Chapter 23:
In the gentle light of dawn, the girl emerges from the room.
Her once beautiful, bright-colored robes now stain a deep, gruesome red. Her weapon hangs heavy—pieces of flesh cling to it, blood drips from its spikes.
She steps outside.
Behind her, the house suddenly catches fire. Flames lick the walls and engulf the structure.
Unperturbed, she walks toward a solitary frozen tree in the distance. A trail of blood follows her in the fresh snow.
She arrives at the tree.
She looks behind it—a thick layer of snow covers the ground. With a solemn expression, she raises her weapon and speaks in a commanding voice. Her words echo through the still morning air.
"I curse you. Use your souls to shield this town from the cold until your souls burn out."
The blood stains on her clothes and weapon vanish in an instant.
The tree before her begins to bloom. Branches unfurl with vibrant life. Behind the tree, the snow melts away, revealing a large, unfrozen lake at its base.
Within a transparent cylinder embedded at the center of the tree's trunk, nine small wisps of light appear. Each represents one of the men she just condemned.
The lake shimmers with an otherworldly glow—a testament to the curse she has placed upon it.
With a final hum of her weapon dragging on the ground, the girl turns away from the scene. The old priest follows closely behind as they leave the town behind.
--
Legend has it that the tree remained in full bloom and the lake unfrozen for two hundred years. A haunting reminder of the girl's wrath and the souls she bound to protect the town from the cold.
***
Lucina
Four hundred days of pilgrimage pass.
I mark my eighteenth birthday in solitude, accompanied only by the old man who has been my constant companion on this journey. A quiet and uneventful day. Spent mostly sightseeing in a town that holds no significance to me.
What a sad way to spend a birthday.
My thoughts interrupt.
A woman runs away from me in fear.
Oh, how her fear now amuses me.
She wasn't so afraid when she sold her sister's daughter to a brothel, was she?
I hum to myself as I walk toward her. My weapon drags along the ground behind me. I've named it Spikey—a fitting name for the spikes adorning its metal head.
I chuckle to myself.
I may be a little messed up in the head.
The woman stumbles over her own feet in her haste to escape.
I quicken my pace, closing the distance between us. Memories of the prayers the girl sent before she took her own life flood my mind.
Anger stirs within me.
I raise Spikey. The spikes gleam in the dim light.
I bring it down toward the woman with a swift, decisive strike.
Metal meets flesh. The sound echoes in the quiet street. A sharp cry of pain follows.
She falls to the ground, clutching the wound on her arm. Blood seeps through her fingers. Fear and desperation fill her eyes as she looks up at me.
Realizing there is no escape.
*
Seven hundred days into pilgrimage.
I find myself in a noble's home. Luxurious furnishings surround me. A beautiful mirror reflects my image back.
At nineteen years old, I admire myself.
My curly white hair has grown even longer—cascading below my waist when straightened. I twirl around, pleased with the vision of effortless beauty before me.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my self-admiration.
This town, I learn, hasn't seen a successful harvest in thirty years. The dead plants in the room testify to the dire yet suspicious situation.
I dress in the attire of a "Daughterof the Moon." Only fellow daughters may see my face. Neither priests nor ordinary people—men or women—are allowed to see a daughter's face.
I step outside into the moonlit night.
The full moon casts its glow over the town. The townspeople gather around the church fountain, their faces filled with hope and anticipation.
I observe the moon's reflection on the rippling water. I take a moment to center myself before beginning the ritual.
The ritual is a simple prayer.
But with divine power coursing through me, it becomes a beacon of light and hope. I utter the sacred words.
A bright light emanates from the fountain.
A man starts screaming in agony.
Gotcha.
For hours, I continue the ritual, channeling divine energy to purify the environment tainted by blood magic. The townspeople watch in awe as the light grows brighter and brighter, dispelling the dark energy that has plagued their land.
Finally, as the first light of dawn approaches, the ritual completes.
The man who practiced blood magic lies unconscious. The dark aura around him dissipates. The townspeople cheer and thank me, grateful for the purification of their environment.
I decide to stay a few more days to ensure the environment fully recovers.
I reflect on the events of the night.
Just another day in the life of a saintess.
Sigh.
*
Today is the final day of my eight-hundred-day pilgrimage.
I stand in the Pope's prayer room, staring at the statue of the goddess. The exhaustion and frustration of the past two years bubble up within me.
I glare at the stone figure.
"You really overworked me, you know."
I half expect the statue to respond.
The Pope enters the room, dressed in his regal attire. He stands in front of me.
"Whoa. I completely forgot you're the Pope, Gramps. You were looking a little raggedy these past couple of years."
He slaps the back of my head playfully.
I stick out my tongue.
He scolds me for that too.
No fun.
Hours pass.
The moon rises in the sky. We perform the final ritual to release me from my duties as a "Daughter of the Moon."
The Pope chants in a divine language that would make the average person's ears bleed.
When it ends, a light envelops me.
I feel the weight of my title lift from my shoulders.
"Don't be too sad, Gramps. I'll make sure to come visit until you get sick of me."
He simply nods.
We make our way out of the prayer room.
The priests and daughters bow as we pass, their eyes downcast in reverence for the Pope's presence.
I forget he's such a magnificent figure. Not just my gramps.
*
We walk through the magnificent Cathedral. Light reflects off the crystal pillars, creating a dazzling display.
Eventually, we enter a large room filled with stone pillars. Each pillar is adorned with a portrait and a corresponding item encased in glass below.
We stop before a portrait of a handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes, holding a sword. Beside it, in the glass case, rests a great sword with the same handle as depicted in the portrait.
"Gramps, is that you? Weren't you quite the looker?"
He quickly moves to another pillar.
But I see his pink ears.
Curious, I follow.
A portrait of a "Daughter of the Moon" with blue eyes, holding a spiked metal rod.
"This is the Hall of Fame of the Church of Moonlight." The Pope explains. "Significant figures in our history are immortalized here."
I gaze at my portrait. Pride and doubt mingle in my chest.
Had I truly done enough to deserve this honor?
The Pope flicks my forehead gently.
"I know what you're thinking. Your actions have brought hope to the hopeless and increased our congregants fivefold. You've been a symbol of the goddess's care and compassion—more than you realize."
"Thank you, Gramps. It's been a privilege."
I bow slightly.
He returns the gesture.
I place Spikey, my beloved weapon and companion and the crystal headpiece on the stone pedestal.
Glass encases them.
With a final farewell to my trusted companions, I leave the hall with the Pope by my side.
*
We walk.
I can't shake the feeling of vulnerability—walking without my face covered.
A wave of dizziness washes over me.
The next thing I know, I'm in my room at the villa.
Familiar surroundings comfort me. I quickly change into comfortable shorts and a shirt—stolen from Nikolai's wardrobe.
Exhaustion crashes over me.
I collapse onto the bed.
As I drift off, I mentally thank Gramps for his parting gift. He used a great deal of energy to teleport me back to the villa.
The silence of the empty house surrounds me.
The boys aren't around.
I fall into a dreamless, deep sleep.