by V. A. Lewis
The End of
PART THREE
Chapter 38: Interlude III - The Saint
"In the beginning, there was evil."
The voice echoed throughout the building. A man stood in front of the vast crowd, and spoke with an intensity that entranced every single person in the room.
"The world was black, empty of naught but suffering. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and all the other species in the world— yes, even the Demons and all the animals and Monsters— lived together in this eternal torture. There was no hope. No good. No light."
The crowd stayed silent. They bowed, and lifted a candle up above their heads, lighting up the room. The man continued.
"Then the Goddess came. She illuminated the world with her radiance. Liberated every living creature from their Damnation with Her light. She shone and lit the world anew. So that the world would become good.
"She gave us dominion over all things. She gave us the power to moveth upon this world as though it were our own. She made us rulers of this land, and left us, returning back to Eden. Where all who die would forever be restored unto Her."
Heads rose, but their hands stayed in place. The crowd solemnly looked up at the man.Their candles flickering in the darkness, hundreds of tiny flames keeping the room alight. Then the man spoke out, and his voice reverberated in the silence.
"But before She departed, She told us to be good rulers. To rule the world with grace and light. For if we were evil. For if we were to abuse our authority, and bring about great suffering upon this world, She would cast us back to Damnation. To a world where we would once again face eternal torture."
The man looked around the room. He saw all the faces staring back at him. And he nodded, seemingly satisfied.
He lifted up his own candle, and with a quick blow, put out the fire. The crowd followed him, the room slowly darkening as they did. Then the man finished.
"May the Goddess illuminate your lives."
And the lights turned back on. The darkness lasted only for a moment. The light crystals along the walls and ceiling flickered, now shining brightly.
With that, the silence ended. Murmurs broke out throughout the crowd, as they began to disperse. Various conversations were held at once. But the man stayed standing on his podium. And as the crowd left, he added one last thing.
"So as you go about your day, please remember to be good. To treat your neighbors kindly, and help those in need. For that is the will of the Goddess."
Some people stayed. Although most of the crowd exited the building, a few individuals remained to speak with the man.
The man greeted them all warmly. They came to him asking for help, seeking advice, and the man offered them what he could. Kind words. Genuine care for their problems. They took the man’s words to heart, and thanked him for his help. Then they, too, left the temple.
The man thought he was finished. He was about to turn around and leave as well, when the last person came up to him. But this person was not like the others.
"Reverend Caius, it’s good to see you." The visitor walked up to Caius with a familiarity that the others did not have. He paused and corrected himself. "Or is it Bishop, now? Congratulations. I’m sorry that I was not there to celebrate your appointment."
The visitor stood in sharp contrast with the Bishop. While Caius was short, rotund, and balding from reaching his early 50’s, the visitor stood tall, handsome, and with a head full of blonde-golden hair. But that did not matter to either of them.
Caius spread his arms out, and smiled.
"Saint Theron! How have you been!"
Theron smiled back and embraced the Bishop. They held the hug for a moment, as they spoke. "Come now, Bishop Caius. You know you don’t have to be so formal with me."
"Same to you, Saint. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you." Caius clasped Theron’s shoulders. "How long has it been? Two— three years? It’s been far too long!"
"Indeed it has. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to visit you. I’ve been busy with missions, so I haven’t been in Xanderia as often. But now, we’ll be able to frequently meet up again," Theron reassured the older man.
"Ah, of course. The duties that come with being a Saint. It seems like it was only yesterday you were still the young rascal causing me trouble in the orphanage. Now look at you! I heard about what you did. Everyone knows about it! They were broadcasting it all across the country last week. You slayed the Fiend! You deserve your break, Theron!"
The Saint hesitated for a moment. He shifted uncomfortably, although the Bishop did not seem to notice. "I— thank you, Caius. But I feel as though I could have done better. Even with my miracles, my team... I wasn’t able to protect them. I was only able to save one."
"But you did save one, did you not?" Caius asked the question as he cocked a brow. "Even if you could not save the rest, you tried your best, and that’s what matters. But worry not, for now their souls shall rest with the Goddess."
Theron nodded. Then he took a deep breath, and spoke up. "About that, Bishop. I came here because I wanted to ask you about that."
"I’d have thought you kept up with your religious studies, Theron! I guess some habits die hard." The older man laughed. Then he saw the serious look on the Saint’s face. "...is something the matter?"
"Yes, it’s about the Fiend," the Saint sighed, and he asked his question. "I was wondering what happened to her soul. After she died. Does she… also return to the Goddess? Along with everyone else."
The Bishop blinked. He stroked his chin contemplatively, as he answered.
"Why, I do believe heretics are treated no different from sinners: they are judged on the weight of their sins. The less sinful one is, the sooner their souls will find their way back to the Goddess. But those who have committed grievous sins… the Goddess might never accept their souls. Certainly, one such as the Fiend might never be accepted by the Goddess. Not in the next thousand years, at least."
The Saint looked up. There was a flicker in his eyes, as he inquired again. "And there’s no exception to this rule?"
"Not that I know of." Caius shook his head. "But you should have already known this. Why the question?"
Theron paused. Then he just scratched his head and laughed. "Ah, I’ve just been so busy I must’ve forgotten. Thanks for reminding me."
The older man narrowed his eyes.
"If something’s bothering you—"
"Bishop Caius, your counsel is needed."
Both men turned around. A young woman dressed in robes bowed her head slightly at them. She regarded the Saint politely.
"Apologies for the interruption. But this is an urgent matter. The diocese is holding a meeting, and his presence is necessary for it."
Theron raised his hands and smiled. "It’s not a problem, Priestess...?"
"I am grateful for your patience, Saint." The young woman did not give her name. She kept her head down, as the Saint waited. Caius chimed in, and gestured at the woman.
"Saint Theron, this is Priestess Elenora. She’s a noble who gave up her title to join our parish because of… an unfortunate incident. Elenora, come, greet Saint Theron."
The Priestess raised her head slightly. "Saint Theron, it is an honor to meet you," she said softly.
"Likewise, Priestess Elenora." The man put out a hand, but she did not take it. She took a step back and bowed again.
"Bishop, if you will follow me." Elenora slowly turned, and slowly began to walk away.
Theron and Caius looked at each other, and the older man began to apologize. "I’m sorry about that. She has… problems when interacting with younger men. I assure you, she meant no disrespect."
"There’s no need to apologize, I understand..."
The Bishop nodded, and started to follow the young woman. But he paused. "Listen, Theron. If there’s anything…" he trailed off.
"I’m fine, Caius. Really," Theron said. The older man hesitated, but the Priestess was getting further and further away. The Saint
added. "Thank you for asking. But it’s not a problem."
"I see." Caius acquiesced. "Well, it’s been good to meet you again after so long. Do visit this old man once in a while."
"I will," the Saint promised. "Although you’re not even that old."
They laughed, and bade farewell.
It seemed like a normal conversation at first. A reunion between two old friends. There was nothing else to it.
But Caius raised the boy. He was there when the boy told lies. He was there when the boy cried for his parents. He was also there when the boy did his first miracle. And Caius knew, despite the reassurances, that Theron had seen something that had truly shaken him.
That had shaken his beliefs.
What is a miracle?
Theron did not know. He thought he knew what it was. He was a Saint, after all.
Miracles were supposed to be powers bestowed by the Goddess on those who were good. Truly good. Not the kind of everyday good which most people were. But those who were exceptionally good— who exhibited all the virtues of the Goddess, would be given the power of a miracle.
Of course, there have been reports of regular people performing miracles. People who were not especially kind or just. Some of those reports were clearly fabrications, but others have had multiple eyewitnesses. And while it was easy to dismiss all of them as hoaxes since some were verifiably fake, further investigator showed one thing in common with them:
They were always suffering.
Like how a boy stuck underneath debris suddenly got the strength to dig himself out. How a woman lost at sea suddenly could swim to the nearest port. How an old man struck with illness suddenly recovered.
These were miracles. Indisputably, they had to have been miracles. But these people never could repeat what they did. So the Church came to a conclusion.
A regular person could do a miracle, as long as they were going through great suffering.
The Goddess was taking pity in the cruelty of their situation, and bestowed upon them temporary powers. The kinds that Saints and Saintesses had. But just to help them escape their situation. Once they were no longer suffering, they could not do a miracle again.
So theoretically, anyone could do a miracle. As long as they were a regular person and they were suffering. But the first qualifier mattered more than the second. Because although being a regular person meant you were not the kindest person in the world, it especially meant that you were not evil.
Which must then mean, that the Fiend was not evil.
That was the only conclusion Theron had come to after thinking about it over the past few months. The Fiend was good.
She had to be. She performed a miracle before his very eyes. She was dead, and yet she could still move. She could still speak. She could still love.
Theron was not a fool. He would not deny what he saw. If it was some sort of trick, the Fiend would have killed him. But she did not. She died there and then. Only that she somehow lived for a little bit longer to save her daughter had to have been an act of the Goddess.
And her daughter...
The Saint shook his head. There was no use worrying about it. She could be dead for all he knew. If not from Monsters, then from hunger and dehydration. And although she was probably dead, there was still a chance that she lived. Which was why he—
"Saint Theron," a voice called out to him.
The man jerked, and he looked up at the speaker.
"Fria," he greeted the red-headed woman standing in front of him.
The Inquisitor— the only surviving member of his team— saluted him. "I was told you needed to see me, Sir."
"Be at ease. This isn’t a formal meeting. You’re no longer under my command."
"Yes Sir— I mean, yes Saint." Fria relaxed. But her face still held a stiff look. Theron did not comment further, as he was used to her rigidity. "So, uh, why did you want to see me?" She looked around the courtyard as she spoke.
This was not a public space. It was the military wing of the Xan Palace. Various individuals dressed in decorated uniforms passed by, yet some still eyed Theron. He was, after all, a Saint.
"I just wanted to check up on you. How have you been feeling since you returned?" he asked.
The Inquisitor blinked. "Oh, I've been given a break by the Grand Inquisitor himself when he heard that we killed the Fiend. I’ve also been getting a lot of attention because of that. And I’ve been doing desk jobs, but I plan on taking up proper missions again soon since... " She paused, and fidgeted on her feet.
"It’s good to hear that you’re doing good"— Theron shook his head— "but there’s no rush for you to get back into the battlefield. Your first mission went horribly wrong, and only I am to blame for that."
"Don’t say that!" the young woman protested. "I’ve been getting credit for something I didn’t even do. I was… impatient, and because of that I couldn’t do anything."
"Exactly," the Saint agreed. "Now you know better than to be impatient. So don’t force yourself to do anything you’re not prepared to do yet. Your mission… was more than most Inquisitors ever have to deal with. Take your break, and don’t fret over it."
The redhead’s face loosened. A light shade of pink came over her face, and she nodded. "Yes, uh, thank you, Ther— Saint," she mumbled.
The man smiled. Then he changed the topic.
"How’s the boy doing?"
"Adrian?" Fria’s expression changed. Her slight grin turned into a scowl as she folded her arms. "He’s been nothing but trouble in the Academy. Keeps on picking fights, and I swear he only has one friend. But his grades are good, and you were the one who got him in, so he hasn’t been expelled... yet."
Theron looked at her as she complained with a raised eyebrow. Almost like… an older sister.
"That’s good," he remarked.
Fria frowned. "What’s good? That he gets into fights or that he’s almost expelled?"
"Neither. That he’s got a friend. And that he’s studying well."
"Well, I’m not even sure if they’re friends. Not for her, at least," the Inquisitor muttered under her breath. "But he’s one of the top in his class. Could be the top if not for history and language. He keeps questioning his teachers history, and he refuses to speak with manners. And he does struggle with reading the Venerable Language, since it’s his first time learning it. But why are you asking me this? Is he still… not talking to you?"
"I’m afraid not," Theron exhaled deeply. "I believe the last time we spoke was when we first boarded the flying ship. And I think that was an accident. He seems intent on not acknowledging me or my existence."
The young woman snorted. "He should be more grateful. I don’t know why he’s so stubborn."
"Who knows?" the Saint said. He closed one eye, and peeked at her. "Maybe he gets it from you?"
"Hey, wait, I’m not stubborn! I—"
Theron laughed as the redheaded woman protested. Then, after they finished speaking, they parted, and the Saint felt his smile fade away.
He enjoyed that moment of reprieve. Where he did not have to worry about what happened in Villamcreek. What the Fiend had said. And that’s not to mention the whole situation in the Free Lands—
Then the man bumped shoulders into someone. He spun around and began to apologize. "My apologies, I—" Then he froze.
"Hello Theron, what a coincidence to meet you here."
Another young woman regarded him. She smiled as she greeted him. The Saint did not return it.
"Saintess Lilith," he spoke coldly.
"Please, Theron. We’re friends, right? There’s no need to use titles here. Just call me Lilith." The Saintess put an arm out, and the man shook her hand after eyeing it for a moment.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, as he backed away from her.
"Here? I was just enjoying a stroll. The Xan Palace is lovely, don’t you agree? Named after the Great Hero Xander. Ever wonder why he named everything after himself? Sometimes, I think he might be
a bit of a narcissist, you know? Just a little."
"No," Theron answered.
"No?" Lilith spoke innocently, as she tilted her head. "To what? That the founder of our Empire is a huge egomaniac, or that the Xan Palace isn’t a very nice place?"
"I did not ask why you’re here. I asked why you’re here. In Xanderia. You should be in the Gates of Hell."
"Oh!" the Saintess exclaimed as she pressed her cheeks with both hands. "You’re wondering why I’m not on Hell duty? That’s because they called me back."
"What? Explain."
"Come on, Theron. You’re being awfully rude to me. You know I hate demands," she said, and her eyes flashed.
They stared at each other for a moment, before she finally shrugged.
"But if you must know, I was doing my thing. Killing any of those Abomination-thingies that tried to cross the border. Keeping a tight lip on them, so word doesn’t spread about how these terrifying worse-than-Monsters have existed for decades, and could possibly overrun the world in a moment's notice. You know, so people don’t panic and start rioting and all that stuff. When suddenly, I get the news that these same Abominations popped up in the Free Lands and destroyed Bys, all because poor Theron failed his mission to stop the Cult."
"We did not fail. There was a complication," the Saint growled.
"Right, a complication. I wonder, what kind of complication leads you to where you enter a random village, kill their herbalist, orphaning a little girl."
"We did not just—" he cut himself off as he realized what Lilith had said.
Saintess Lilith leaned over to him, and winked. "Come now, did you really think I would not hear about this little girl that you oh, so conveniently, omitted from your reports? I thought you were an honest man, Theron. I’m sure you’ll get in a lot of trouble if people hear about this. It would certainly crush a lot of young women’s perception of you, the infallible, handsome Saint."
"...how did you find out?"
"It’s a secret. Unlike you, I know how to keep those." She grinned, then took a step back. "Anyways, to answer your original question: since you failed to catch those Devil worshippers and allowed them to unleash the Abominations on another continent, they called me back."
