"My prince, I am the Saintess," Serafine said, trying to maintain her composure, despite the sheer absurdity of the situation. "I pray for your blessings, not the other way around..."
She could feel a tug of annoyance rise in her chest. Yes, she was the saintess, sworn to uphold her sacred duties and never act out of lust or greed. Marriage was possible on paper, at least, as long as it was done for duty and not for personal desires.
That ant no funny business.
No love-filled escapades.
Just cold, hard devotion to Aurelia and the gods because she served all of them.
The mont she broke her oath, she would no longer be the saintess. She would be nothing.
A fraud.
"But perhaps," the prince continued, completely ignoring her words and still holding onto her hands as if they were ant to be together, "maybe your Ethos is to bear the most divine child. A child who will unite both the church and the state."
Serafine was baffled. If she wasn't so horrified, she would have wanted to hurl.
Instead, she was half-wishing she could just knock so sense into him, right then and there.
The nerve of this guy! Although, to be fair, what he was saying wasn't entirely out of left field.
The truth stung like a slap to the face: 20 years, and she still hadn't awakened her Ethos.
Everyone around her had unlocked theirs, ford their own signature powers and gave it nas, while she had been walking around like a blank slate.
The earlier a person unlocked it, the more in tune they were with their soul, and the nation you were born in. It ant they were blessed and connected. But here she was, 20 years old and still waiting for her 'spark'—if she ever even had one.
Wasn't she the saintess? Shouldn't she be the one who had it all figured out?
Not only that, but her body felt like it could use a nap every five minutes.
Seriously, was she really the savior of the world? The one who would unite Eryndal and kick the Stains back into whatever dark hole they crawled out of? She could barely even get out of bed without feeling like she was going to faceplant into a pile of mud.
She was supposed to be the shining beacon of hope, the one to bring together all races and restore peace. But right now, she couldn't even restore her own energy without needing a snack and a nap. How was she going to fight off monsters and save the world if she couldn't even fight off a nap-induced coma?
The Stains were out there, causing chaos, and here she was, barely able to lift a sword, let alone wield the power of a saintess.
"Well, I have a little prayer for you, my dear prince," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow, probably expecting so deep, life-changing words.
Serafine clasped her hands, closed her eyes with an exaggerated air of serenity, and said in the most divine tone she could muster, "May you be blessed with a divine child inside you, if that is truly what you seek."
"Pardon?"
She opened one eye, smirking. "Hey, if you're going to talk about divine children and blessings, why not aim for a little... miracle of your own?"
Ah, being a saintess had its perks, like delivering passive-aggressive blessings.
"Ah! So you an my every little seed from my %@#$% will be a divine child!"
Prince Lysander's delusion was so strong, it could probably be felt from the moon. "Y-Yes..." Serafine stamred, trying her best to not die of secondhand embarrassnt. On the inside, however, her brain was screaming, 'What the actual hell?!'
"But please, let's leave those... ah... words for another ti, and definitely not in the church... I must go entertain my adoring followers."
Lysander, however, was beaming like he'd just won a grand prize. Oh, how wonderful. A truly majestic level of delusion. She shook her head in disbelief.
But, hey, at least he'd be happy, which was more than she could say for herself at this mont.
Once she was dressed and ready, she made her grand entrance through the doors next to the statue of Aurelia infront of the cathedral. Imdiately, the believers erupted in excitent.
"It's the lady saintess!"
"She's here!"
"We're going to be blessed!"
Serafine was like a rock star walking into a concert. The praise, the admiration. It was all so warm.
"I apologize for the delay, my beloved people," she said, giving a dramatic yet playful bow. "I hope my tardiness isn't a grave sin!"
The crowd erupted in joy, shaking their heads in unison.
"We're just glad you're here, our lady saintess!"
With that, she made her way to the confessional on the right side of the church, where people ca to pour out their souls. Ti to do so good ol' saintly work.
Calix stood just outside the confessional, his usual clumsy deanor replaced by the calm, composed focus his Ethos granted him.
He had been using his Lun Sensus to soothe the souls of those who entered, easing their burdens and helping them find peace.
After the axe incident, which no one liked to talk about, the confessional had beco a bit of a nerve-wracking place. But Calix's unique ability seed to keep the worst at bay, and the people left feeling lighter, their worries gently lifted.
Serafine couldn't help but feel a certain pride as one after another, believers walked out of the confessional with smiles on their faces, clearly uplifted by her presence.
She adored this job, this sense of purpose. 'It was exactly how a saintess should feel.'
And then, the door creaked open again.
Another believer entered, but this ti, sothing felt... off. Serafine could hear the faint shuffle of footsteps, but she couldn't see their face, the confessional's design ensuring she only heard their words.
"What do you wish to admit or express, dear believer?"
"Dear lady Serafine... You are not who you think you are."
Huh? Was this so kind of cryptic riddle? A shaman perhaps? She squinted into the darkness, trying to place the voice.
"Dear believer... what do you an? Who am I?" she asked, keeping her tone gentle but firm, like any good saintess would.
"You are not the saintess."
"Excuse ?" she said, the playful air quickly evaporating as her smile faltered.
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