Ruby lips [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/AP1GczMmmiD3kFajaXzXLmzWLGOpuXo-_O1KLfjvrmN165FPDLiaDVIZnuGeHkH-805LeDt4pp7R0FJXl9MXb0k3mlKvNMg1Hp84PbSgfcmfSiO7NcOwnNV6v6pv5Y6uSoIl9JHrBcL_K6gQOvxfGSp9QYCm=w613-h919-s-no-gm?authuser=0]
Phoenix blinked in confusion and asked her party, “Is that some kind of weird marriage proposal? Why does he want me to kiss his son?”
Dazien explained with a grimace, “Not like that. He doesn’t mean it romantically. Some old texts that talk about Saints describe them granting their blessings by kissing the recipient’s forehead. So a moniker for those kinds of miracles is ‘the Saint’s Kiss,’ but obviously, we know that’s not a requirement.”
Phoenix hesitated and found her curiosity getting the better of her as she asked the kneeling stranger, “Are you related to Acolyte Barrett?”
“I’m Rupert Barrett, Priest of the Cultivator, my lady,” the man said, “My son is Acolyte Rufus Barrett. He participated in both the Reclamation of Tulisuda and the Discovery of the Soul Reapers expeditions alongside your party.”
“I remember him,” Phoenix replied.
Dazien silently interjected before she could say more, “Be very careful about what you say right now, Phoenix. This man is standing on ceremony at the moment, and all of these people are acting as witnesses not to how you respond but how the Saint responds.”
“I don’t even know what that means to these people,” she hissed back unhappily, “It’s not like the gods gave me a Knowledge Tome of Saintliness!”
“I think the word is actually Sainthood or holiness—”
“That’s not the point, Daze! I don’t know HOW to respond even if I wanted to help!”
“You want me to give it a go? Fair warning, you might not like what I say…”
“Better than me messing it all up and turning everyone against us or angering the gods somehow.”
“Alright but no complaining later. Just try to look calm and confident,” he instructed and then spoke aloud, “Why do you request the sacred blessing from the Saint of the Celestial Pantheon, Priest Barrett? What miracle do you wish the Chosen One to grant?”
“You’re right; I hate everything about what you just said,” she replied while trying hard not to stare at him incredulously.
“My son—” the man began, his voice trembling as he choked out, “He— he died during the Siege of Tulimeir. He was assisting with healing the injured at the Temple of the Mender when it fell.”
Phoenix couldn’t help but notice the sharp intake of breath at the news and felt guilty at the small relief that she wasn’t the only one affected by the information. It was another connection lost. Another young face they would never see again.
“You have our condolences for your loss, Priest Barrett, but—”
“Please, Herald,” Rupert interjected, and Phoenix felt Dazien tense at the title. She knew the word but didn’t fully understand it in this context. “Please, his aunt, my older sister, she was Lord Wayland’s old party member. Roxanne Barrett. Surely you know of her?”
Phoenix was glad she didn’t have to answer because she didn’t know anything about Paul’s old party. She hadn’t gotten that far in the journals yet, and Paul had never mentioned them to her in person.
“I remember Roxy,” Uriel said quietly, adding silently to the group, “She was the inspiration for my chocolate marshmallow cookies you all like.”
She found herself staring at Uriel for far too long as she realized that he likely knew more about Paul’s past than she did, which felt like an odd sort of irony when he seemed to always avoid the Paladin —if he wasn’t yelling at the overprotective man on her behalf.
“We have always served both the Cultivator and House Wayland loyally, and my son—”
“We’re sorry, but—”
“My son saved your life!” the kneeling priest cried out toward her, interrupting Dazien’s attempts at calming the man. “Please, Chosen One, bring him back to me.”
“Priest Barrett,” Dazien said softly, “No mortal can revive the dead. Not even a Saint,” he paused for a moment to glance at her before grimacing and saying, “Your son knew that fact which is why he saved our Saint. His actions were to make it possible for the Chosen One to be alive in order to save our city from complete destruction. If it were not for him, all might have been lost.
“We hope you can take comfort in knowing that he was a savior of heroes. We are forever grateful for his faith and devotion, and I know we would gladly return the favor, but you ask for the impossible,” he stated with finality, looking back down at the kneeling father.
“There are legends!” the runeforged replied, obviously still pushing for any thread of hope he could cling to, “An Avatar of the Mender and Saint of the Undertaker returned the soul to the body. It’s not impossible!”
“Legends,” Dazien repeated mercilessly, “Rumors and fables. Aside from that, neither of those gods are part of our Saint’s Pantheon. So, for now, at least, you’re asking her for the impossible. Do you really believe that if our Saint could truly revive the dead, she would not have done so already?”
The older man seemed at a loss before saying, “No, I just— I heard the Lord Wayland still lives despite—”
“Lord Wayland is trapped in a magical stasis that not even the goddess Scholar knows how to undo currently. We have lost many friends, Priest Barrett. If we could grant your wish, it would have already been done.”
The runeforged let out a broken sob, and Phoenix was relieved to see another person wearing the robes of the Cultivator making her way towards the man, calling out to them, “Please forgive him, Saint Wayland, he is distraught with his grief and did not mean to burden you with it.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she found herself replying. She knew that grief, and she wouldn’t begrudge others for working through it. “If I knew what sacrifice I could give to bring all of our loved ones back, I would offer it up without hesitation.”
Phoenix felt Uriel’s warm hand take hers and squeeze it tightly. It felt like a silent warning, and she realized that she probably shouldn’t have made a blanket statement like that, but it was the truth. She’d give everything to have her lost friends and father completely healed and living again.
“Thank you for your kind words as well as the risks and sacrifices you have already made, Saint Wayland,” the newcomer said, wrapping an arm around the grieving father and trying to help him up.
“We have our duty as Adventurers to see to now,” Dazien said, “It wouldn’t do for Saint Wayland to be late to her vigil on the wall.”
“Of course, Herald Wayland,” the woman replied with a low bow, “Forgive us the delay. I will make sure to send the AOA a letter explaining what might have caused it.”
“I appreciate that,” Dazien replied, “We shall take our leave now.”
Then he took Phoenix’s other hand and led her towards the glass transport, the line simply parting to let them through and into one of the empty ones where nobody dared to enter with them.
The tension fell from her shoulders as the glass door slid shut, and the blue-tinted shuttle began moving along the runerails to take them to the eastern district.
Everyone seemed a bit shell-shocked from the odd experience, and Dazien looked visibly upset now as he stared out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. Finally, she spoke, “Daze, what you said about Acolyte Barrett saving me—”
“I don’t like lying,” he curtly interrupted, already assuming what she was going to deny, “I despise it to my core…” Hard amethyst eyes turned to her, “But I said what he and everyone else there needed to hear. Your Talent, while a miracle in itself, would cause both fear and resentment, Phoenix.”
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Silence fell again as none of the others argued with him, and she contemplated more about everything that had just happened. She had hated the way Dazien had kept referring to her, making her seem so much more important than she felt. She was a glorified tool. The title of Saint felt more like a technicality than something she earned.
Dazien had seemed uneasy about the new title he was referred to by and she asked, “What did they mean by calling you ‘Herald’?”
He sighed and explained, “They were recognizing that I was speaking on your behalf. Either my connection to you as brother and party leader was deemed strong enough, or I’ve simply done it so much already without you contradicting it that they’ll accept my words as if they were your words.”
“And… is that a problem?”
He shrugged, “Not necessarily but it’s not something you’ve explicitly granted me. Traditionally, there are ceremonies involved with something like that, and the Herald would be chosen from among those who also serve the god the Saint does. Or at least one of the gods in your case. I wouldn’t normally even be considered for the position. It also means I have to be more conscious of my own actions in a religious sense. It’s… well, I’m sure you understand that it’s a heavy social burden.”
“No kidding,” she said flatly.
Dazien chuckled, “Well, at least you can shove most of the speaking part onto me now, if you’re okay with not correcting their assumption. You should still be careful about the things you say in public though, your words have more power now than I think you truly comprehend.”
“I’m starting to get a clearer picture now…” she said with a grimace and leaned against the glass wall of the port. “I just want to go back to being a no-name Adventurer.”
Uriel laughed that time, shaking his head and giving her a sad smile, “You were never that, Phoenix. You arrived in the city as the Protégé of the most powerful man in the city and an Aurabreaker Wayfarer. Being anonymous was never an option for you.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Hey, maybe some monsters will show up outside the walls for us to smash. That’ll make you feel better, yeah? Some good ol’ Adventuring work,” Rayna said, moving to lean next to her with a grin.
Phoenix chuckled, “Taking out my frustration on some poor innocent monster might not be the healthiest coping mechanism.”
“That didn’t seem to stop you from almost taking my head off last time we sparred when Paul upset you,” Uriel murmured, causing everyone else to chuckle.
----------------------------------------
Phoenix did feel better after fighting a couple of monsters that had spawned during the night and were low enough for her party to take care of. Her mind kept replaying the encounter with Priest Barrett over and over again, imagining how she could have reacted differently or how to prevent something like that from happening again in the future.
While Dazien had hopefully shut down the idea of people coming to her to resurrect loved ones, what would she do when someone requested something that she could accomplish? With eight deities contributing to her Soul Mark, she effectively had seven “miracles” left to grant before being on cooldown for a year if each behaved the way Hero’s had.
Would she be stuck with awkwardly turning down everyone who came to beg a miracle from her? Or would she feel obligated to grant them? How would she know who was worth using the rare commodity on?
Something else the Priest had said had also been bothering her, and she decided she wanted to do more research after their shift on the wall. However, she just wasn’t sure of the best way to get there without attracting a crowd and didn’t want her party to feel like they had to escort her everywhere she went.
“Um, I wanted to go visit the temple district before heading back to the World Tree, if that’s alright? Do you think it’ll be safe to go alone?”
“No,” Dazien replied promptly before softening his tone and explaining, “We can go there, but we stick together in the city. I’m not risking any of us being caught alone.”
“But I know none of you planned to go. I can still portal you all back home instead.”
“You don’t have to worry about taking up our time, Princess. We’ll equally drag you around the city to wherever we might want to visit, too, if it means keeping everyone safe. Isn’t that a fair compromise?”
She nodded, “I guess. I just don’t know how long I’ll be there.”
“It’s fine,” Rayna interjected, throwing an arm around her neck, “We can play bodyguard some more. I kinda want to see one of the crazies try to get at you only to meet my fist.”
“Rayna,” Saiya scolded.
“What? You know it’s gonna happen eventually and once it does they might learn to keep off and let us breathe again.”
“Just don’t accidentally kill them,” Dazien replied to her surprise.
“Wait, you’re okay with her punching a random person?” Phoenix asked wide-eyed.
“If they don’t respect your personal space like she implied, then absolutely,” he said with a curt nod, “Desperation is no excuse for laying their hands on you.”
“What did you want to go to the Temple District for?” Saiya asked her softly, moving the topic and enveloping them in her aura as they simply walked along the top of the wall away from the crowds below. It was slower but much safer at the moment.
Phoenix hesitated before admitting, “I wanted to look into that legend Priest Barrett mentioned… the one about a Saint reviving someone.” The entire group stopped walking to stare at her, and she wilted slightly, “Is that a bad idea?”
“Not if it’s something you want,” Uriel said, “I just don’t want you feeling obligated to trade away more of your soul because of guilt.”
“It might also bring more trouble down upon you,” Dazien pointed out, “Suppose the legend becomes true, and you can revive someone else… How do you choose? Would you go out and spend that power on the nearest handful of people or save it for someone closer to you? Would it be better to keep it in reserve for a more critical moment?” His voice softened as he postulated, “Would you hate yourself even more if you used the power and then one of us needed it?”
She felt uncomfortable by the questions but understood that they were needed. Still… “If I could have that power and didn’t claim it in the first place… I’d still be hating myself if something happened to any of you.”
Her brother watched her for a moment longer before nodding, “Alright.”
Phoenix blinked in surprise when he didn’t say more, and she asked, “Just ‘alright’? That’s it?”
“If your argument is ‘better to have the power and not need it than need the power and not have it,’ then there’s not much more I can say to that. It’s one of the foundational motivations of cultivating our Caste, after all.”
They continued discussing more about their options for researching the legends as they walked south to the neighboring district. The Mentor’s temple would have been a good place but the temple had been utterly destroyed during the siege. Scholar’s would be equally valuable however, with its collection of books to pursue and clergy that could help point them to the information.
Saiya had made a suggestion that she wanted to try first, though, since it seemed like a quicker route to the answer: Ask the gods directly.
Standing in front of the Undertaker’s temple, Phoenix was surprised to see it resemble more of a garden than a crypt. There was a lot of lavender, both the flower and the color, along with white chrysanthemums and lilies.
The tower itself had a spiral appearance as large balconies were offset from ones above them, and she recalled the funeral pyres that had been placed upon all of them during the last city-wide memorial. It reminded her that there would likely be another in the future for those lost during the siege and she would be expected to speak again, this time as the Saint of the Celestial Pantheon instead of as Regent Wayland.
Before she could even knock, the front door to the temple opened, and a cinderen woman appeared before her, “Greetings, Saint Wayland. I am High Priestess Esilin Deveen.”
Phoenix gave a small bow in return, and the priestess chuckled, “You shouldn’t bow to me, young one.”
She tensed at the epithet, remembering how Paul used to call her that often, but said, “Sorry, I’m new to the whole Saint thing.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough,” Esilin replied, then gestured for them to not enter the temple but to walk around it and off the main pathway in, “My god whispered that you may have some questions but that there was only one answer I could give to you.”
That didn’t sound promising, and she asked, “And what answer might that be?”
“That even if you and he wished for it, my god cannot give you his mark of Favor.”
Phoenix was baffled by that, “What? Why not?”
“Because your soul utterly rejects death, while my god embraces it. It is a natural part of the cycle that you have a habit of breaking. The Soul Mark is not compatible.”
“He won’t even try?”
“To try and fail is an even harsher punishment upon the deity than if one of their Chosen died. It’s yet another reason that they normally don’t attempt it so lightly. Most deities will wait to be absolutely certain that the soul embodies their concept before attempting to mark it.”
The High Priestess glanced over as a new aura entered the area, and Phoenix turned to see an older man wearing robes she recognized as belonging to the Mender’s clergy. Esilin tilted her head toward him and added, “I assume that is why High Priest Chessim is here as well.”
The cinderen man nodded and said sadly, “Yes, aside from another delivery of those who we need to transfer into your temple’s care.”
“Wait a second, I don’t understand,” Rayna interjected, “Are you saying that the Mender can’t mark Phoenix either? She has a freaking healing ability.”
The High Priest nodded again and explained, “Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean her soul is compatible with my goddess’ concept. Saint Wayland also has a penchant for destroying things instead of mending them. My goddess cannot afford the risk currently when she is already being taxed so heavily on this war in her attempts to miraculously save lives.”
He turned to focus back on Phoenix as he said solemnly, “Mender will not choose you.”