Chapter 2: Faith

  Saintess, Celestine Caelora’s Perspective

  I took one last look in the mirror.

  Not the ceremonial robes. Not the veil. Not the white and gold they wrapped around me like a promise I never made.

  Just me.

  The dress was simple—light yellow with cream trim, soft enough that it moved when I breathed. I smoothed the front with both hands, pressing out wrinkles that weren’t there. My purse hung from my shoulder, small and neat. Normal.

  I didn’t look like a Saintess.

  I looked like a girl going out.

  The thought made something warm settle in my chest.

  I turned, stepped toward the door, and paused with my hand on the handle.

  Just for a second.

  Then I opened it and stepped into the hallway.

  The cathedral was quieter than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way now. My shoes clicked softly against the marble as I walked, the sound too loud in the empty space. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, painting the floor in fractured color.

  I adjusted the strap of my purse and kept moving.

  I was almost at the staircase when I saw him.

  Cardinal Damien.

  He walked toward me from the far end of the hall, slower than I remembered. His robes were immaculate as always, but his posture had changed. His shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of something unseen pressing down on him. There were shadows under his eyes now.

  He noticed me.

  His gaze dropped immediately to my dress.

  His mouth tightened.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  His voice wasn’t sharp. Just tired.

  “To meet friends,” I said.

  His eyes lingered on the fabric. “Is that what she bought for you?”

  I stiffened.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I bought this myself.”

  He didn’t respond right away.

  He studied me like he was trying to recognize someone he used to know.

  “You’ve changed,” he said finally.

  The words landed heavier than I expected.

  I didn’t say anything.

  His expression flickered with something I couldn’t quite name. Annoyance. Disappointment. Maybe both.

  He exhaled slowly and waved his hand like he was brushing dust off a shelf.

  “A rebellious phase,” he said. “You’ll remember your place soon enough.”

  He stepped past me without waiting for a response.

  Just like that. Dismissed.

  I stood there for a moment, watching his back as he walked away.

  He had changed too.

  He used to notice everything. Every wrinkle. Every loose thread. Every deviation from perfection. He would correct me without hesitation. Remind me what I was supposed to be.

  Now he let me walk past him dressed like this.

  He had changed too.

  He used to notice everything. Every wrinkle. Every loose thread. Every deviation from perfection. He would correct me without hesitation. Remind me what I was supposed to be.

  Now he lets me walk past him dressed like this. Aurellia had changed everything. He needs them. Because whatever authority he held now existed alongside Aurellia.

  He didn’t correct me anymore. Not because he approved. Because he couldn’t afford to.

  The thought made something bitter rise in my throat.

  How could he stand there and judge me?

  How could he still believe in it?

  The Accord. The sacred pact that protected humanity.

  The pact that sacrificed its own people.

  My fingers tightened around the strap of my purse.

  He didn’t know.

  None of them did.

  Not him. Not the clergy. Not the faithful kneeling in prayer every morning.

  Not the children who believed the gods were watching over them.

  They prayed beneath a system built on blood.

  And they didn’t even know it.

  They mustn't know.

  My chest tightened. What’s even the point of being a Saintess… for something like that?

  The thought lingered longer than I wanted it to.

  I shut my eyes and shook my head. Not today.

  I pushed the doors open and stepped outside. The sunlight hit me immediately—warm and bright, the sky stretched wide and endless above the city.

  A day like this shouldn’t be wasted inside stone walls.

  I inhaled deeply and started walking.

  Each step felt lighter than the last.

  It didn’t take long before I saw them.

  Two familiar figures standing near the corner.

  Trainee uniforms. Relaxed posture. Talking about something I couldn’t hear.

  Jake noticed me first. He raised his hand.

  I waved back before I could stop myself.

  I felt a little embarrassed for how fast my heart sped up.

  I walked toward them, trying to look normal.

  Ysira’s eyes moved over my dress immediately.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked.

  I stopped in front of them and crossed my arms, trying to look confident.

  “Well?” I said. “What do you think?”

  Ysira smiled.

  “It suits you,” she said.

  Relief flooded through me so fast it made me dizzy.

  I turned to Jake.

  He froze the moment he realized I was looking at him.

  His face went red almost instantly.

  “You look cute,” he said.

  He hesitated.

  “…I guess.”

  He turned away immediately afterward like the ground had suddenly become very interesting.

  Heat rushed to my face.

  I looked down, pretending to adjust my purse.

  Neither of us said anything.

  Ysira sighed.

  Then she grabbed both of us by the sleeves.

  “Come on, you two,” she said. “We’re wasting time.”

  She started dragging us down the street before either of us could protest.

  Everything felt simple again.

  We walked together like that until the familiar sign came into view. Brewtiq.

  Jake pushed the door open and stepped inside first. The smell of roasted beans and warm sugar filled the air immediately.

  It was busy. People talking. Laughing. Living.

  Jake turned to us.

  “Find a table,” he said. “I’ll order.”

  Ysira and I exchanged a glance.

  Then we moved deeper into the room together.

  “Find a table,” he said. “I’ll order.”

  “I’ll get a choco frappe,” I said quickly. Then, before I could second-guess it, “And a cinnamon roll.”

  Jake nodded like it was obvious.

  Ysira didn’t even look up. “Americano.”

  Jake gave her a tired look. “Of course.”

  He walked off toward the counter.

  I watched him go for a second longer than I should have.

  Then I turned away before Ysira could notice.

  We moved toward the back of the café and slid into a booth beneath a narrow window. The sunlight pooled across the table, warm and soft against the wood. I adjusted my purse on my lap, then rested my hands on the table, unsure what to do with them.

  Ysira pulled a book from her coat.

  I recognized the cover immediately. She’d been carrying it everywhere lately.

  “What are you reading now?” I asked.

  She tapped the cover with one finger. “Aurestan history.”

  I leaned forward, curious despite myself. “What specifically?”

  She didn’t answer. She just slid the book toward me.

  I took it carefully.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The leather was worn smooth, the pages thin with age. I opened it where the ribbon bookmark rested and turned the page.

  My eyes caught the name immediately.

  Paul the Blasphemer.

  I frowned.

  “What’s so interesting about him?” I asked.

  Ysira leaned back slightly. “I’m less interested in him,” she said. “More in the people who follow him.”

  I blinked.

  Then leaned back too.

  “I get it,” I said.

  She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to.

  I’d seen them too.

  Missionaries. Standing in the streets. Speaking to strangers like they weren’t afraid of being laughed at. Like they believed someone was actually listening.

  They sang, sometimes.

  Soft at first. Then louder, when more of them joined. Voices overlapping, untrained, imperfect—but steady. Certain.

  Certain in a way that made no sense. Their God didn’t exist. Not here. Not in any way that mattered. Our gods had names. History. Proof. Blessings you could see. Miracles you could touch. And yet their faith didn’t waver. Not when people ignored them. Not when people mocked them. Not when no miracle came. I didn’t understand it. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  Because a part of me—

  A small, quiet part I didn’t want to acknowledge envied what they have.

  Not their God. Their certainty. They weren’t chosen. They weren’t blessed. They weren’t bound by expectation or duty. They believed anyway.

  I stared at the table. I’d spent my entire life serving something real. Something proven. Something necessary. So why did my faith feel heavier than theirs?

  It also explained why Cardinal Damien had looked exhausted lately. More than usual.

  I hadn’t thought much of it before.

  Now I wondered how much of his time was spent dealing with them.

  Jake returned before I could think about it any further.

  He set the tray down in front of us.

  “One choco frappe,” he said, sliding it toward me. “One Americano.”

  He placed the cinnamon roll beside my drink.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “Even in another world,” he said, “you can’t escape Christians.”

  I tilted my head slightly.

  Before he sat, he hesitated.

  His eyes met mine.

  I froze.

  I didn’t know why.

  I looked down quickly and scooted closer to the window, making space beside me.

  He sat down carefully.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  His arm brushed mine for just a moment.

  I pretended not to notice.

  Across from us, Ysira was smiling.

  Smug. Was it that obvious?

  Her expression said everything.

  I looked away immediately.

  I picked up my drink and took a sip.

  It was sweeter than I expected.

  “So,” I said, trying to fill the silence, “what were you saying?”

  Jake blinked. “Oh. Right.”

  He shrugged.

  “It’s the biggest religion where I’m from.”

  He said it like it didn’t matter.

  Then he frowned slightly, looking around.

  “What’s weird,” he added, “is how normal all of this is.”

  He gestured toward the counter.

  “Frappe. Latte. Americano. Like it belongs here.”

  Ysira took a sip of her Americano.

  “How is that weird?” she asked. “It’s from your world.”

  Jake frowned. “That’s exactly why it’s weird.”

  I laughed.

  But then—It struck me. That same confusion. That same question.

  Americano.

  My fingers tightened slightly around my cup. I glanced down at the dark surface of Ysira’s drink, the ice floating near the top.

  Alliyana had asked me the same thing. Not about taste. About the name. She’d held her drink carefully, studying it like it didn’t belong. Like it meant something else.

  “It doesn’t strike you as odd?”

  At the time, I hadn’t understood what she meant. I’d explained it to her so simply. Heroes brought things from their world. Some stayed. Some didn’t.

  She’d just… listened.

  I looked at Jake beside me. He frowned at his own drink now, like it was unfamiliar.

  Of course he’d find it strange. He came from another world.

  But…

  Why did she react the same way?

  She wasn’t the Hero. She wasn’t summoned. She was born here wasn’t she?

  I stared down at my frappe. The ice clinked softly when I tilted the cup.

  I didn’t understand why that question still bothered me. It shouldn’t matter.

  Jake’s voice broke my thoughts.

  “What?”

  I blinked and looked up.

  He was watching me.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly.

  I took a sip before he could ask anything else.

  Before he could press further, movement outside caught my eye.

  Someone ran past the window. Then another. Voices rose outside. Curious and uneasy..

  Jake turned toward the window. “What’s going on?”

  More people were gathering across the street.

  Watching.

  “We should check,” he said.

  Ysira stood first. I followed them outside.

  Across the street, a crowd had formed. The shouting reached us before the crowd came into view.

  “We don’t want you here!”

  “Get out!”

  “Stop pestering people!”

  “We don’t want to hear what you have to say!”

  Each voice louder than the last. Angrier.

  I slowed without realizing it. Jake and Ysira stopped beside me.

  Then—

  “Settle down.”

  The voice was calm.

  Familiar.

  We pushed closer through the edge of the crowd until the center came into view.

  Alliyana stood there, facing a pair of guards. Her posture was relaxed, hands resting loosely at her sides, like she was discussing the weather instead of standing between a crowd and its target.

  Behind her stood three figures.

  Missionaries.

  Each wore a small cross around their neck.

  The guards looked irritated. One of them sighed loudly.

  “Enough,” he said to the crowd. “Go back to what you were doing. Nothing to see here.”

  The crowd grumbled but began to disperse.

  Alliyana turned slightly.

  Her eyes met mine.

  I lifted my hand and waved.

  She waved back.

  Small. Casual.

  Like this was normal.

  We turned to leave—

  “You there!”

  The voice cut through the thinning crowd.

  Jake froze.

  We turned back.

  One of the missionaries stepped forward. He had tanned skin, red hair, and sharp features that didn’t belong to Auresta.

  He was looking directly at Jake.

  “You’re the hero.”

  My stomach tightened.

  Is he from Zepharim?

  I glanced at Ysira.

  She looked just as confused.

  We moved behind Jake instinctively.

  The man bowed his head slightly.

  “My name is Samuel Tharys.”

  Ysira’s eyes narrowed.

  “Tharys?” she asked. “You’re a noble.”

  He looked at her more closely.

  Recognition flickered across his face.

  “…You’re from Zepharim.”

  He sighed softly.

  “I was,” he said. “I relinquished my position. My sister now carries the burden.”

  He turned back to Jake.

  “I was hoping you might accompany us to the port.”

  Jake blinked. “Sorry. I’m busy. I’m hanging out with friends.”

  He gestured vaguely between us.

  “And I have classes later.”

  Samuel’s gaze shifted.

  To me.

  “You must be the Saintess.”

  I stiffened.

  “I would ask the same of you,” he said.

  My hands tightened around my purse.

  I hesitated.

  “I… I’ll go,” I said. “If Jake and Ysira come too.”

  Ysira frowned. “Celestine. He just said we have classes.”

  Before I could respond—

  “I’ll write you an excuse letter.”

  We all turned.

  Alliyana stood beside us now.

  “The weather is too pleasant to waste,” she said lightly. “Walks are best enjoyed in good company.”

  I elbowed Jake’s arm. “Thanks.”

  Alliyana leaned closer to me.

  “That dress suits you,” she said quietly.

  Heat rushed to my face.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  One of the missionaries bowed his head.

  “You honor us, Lady Aurellia.”

  She smiled faintly. “The pleasure is mine.”

  We began walking toward the port.

  Alliyana walked ahead, speaking with the other two missionaries.

  She looked… comfortable.

  Relaxed. Like she belonged there.

  I glanced at Jake. He walked beside me, hands in his pockets. He used to look at her differently. I remembered overhearing him once. Old man. That’s what he called her. He’d said it like a joke. Like he understood her in a way the rest of us didn’t.

  He didn’t look at her like that anymore.

  “What?” he asked suddenly.

  I blinked. “Nothing.”

  “You keep spacing out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Before he could press further—

  “I have always wanted to speak with a Hero.”

  Samuel’s voice broke between us.

  He walked beside Jake now.

  “Tell me,” he said, “do you believe in God?”

  Jake rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Where I’m from… there isn’t one.”

  Samuel smiled slightly.

  “Not according to Apostle Paul.”

  I frowned.

  Apostle?

  Jake sighed. “Paul was just a Christian. Like anyone else from my world.”

  Samuel chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  He looked ahead.

  “There is an account of him admitting that his world would one day lose faith.”

  He glanced at Jake.

  “Did it come to pass?”

  Jake hesitated.

  “…No.”

  Samuel’s smile widened.

  Jake sighed.

  “It became the largest religion.”

  Samuel’s eyes lit up. “What glorious news.”

  Jake didn’t smile.

  Samuel tilted his head. “Why the sigh?”

  Jake opened his mouth. Then closed it. He didn’t answer. I knew why. He didn’t want to offend him.

  I spoke instead.

  “How can you believe in a God that never answers your prayers?”

  Samuel looked at me calmly.

  “The Age of Blood ended because of Aurumor and Meliora,” I continued. “They guided us. They answered.”

  He nodded.

  “They were here.”

  He emphasized the word gently.

  “Were.”

  “They still answer us,” I said. “They grant miracles.”

  He met my eyes.

  “And if they stop?”

  The question settled somewhere deep inside me.

  I didn’t know how to answer.

  After a moment, he lowered his gaze.

  “I apologize,” he said. “I do not wish to convert anyone.”

  He hesitated.

  “But Auresta has changed. The people are losing faith.”

  His eyes softened.

  “And I sense the greatest loss from you.”

  My chest tightened.

  Discomfort crawled up my spine.

  “You would understand,” I said quietly, “if you knew what I knew.”

  Jake’s hand found mine.

  He squeezed it gently.

  Shook his head.

  Samuel nodded.

  “Perhaps you are right.”

  He looked ahead again.

  “But for us… institutions mean little.”

  He touched the cross at his neck.

  “People are flawed. Our concern is only with our relationship with God.”

  “Even if your prayers go unanswered?” I asked.

  He smiled.

  “Who says they are unanswered?”

  I frowned.

  “God always answers,” he said. “Just not in the way we expect.”

  Ysira spoke.

  “Even when you’re persecuted?”

  Samuel laughed.

  “It is an honor.”

  He touched the cross again.

  “My savior was persecuted for speaking the truth. To share in that burden. To bear the cross as he did is a gift.”

  Ysira leaned closer to me.

  “They’re delusional,” she whispered.

  I nodded, but I didn’t feel as certain as I wanted to.

  The sea stretched endlessly before us. We sat near the docks and ate together. The air smelled like salt and wind. It was… peaceful.

  Eventually, the missionaries stood.

  Samuel bowed his head.

  “Thank you for accompanying us.”

  We watched their ship pull away from the dock.

  None of us spoke. The sea moved slowly. Endlessly.

  Ysira broke the silence first.

  “They’re strange people.”

  She frowned.

  “The Tharys family values knowledge above all else. Truth above comfort. How could he abandon that for a cult?”

  We all looked at Alliyana.

  She blinked.

  “Do I look prettier near the sea?”

  Jake and Ysira groaned.

  I smiled despite myself.

  “What do you think of them?” I asked.

  She chuckled softly.

  “There is nothing for me to say.”

  Ysira frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Alliyana looked out at the horizon.

  “I could explain their contradictions,” she said. “Or how answered prayers are often just interpretations after the fact.”

  She shrugged.

  “But none of it matters. Their Holy Land stands to this day.”

  My stomach tightened.

  “Bethel,” she said. “Deep within the Malvea Canyon.”

  She paused.

  “It has flourished for centuries in the deepest parts of the corruption. What rebuttal could I possibly make against their faith? Perhaps I’ll visit them someday.”

  She turned.

  “We should head back.”

  The wind moved gently around us.

  People are flawed.

  Relationship.

  I stared at the sea a little longer before following them.