort the transformation should have caused him, the man seemed quiet… assured. Confident and yet still faithful.
“A shame, but an expected one.”
“I won by their rules. And they are nothing if not… dogmatic,” the heretic answered him.
“And General? What brings you here? You swore you would never seek the Goddess’ Guidance again,” the revivified Father turned to my own. I stood straight as I felt the man lean against me, acting as his crutch.
“The heretic reminded me of a certain clan,” my father adjusted himself.
“Yes… the Sussel line,” the Father’s eyes turned to me. “Hair red as rust. Eyes dark as a starless void. How fortunate you are- she did not inherit a drop of their fetid blood.”
My eyes turned to the heretic. His hair was indeed red, but his eyes were a shade lighter than the Sussels I had… butchering the past. But by the time my thoughts turned back to his words, I realized my father’s fist had turned white with his rage, his muscles tensing.
“In…herit?”
“Meredith, I…”
“Not now you two,” the heretic cut in.
“What, afraid you’re not the last?” Magimus scoffed at the Heretic’s interjection. “Afraid your wretched bloodline will continue on, even after we’re finished here? Afraid that more children will be born with skills like yours and suffer the consequences?” The heretic took a steadying breath, but he did not answer. Only now did I realize he was unarmed.
Instead I heard the sizzle of air once again- a portal was opening. I turned, eyes dancing about, instinct taking over as I expected a beast to pounce us from somewhere, anywhere. Magimus tensed, his muscles taut and ready to strike, his own eyes darting left and right, expecting a beast to strike from the deep shadows the columns behind us cast.
Instead, the chain behind him snapped, the night black links splintered and shattered.
—
The goddess’ body slumped as the chains clattered upon the ground, the Father twisting back to ensure his… prize was still there. The very thought sickened me, but seeing her form dangling there, held only by the spikes in her wrist and ankles roused that bile far faster than knowing that her flesh was the source of Magimus’ power… and power of…
“Run. Merry, run,” my father’s voice echoed in my ears.
With a roar, the man charged forward, first to grab his discarded crutch, and then to strike the man. A scream echoed in my ears as I tried to reach after him, only for my legs to stumble. My balance was failing me. The very floor itself felt wet, fluid, as if sucking upon my heels as I stumbled back. The heretic did not seem as phased. He charged after my father, intercepting Magimus’ strike by gripping the man’s arm and pulling him back. As they scuffled, I held my knife, still struggling to piece together the madness of it all.
Magimus’ body twisted and turned, his lack of experience in combat evident in how easily my father’s crutch kept his legs from balancing properly. I knew of the heretic’s skill personally. I tried to will my legs to move back… but… then my eyes turned to the Goddess of the Sun. Dangling there. Half alive, if life held any meaning for a creature like her.
When I compelled myself forward, it was a far easier ordeal.
As the three wrestled, Magimus still unadjusted to having a body that actually… moved properly, I found myself slinking along in the shadows, every fiber of my honor withering at the thought of such… subterfuge. But there was a life at stake, and I could not risk the eyes of Magimus falling upon us. As I pressed my back against the column, I had to force my eyes from closing completely, the locks of bright light preventing me from seeing anything further. I reached out, pressing my hand against where I thought her arm was meant to.
What I felt in my hands was no arm. No, it was naught but bone. Her muscles were but dust, veins little more than dried capillaries. The sensations in my stomach returned, but I kept my focus on the task at hand.
That was where my strengths lay.
My other hand stretched up, fingers angling, reaching for a certain handle. The spike was warm to the touch, my digits gripping on, as I whispered into the goddess’ ear, “I’m sorry.”
And then I pulled. My whole body twisted into the effort as I drew all my weight into the act. But the goddess’ scream… did not reach my ear. I could not see her face, but I could feel what muscles she had stretching as she thrashed in pain. “Please,” I whispered, “hold on, I almost have you,” I insist. Unable to think of anything better, swung my leg about the column, and postured myself over, straddling her writhing form as I pulled with all my strength. It was only then that it loose. The withered form collapsed against me as the spike came loose, her hands dangling free as I fell back. My back hit the dias, as the goddess fell atop me, her withered form as light as a few stones, as I turned to find all the combatants staring back at us.
—-
Her body lay upon mine. Her breaths were desperate, rasping, a desperate wheeze escaping from with each exhalation. But from behind me, I could hear a cry of rage. “UNHAND HER HEATHEN!” Magimus’ voice echoed in my head, but my arms clung to her nonetheless. A part of me wondered how I could have considered her to be so divine with her form so frail. With my eyes shut, I could feel it- the dim flicker of light that still lay within her.
“It’s ok,” my voice echoed with the words I wished I could be graced with. “You’ll be fine,” I said again, as if she were a victim of a heretic. Perhaps she was. Perhaps I was as well. But blind to the fight behind him, I had no choice but to continue my struggle. I picked myself, the Goddess’ voice a dry rasp, as if she were trying to echo my words. The content of her speech mattered little now- clasping my hands around her, I began to push her back against the column, hands groping in the dark of my lids, reaching down for the last stake.
“She will not be lost beneath my office!” came Magimus’ voice once again, but that high pitch ringing hit my ear again. I tensed my hand about her leg as I felt some hot and warm splay across my back. It teased down my shirt, a thick ichor that sluiced down my hair… but I forced it out of my mind. I had a duty to complete.
My hands gripped the stake that pinned her to the column, my feet planting into the base and leveraging my weight. The screams behind me grew fiercer and fiercer, the battle likely going poorly as I heard my dad bark an order.
None of it mattered. I had a duty to fulfill.
The stake began to move.
I redoubled my efforts, tugging, pulling straining, the goddess’ own ichor loosening my grip as I strained to undo this curse laid upon her.
“Just a bit more,” I begged of her. “Just wait a moment… longer…”
I was thrown back as it finally came loose, the goddess falling upon me as I scrambled to catch her. The stake still gripped in my hand, I tried to pull her aside, only to feel a hand grip my shirt. I steeled myself for a moment, raising the stake, ready to strike. I allowed my eyes to part, if just for a moment.
The man holding me was my father. “Dad?” I mumbled, before he hefted us both high and through us far from the battle as he could- an impressive feat, considering my height and his beleaguered state. My eyes were open now, but before I could say a word, I felt another hand grip me. This grip lacked the strength of my father, and if so, that made it impossible for it to be Magimus. This was the heretic. His pull was incessant, urgent by lacking in physical strength. How could he have beaten my father?
“Let’s go,” his words were terse.
Right… a duty to fulfill.
I turned back to Magimus… or what I believed to be him. It seemed… wrong. Distorted. Like he had the shape of a human, but something had gone awry. His muscles were too… oblique. His form too perfect. And his eyes had turned from their familiar chocolate brown to piercing violent shade of blue, pulsing with an electric might.
“You WILL stop,” his voice growled, reverberating with a tone I once associated with the divine. Light began to warp around him, forming wings of crystalline shards as he rose above us. “It is by my will the divine still persists amongst us.”
“Move!” the Heretic pulled me back, away from the astonishing sight. The golden mane of the man I barely understood now formed, long and smooth with an inhuman sheen as I was pulled into the pit. The Goddess’ hair shimmered with a dulled light now, a welcome change from the harsh tone that had assaulted my senses before. I turned to the stairs, only for the Heretic to push me towards the center of the basin. “Stay,” was his next command, as if he were speaking with a dog. He bent and laid his hand upon the floor, the whole well quivering as a magic pulsed through the bricks. As the doors of the underground vault screeched close, locking our enemy in, I looked around and realized, with a quiver of horror…
“Where’s my father?”
—
“LET ME BACK DOWN!”
“NO.”
“YOU LEFT HIM DOWN THERE!”
I stood over the Heretic as we continued to rise, his hands planted upon the floor. If I wished it, he could have died right there and then. His neck was weak, vulnerable. If I killed him now, perhaps I could jump to the stairs and run back down. I could make it back in time-
The doors beneath us shuddered, the violent jolt echoing through the towering stairwell. My eyes turned to the goddess. Her form looked sunken as it was now- the glow of hair dimmed without the stakes pinning her in place. I took a look at the one I had carried with me in the madness of it all. Blood still stained, yet it still glow hot in my hand.
“Sunstone,” the heretic said, unbidden. “They likely have a whole supply down there, to ensure her grace didn’t run out of holiness to share,” he all but spat the words out.
“You… knew?”
“That the Goddess was down there? I knew she was here… but I did not expect Magimus to be that… insane,” the Heretic sighed. The magic that was giving our party rise began to slow, his eyes starting to glance about. “Soon as we reached the top, get her out of here. At least get her in sunlight… she’ll… have a chance then.”
“A chance for… what?”
“Survival, in her sense of the word.” My curiosity was struck by the… familiarity in his tone of voice. As if he understood something about the goddess in my arms that I, her most ardent servant, failed to comprehend.
“What are you?” I asked him, hoping to cut through his mysteries.
“What, you didn’t hear your dear Father back there? I’m a Summoner. A Sussel.”
“Funny, I didn’t see you summon a single thing.”
“Yeah, well… hard for someone of my lineage to form a contract these days.”
“Yet you were able to injure a man drunk upon Holy Flesh.”
“That was just a bit of creative spellcasting, Inquisitor,” the Heretic said with a wry little chuckle. As I looked down upon him, I realized I had never seen him… properly before. Despite the scars and the wrinkles, like this, so vulnerable and exposed, he seemed to be a man just a bit older than myself. I hefted the goddess in my arms, as I saw the arch of our exit above us.
“Don’t look her directly in the eyes.”
“What?” I turned to him just as the well shook again, and a crushing crunch reverberated from the well beneath us.
“SUSSELLLLLLL!!!!” a horrifying screech echoed from beneath us, its shrill scraping against my very bones.
“Ah, that’s me,” the Heretic’s smile did not lessen. “Best go while he’s occupied.”
He did not need to say it- I had already jumped from the platform. He shook his head as he hopped off… and with a whistle, the platform started sailing down into the abyss.
—
The first rays of the morning had began to paint the Holy Eye in gold, as so many fine mornings began. However, on this morn, I had already worn myself thin. Night had passed me by in a thrice as the battle unfurled, and I had yet to stop running. I could no longer hear Maginus, but I could not rule out the possibility that my father and my… no, he was still a Heretic. A blaspheming, magic wielding beast in man form, willing to sacrifice children to support his corrupt ambitions… right?
I did not bother with mustering the paladins beneath my command. They would not understand, or I simply lacked the ability to explain. I certainly could not best Magimus in a contest of words. If I had my consecrated blade, perhaps it would serve me well.. .but I had no time to grab it. Not when my Goddess lay in my hands. As I charged through the halls, my eyes scanned the courtyard… a bale cart was already beginning to depart.
My eyes quickly cast between the cart and the nearest rampart, the wind whistling in my ears as I took several steadying breaths.
It was time for a leap of faith.
The farmer departing with his cart of hay, the muddied reeds of the stable teasing his nose, heard something thunk behind him. What he found as he turned was a woman, fierce, blond, and armed. She pressed something against his throat, something that gleamed with a warm light. “Drive,” she ordered him, her authority quivering through every fiber of his being. “Get as far away from here as you can.” She paused a moment… the farmer’s eyes turning to the frail girl in her arms. “Please,” she added after a moment’s hesitation.
His eyes widened, perhaps in understanding, as he mushed his mule to quicken its steps.
When he turned back to face her, the woman had already collapsed into the hay, a forced peace set upon her.
He chose the path least guarded, lest she be roused.
—-
When my eyes next parted, the sun was burning upon my skin. The hay that clone to my skin had warmed beneath its radiance and fallen away. My eyes turned to the fragile creature that was supposedly my Goddess. In absence of the dark, her blond hair has lost its divine luster. I could see her now, draped in a makeshift cloth blanket, her body bandaged, and breathing settled. I turned to our host, grateful for his aid. But the farmer simply focused upon his task, driving his mule further and further from the Holy Eye.
I could imagine it now- the furor that was roused in the wake of battle. The knights would likely awake to a set of harsh, violent orders. I would probably be branded a heretic, and he would have me captured alive. I closed my eyes and awaited the sounds of the bell, the Paladins of the Sun summoned by an alarm.
Perhaps it was on the wind. I could not tell.
I shuffled my way to the form of the goddess. Her blindfold was still on, but when I gripped her arm… it felt…
Alive.
Power was pulsing through her again. Muscles slowly rebuilding. I began to pull the cover from her form, exposing her to more of the sun. The Heretic had been right- her body was beginning to radiate beneath the rays of her namesake. How did know? Why did he know?
Would I ever know?