The towering golden Temple stood high, with thousands of steps in front leading up to it. The river of light stretched across the sky like decorative golden silk, and also like a warning at the boundaries of the Golden Hall.
Mira did not stop to look; Anos looked up at her from behind, the girl’s gaze solemn, as if she were a king commanding the stars.
Could she really be... God’s ssenger?
Inexplicably, this thought leapt into Anos’s mind.
How could that be...
Anos instinctively denied her own thought.
Would soone acting as God’s ssenger that often truly beco God’s ssenger?
Reason told the Princess that it was just Mira playing the part too much, and her own feelings that made her seem like God’s ssenger were rely an illusion.
Yet emotionally, Anos sowhat believed that Mira was God’s ssenger, but only to the extent of about thirty percent.
She could co up with many reasons to convince herself that Mira was God’s ssenger and no one else could be.
But the other seventy percent of her emotions denied this possibility.
Anos didn’t understand why this was the case.
Emotionally speaking, even if undeniable evidence appeared before her that Mira was God’s ssenger, she would rather not believe it.
She always felt that God’s ssenger wouldn’t just casually appear beside her; surely, it must be soone else.
The Princess also did not wish for Mira to be God’s ssenger.
Being God’s ssenger, or say, a Prophet, often ant carrying burdens and losing sothing...
In the docunted history of the Scriptures, Prophet Al lost his brother; Maisy who ca to the world lost his mortal life; Prophet Noen, as a slave, endured untold suffering; even the millennia-old Prophet Solamus witnessed various sorrows on his long journey.
A Prophet is both glory and arduous servitude.
The journey is filled with hardships and dangers that must be overco and endured, seeing countless critics who must be shouted at and preached to. A Prophet’s life is very often spent on the road, loneliness the wilderness where Prophets et with God, and pain the bitter soup that consoles boredom, relying on nothing but God.
Thinking of this, thinking that Mira might endure such a fate, Anos felt her breath quicken, an invisible pressure mounting on her shoulders as if to crush her into a narrow grave, with only one epitaph on the tombstone: I am in pain, I am lonely, I am cold.
Mira had already begun to ascend, Anos ca back to her senses and slowly followed.
As the Princess drew closer to the Golden Hall, for so reason, her Golden Heart began to beat lightly within her chest.
At first, Anos thought it would be extrely painful, as it had always been before, but to her surprise, the beating of the Golden Heart was gentle, like a kindly woman leading Anos sowhere.
Mira walked ahead, Anos thought it over and decided to say nothing.
As they drew ever nearer to the gates of the Golden Hall, the apprentice priests guarding the temple saw the two approaching ladies; one apprentice priest looked astonished, recognizing the Primordial ssenger from the rumors.
Mira slowly approached the apprentices, the leader among them gaping, frozen in place, unable to utter a word.
The girl was not in a hurry, she quietly waited.
After a while, the apprentice finally said,
"God... are you, are you... the Primordial ssenger?!"
Mira lowered her voice, her expression blank:
"God sent here."
This statent fell to the ground, the apprentices looked at Mira incredulously, and then they all showed a look of reverence.
That simple sentence seed to confirm her identity in front of these people.
Mira and Anos passed them and walked straight into the Golden Hall.
The leading Priest’s apprentice hurried to follow, saying quickly,
"At the second-level altar, the Elders have been waiting for you for a long ti."
"How long?"
Mira asked, not turning back.
"For thousands of years, the Elders, generation after generation, have been waiting for you, the entire city beneath the city was built in anticipation of your arrival."
The apprentice’s voice was humble yet fervent.
Mira rely nodded and went straight towards the stairs inside the hall.
Anos surveyed the hall before her, which resembled a gathering place for the citizens’ assemblies or Councils of Elders of so city-states, furnished with countless tables and chairs, capable both of judgnt and deliberation.
Above that hall, there stood a throne made entirely of gold, as if reserved for soone, awaiting his return.
Mira and Anos ascended to the second floor, led by the apprentice who showed them where the Elders were.
It was a circular room deep within the Golden Hall.
Thousands of years ago, Shan’en had gathered the power of countless gods and, in that secret space, had created humanity.
In this replica of the Golden Hall, that circular room had been transford into both an altar and a eting place.
The Elders of the Primordial Church gathered there, each of their decisions capable of affecting countless Primordial believers, even enough to influence the rise and fall of an Empire.
When the apprentice pushed open the heavy doors, Mira finally saw the Elders of the Primordial Church.
The lighting in the room was dim, the faces of the Elders concealed in the shadows.
They all simultaneously fixed their gaze on the newly arrived Mira, and for a mont, everyone fell silent.
Anos looked at the altar and noticed that its design greatly resembled the altar in the Bone Church, marked with the sa patterns and backed by identical religious paintings.
Most importantly, on that circular altar, there was a stone seat shattered to pieces, its owner’s na eradicated, as though deliberately concealed by soone.
It was just like... a curse of erasure...
Anos reflected inwardly.
In the history of the Danschel Empire, if a tyrant arose who brought calamity, the Council of Elders would remove his na from all decrees, chronicles, and poems after his deposition or death, hoping to entirely erase any trace of his existence.
But... why did these people of the Primordial Church want to obliterate the na of the person from that seat?
Just for a curse? Or perhaps...
Before Anos could reach a conclusion, in the very center of the circular altar, a woman holding the Golden Shepherd’s Staff slowly stood up.
"Are you the one who cos from God?"
The woman’s voice was gentle, not at all like that of a cultist.
Anos stood in shock.
That, that voice?
The Princess couldn’t help but step forward twice, doubting her own ears.
Unconsciously, she had already approached the altar and, with her excellent eyesight, made out the woman’s face in the dim light.
It was...
Mother?!
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