Kya wouldn’t really describe herself as a religious person. She had been raised vaguely Christian, attending services on Christmas and Easter, as well as going to an occasional Sunday school service with her parents and older sister. She had vague memories of watching VeggieTales and singing about Noah saving the world's animals from the flood, but after about the fourth or fifth grade, her family had stopped going.

From there she more or less forgot about the idea of religion unless they’d talk about it in school if they went to one of her many cousins' homes and were scolded by their parents for eating without saying grace first. Kya wasn’t against religion or anything, she’d even read up on Islam and Buddhism in her college years, but more for academic purposes than spiritual ones.

She’d been invited countless times to one of her friends' church services and decided to attend simply to stop the pestering. She’d had a nice enough time, and all the people had been warm and welcoming, but she hadn’t returned. Something about it just didn’t jive with her. She hadn’t really felt any connection or awakening or anything like people often described.

Now, walking back into the ritual room after Rory, Kya had a very much different feeling than before in that large sanctuary. For one, she was on another planet, with two suns and three moons, and magic trains and dogs that breathed fire. Having experienced all of that since her arrival, she was finally on more of a “there has to be more going on here” wave than before. She still didn’t know about subscribing to become a worshiper or anything, but clearly there were beings of great power in this world, and apparently, she was about to be blessed by one.

Rory, for his part, was being incredibly casual about the whole thing. Like, almost worryingly so. There wasn’t any way he was about to summon a god, right? This was some ancient mount olympus type being here, they wouldn’t show up because a random guy asked them to… would they? Kya supposed not, as that made them seem rather like hyper powerful pets instead of masters, coming at the beck and call of their servants. But honestly, she didn’t know what to think or expect at this point.

They went to the center of the room together, Rory, despite his assurances that this wasn’t anything to worry about, also seemed to be either nervous or formal as he no longer spoke to her.

When they reached the central circle of the glowing green room, he simply pointed at her, and pointed downwards.

His brilliant emerald eyes held hers for a long moment, and the haggard yet joking face he always wore was entirely gone. He seemed simultaneously ten years younger but a hundred older.

Kya understanding that she was to stay, watched as Rory went around and placed down larger crystals than she’d seen before, massive chunks of glowing iridescent gems into the cubbies around the ritual circle.

The air around them began to feel thick and warm, like she’d just stepped into a greenhouse. Though there was no visual change other than the additional lights from the crystals, there was an almost imperceptible buzz emanating from around the room. It made Kya think of being on a massive ship, knowing that several decks below as an engine the size of a residential house. Just a faint, omnipresent rumbling both ever so close and ever so distant.

Beads of sweat began to appear on Kya’s brow, and she hurriedly wiped them away. She still hadn’t showered. She wished she’d showered if she was going to meet a god. She quickly clenched and unclenched her fists a couple times, before taking a steadying breath.

However, as Rory stepped back into the circle, she felt an almost profound sense of energy spread all throughout her body. Her legs started to twitch, and she felt no desire more strongly in that moment than to go running, jumping, dancing, something. She felt incredible, like she could climb a mountain, then tear it apart stone by stone to build herself a castle. That faint buzzing was getting louder, it was like a rushing crashing ocean now, all around her, all around the room. Kya was sure she could have, in this moment, done any task in the world. Done anything in her world. Hell, she could probably find a way back to her world. Her mind felt like it was racing a mile a minute. No problem too tall, no-

Rory gently cupped either side of Kya’s head, and softly kissed her in the exact center of her forehead.

Again, visually, nothing changed.

The room was still lit by encased vermillion glowstones. The same life crystals sat in their respective alcoves, no brighter or dimmer than they were a moment ago. Rory stood directly opposite her, looking exultantly ecstatic while his eyes looked so… so old.

But the roaring and rushing waves of energy around her cut out so suddenly, Kya was unequivocally certain she had gone deaf. That the ritual had cut out sound from the world, and soon the god itself would appear.

Instead, she cringed back and almost cried before laughing when her fucking narrator started speaking like he was a pastor in some over the top movie.

- - - - -

- You have been the subject of a divine ritual from a member of the Church of {Life}. If you accept this ritual into your soul, you will be granted the following effects:

- Holy Boon: {Life} - 1-Star - Your body will process the residual magic of healing potions more quickly, slightly reducing the time you must wait before taking subsequent potions.

Note - This holy boon will not grant access to your soul.

Note - Refusing a boon is an option, but the offering deity may not like that very much. One does not refuse a god's grace so lightly.

- - - - -

- Accept Holy Boon: {Life} - 1 Star?

- (Yes)/(No)

- - - - -

Kya was still laughing while Rory stood there, still as a statue and looking at her like she’d committed some faux pas, but she didn’t care. She mentally clicked yes as she got to her feet.

- - - - -

- You have added a Holy Boon to your soul.

- You have unlocked the {Divines} Screen.

- - - - -

Seeming to sense that the ritual was over, or that she’d accepted, or something, Rory visibly relaxed and then looked at her with an outright accusing glare. He stuttered out, taking halting pauses between each word like he couldn’t quite string together a complete sentence. “How… what… why in Ferona’s name did you just laugh during a divine ritual?”

This just made Kya laugh even harder, doubling over and holding her stomach with one hand, while holding up another for him to be quiet and let her be for a minute.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

When finally, she could breathe again, she managed to stammer out “I-It was my narrator.” She heaved for breath, continuing “That guy has always grated on my nerves, but I think he’s just bored, honestly.”

The sheer confusion so clearly displayed on Rory’s face was absolutely priceless, making her crack up all over again.

“Your… Narrator… What does that even mean?”

“Rory,” she said between gasps for breath, deciding then and there to maybe reveal a few of her cards. Not all, but a few “We need to talk about quite a few things, and I need your advice on quite a few more.”

Rory looked at her for an almost uncomfortable amount of time, his face going through several variations of shock, disbelief, confusion, and what she thought was amusement or elation. Finally, he said something in a voice of pure trepidation that brought a chill down her spine and an end to her mirth.

“Kya, are… are you a founder?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sayrin knelt on the floor at the end of his bed. He’d slept fitfully through the rest of the night after leaving Filrin’s office. He’d arrived home and immediately gone to a guest bedroom in his home, leaving instructions to be roused by his house servants an hour before his wife.

Sayrin’s eyes were already open and staring into the inky nothing that was the dark room when the door opened.

“Master Sayrin” came the soft voice of his master servant, wearing the characteristic golden clothes with a white flowing sash draping down one shoulder and across the chest to the opposite hip “It is time to-”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Zita. I’m awake.”

“Very good sir. Is there anything else I might assist with at the moment?” She said, inclining her head and clasping her hands together in front of her.

Sayrin had been thinking of how to do this for some time now, trying to formulate the best strategy, the best avenue of approach for how he wanted the day to proceed. As such, when Zita asked him this question, he was able to more or less answer with confidence, though some slight doubt still lingered in his words.

“Yes, actually. What cheeses do we have in the kitchen?”

Now he knelt, at the end of his own bed, in which he had not slept. In which his wife currently lay. In front of him, a tray of food he’d prepared just for her. It was a small thing. But he knew Mata, he’d known her for a very long time. She liked little things like this. It wouldn’t be what repaired their relationship after the last several months, but it would be a start.

He sighed, not for the first time. His stomach gurgling its emptiness up at him, and he eyed the silver cover hiding the food.

…

Would she really notice if he just… took one? No, no. Probably not a good idea.

Sayrin didn’t know what he was feeling at the moment. His stomach wasn’t clenched in knots solely due to the hunger pangs of his belly. He would much rather go out and fight a sand serpent than do this. But it had to be done. For his heart, for his home, for his sanity.

He spent much of this time in introspective thought and concern for the conversation to come, yes, but Sayrin also spent this time merely observing his wife.

Her chocolate hair fell in thick waves around her caramel skin, her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly as her eyes moved under their embrace. They’d been married for many years at this point. At times it felt strained and difficult. At times he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for them both to quietly separate and go their separate ways. At times, he thought he could never care for her the same way he once did.

But there were also moments like this morning. Moments where he could just watch her sleeping form, chest gently rising and falling with each slow breath, the dim lighting of only a few candles dancing with their own reflections in her hair. Admiring the shape of her nose and how perfectly it curved up, how perfectly it fit her face. Each and every part of her was wondrous in his eyes. Her long slender ears poked out through her hair like rocks from the sea. Her cheekbones contouring and softly extenuating her ever so slightly parted lips. Sayrin looked at every part of her, and knew that no matter what else, he would never find another woman like Mata. Not in another hundred or another thousand years of life.

Which is why he needed to start on the path to rebuilding as quickly as he could. And why he felt his gut clench again and again at all he had and would put her through. Maybe he should leave her, so she could find someone better, someone more worthy to be with than him.

Sayrin didn’t know what to do. Again, give him a golem or tartaryn fiend, not all of… this.

After what felt like an eon more, each passing century marked with the clenching of his jaw, or release of yet another sigh, Sayrin finally saw his wife stir, raising her head from the pillow. Her eyes opened to reveal wondrous stars in the dark of the room. They gazed at one another, lustrous silver meeting radiant gold, and simply held one another, paralyzed in the moment, neither making the first move.

Finally, Sayrin spoke up, clearing his throat after an hour or so of disuse, and said “Good morning, songbird, I prepared you breakfast.”

She gazed at him a moment more before releasing a soft exhale. A sigh? A laugh? Disappointment or amusement or delight or apathy, Sayrin had no idea how to interpret it.

He could see, though she feigned a calm and relaxed posture, she was anything but. Leaning back on a rigid and tense arm, Sayrin thought perhaps she was simply waiting to see what would happen next.

Moving slowly, he rose from the floor, picking up the tray and placing it on her lap in bed, then removed the silver dome with a slight flourish. She cracked a slight smile at that, and emboldened, Sayrin took a quick bow and said, “made especially for you, our finest collection of cheese, bread, butter, and a light medley of fruits.”

She gave him a sidelong look, an almost imperceptible smile still playing at her lips, a full and genuine one on Sayrin’s.

“What is this for?” Mata said in her characteristically accented and melodic voice.

“For?” Sayrin asked, his smile faltering slightly “Why must it be for anything?”

“Because, Palorie, I know you. I know you wouldn’t just make breakfast yourself; you’d tell one of the servants to do it. So, what’s it for?”

“I just wanted to give you something nice to start your day. I know you like to eat as soon as you wake up, and I got it for you myself for no other reason than I wanted to.”

She looked at him for a while longer, still holding his smile, now a little less genuine. Eventually, and simultaneously, they both let out deep sighs. At this, Sayrin cracked another slight smile while Mata only a slight frown.

“This doesn’t change things Say,” she said softly “I can’t just forget because you brought me some bread and cheese.” As she spoke, she crossed both arms across her chest, holding herself, while her eyes darted up to him and back down to the food.

He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. But the moment he moved his arm up, he noticed the slight flinch that wracked her body for a moment. She noticed him notice, and a complicated expression came over her face, while he rapidly withdrew his arm as if he’d been stung.

Silence held them both in its suffocating grasp, until finally, Sayrin slowly put his hand to her shoulder and caressed it as gently as he could.

“I… know. I know this doesn’t change anything.” His voice almost breaking as he nearly whispered the words. “But I need to start somewhere. We need to start somewhere.”

He felt her relax under his touch, and after a second of uncertainty, she reached up and placed her hand over his.

Just for the briefest of moments, she held his hand to her shoulder, held him to her. Then it was gone, and she turned her attention to the food.

Picking up one of the bread slices and a thin piece of some whitish-green cheese Sayrin had never heard of, she took a small bite. His heart did a little tap dance when her hand touched his, but seeing her eyes light up as she ate, he felt like a newly minted butterfly house.

“Pal?”

“Yes Mata?”

She looked up at him in an almost sheepish way, and said “Did you, by chance, prepare a drink to go along with the meal?”

“I…” He trailed off, one hand raised to shoulder level, one finger pointed in the air that slowly closed to a fist which he tapped idly against his leg.

“... is that a no then?”

“That would be a no then… or rather, a not yet!”

He smiled at her, feeling and showing that he could still be a little silly when he wanted to be, and scurried back down to the kitchens. It was a small thing. Sayrin knew it was a small thing. Mata knew it was a small thing.

But in relationships such as theirs, those were what mattered. Those are what made her happy. Those would be his objective for the time being.

Unless, of course, something else were to happen.