Liria stood tall and proud, projecting as much dignity as she could.
Impossible magic swirled around her in luminous spirals, ancient formations layered atop divine blessings as reality itself bent and groaned beneath her will.
Others were watching her. Looking to her for guidance, for proof that everything remained under control. She refused to show weakness, or let her body sway from exhaustion.
But at least Liria was not alone.
She could feel Seris's precocious will straining alongside her, could almost picture the child's tiny form huffing and puffing as Seris worked hard. Under other circumstances, the image would have drawn a smile from her.
Her customary smile did not come.
The ritual had dragged on for far longer than she had expected, and the resistance from the dead god's fragment was… significant.
Still, it was almost over.
Her eyes tried to close. She forced them open. The world swam before her for a moment, the gleaming marble terraces of the Font blurring into pale bands of gold and white.
She focused her dazed mind on the ritual arrays suspended in the air before her, but her thoughts kept slipping loose, drifting away from her in soft, sleepy fragments.
Behind her, the Twelve Holy Sword Bearers knelt in quiet devotion. The seven High Priests raised their voices in sacred hymn, strengthening the blessings over the Font of Light. At the distant foot of the mountain, she could feel spatial magic stirring, believers gathering. A sea of humanity knelt, praying for the return of their Saintess.
Her passing comment had become a much bigger deal than she had expected. Her theory was plausible enough, but shouldn't more people doubt her? This was slightly overwhelming. Surely there wouldn't be more unexpected surprises… right?
She wanted to sleep.
Was Seris doing okay? She had prepared as much as she could. And everything seemed to be going well. Surely Seris was okay, right?
She wanted to sleep.
With all these people gathered, if Seris turned out not to be the Saintess, or even a girl for that matter, then it would be quite embarrassing for her, wouldn't it? Or would it be better? Surely no one would mistake her for a goddess after such a catastrophe… right?
Liria wanted to sleep.
Then a tidal wave of malevolence and rage slammed into her.
It came without warning, a vast psychic impact that crashed across her senses. For one frozen, horrible moment, her spell formations lurched out of alignment. The sacred geometries hanging in the air above the Font shivered. The cocoon of light surrounding Seris darkened at the edges. The mountain itself seemed to inhale.
Liria did not exactly snap awake. She was far too tired for anything so dramatic.
But her lethargic mind sharpened just enough to react. She calmly requested support from her sisters through their bond, rerouted more divine throughput into the stabilizing matrices, and tightened her grip on the ritual's core anchors with detached efficiency.
The Ritual of Inversion ground to a halt. But it held.
The sacred arrays screamed in silence around her, their runic edges sparking white and gold as impossible tensions rippled through them. Light bled from the symbols in thin threads. Beneath her feet, the holy water of the Font trembled in concentric rings.
She did not even have the energy to be angry.
Yes, she was exhausted. Yes, this had happened at the worst possible moment. And yes, it was deeply annoying.
It was also exactly what she should have expected from the dead god, that detestable Voidspawn.
Malignant hatred clawed at her barriers as the thing tried to seize control of her arrays. She could feel its presence pressing against the ritual from angles that should not exist, probing for weakness with stubborn and resilient spite.
For one brief, traitorous moment, Liria was tempted to just let it. She was so tired.
Then she remembered Seris looking up at her with those large, trusting eyes, and she held firm. The next time they met, the child's eyes would no longer be green, she reflected a little sadly.
Corruption started pouring from somewhere beyond reality, turning the glowing cocoon around her younger sibling black. The sacred gold of the ritual recoiled from it with furious hissing sounds, as if hot iron had been plunged into water. The corruption writhed over the cocoon's surface like living tar, trying to burrow inward.
A brief ripple of tension passed through those gathered behind her.
With a distant corner of her consciousness, Liria felt her elder siblings stirring beside her. Felt them tense, readying themselves to intervene. Behind them, the priests and paladins drew in sharp breaths, their voices wavering for only a moment before their prayers swelled once more with solemn conviction.
She absentmindedly directed the holy mountain to purge the corruption before it could take root. The black patches on the cocoon sizzled and evaporated, and she thought she could hear Seris gasping in pain. She probably should feel something about that, but she was just too tired.
Her siblings beside her settled and returned to their respective tasks with admirable discipline. She thought she heard Sir Theron mutter, in a tone of almost worshipful disbelief, "As expected of the Goddess of Life."
Liria chose to ignore him. Not now.
She moved in a haze, tracing the corruption to its source, and frowned lethargically inside her mind.
The dead god was… in a strange state, existing somewhere between reality and unreality. It existed nowhere and everywhere all at once, trapped in an eternal paradox. It strained against its prison with desperate, hateful force, reaching for Seris.
But the effort cost it dearly. Its spectral form flickered and wavered as reality itself resisted the intrusion.
Liria poured Mount Aurelis' holy wrath onto it for good measure.
Divine judgement roared from the Font of Light into the heavens above. Striking at nowhere and everywhere all at once. Striking at the dead god trapped beyond existence.
It resisted her. Somehow. Liria couldn't bring herself to care. But its form flickered and wavered even more. Was this good? She just wanted it to go away. She was so tired.
…
The stubborn thing did not go away.
Seris's cocoon of light continued to blacken and then sizzle clean under the mountain's purifying radiance. Divine wrath continued pouring into the heavens above. The dead god's spectral form continued flickering violently, twisting and warping like a broken reflection in shattered glass.
But. It. Just. Would. Not. Go. Away.
Liria's fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to sleep.
So she reached out with her mind across the real and unreal and finally addressed the thing directly, her voice short and clipped.
"Dead god Vhal. You cannot win. Be gone."
She would have liked to add that she wanted to sleep already, but she decided she was still dignified enough to keep that part to herself.
"My. Name. Is. Serivhal," it ground out at her, voice seething with rage. "Do not define me as you please, harlot."
Its voice sounded just like the Lich King's. Even its spectral appearance looked just like the Lich King's. So the thing had completely remade Seris in its own image in that bad future, leaving no trace of her cute younger sibling behind. Liria should probably have felt something very strong and dramatic about that revelation.
Instead, she just felt tired and offended on Seris's behalf.
"You have bad taste, dead thing," she replied dully. "But you will never be Serivhal, because I will never let you take over Seris. Be gone, broken remnant of a dead god."
And let her sleep already.
"I! AM! SERIVHAL!" It roared at her with incandescent fury. "I have always been Serivhal! I am the original! Your 'Seris' is an abomination! How dare you!? Liria Yggdris…"
The thing continued ranting. Something about cosmic war crimes, violations of primordial law, and her perversion of the true and proper order of existence.
Liria decided she did not care much.
"What have you done to my Seris?" She cut it off mid-rant.
There was a sharp pause.
"Your Seris?" Vhal bit out. For some reason, it sounded even angrier now.
Liria considered that.
Had the Lich King she had known ever been this angry? Or this verbose? Or this embarrassingly rant-prone?
Oh.
So the focus and restraint must have been stolen from her Seris, then. That abominable thing. How dare it.
Vhal had started ranting again. Disgraceful, really.
About how its infinite legions must have already killed "that lowly broken vessel" by now, and how Liria had failed, and how all her interference had accomplished nothing but delaying the inevitable.
Liria did not believe a single word. Her Seris would never lose to this broken thing.
Perhaps in a bad future, if the poor child had continued to be isolated and ground down by an uncaring world, then yes, maybe. Maybe eventually. But not now. And Liria would never let that happen. Ever.
Then something in the air shifted.
It was subtle at first. A change in pressure. A softening in the resistance of the ritual. A resonance beneath the mountain that had not been there a moment before.
And then Liria felt Mount Aurelis itself rejoicing.
The sensation rolled through the holy peak like the first breath of dawn across a frozen valley. The stone beneath her feet warmed. The ancient sacred wards embedded throughout the mountain began to hum in harmony, and once again Liria heard the song of the mountain, that heavenly choir that had greeted her when she had first set foot upon Mount Aurelis.
It rose around her in layered, wordless beauty.
And then a small, clear voice rang out from earth and sky.
"I vow."
Seris's voice was small and clear and impossibly steady.
The sound of it carried through the sanctuary like the toll of a silver bell, delicate and pure and somehow vast enough to fill the mountain.
"Where there is darkness, I shall be light.
Where there is suffering, I shall be mercy.
Where there is evil, I shall be judgment."
Liria felt white-hot pride and relief lance straight through her chest. The sheer force of it nearly stole her breath.
The intensity of the emotion surprised her so badly that for one dizzying moment she thought her knees might finally give out then and there. Instead of sleepiness, she now felt lightheaded, almost unmoored, as if the world had tilted beneath her.
It was all she could do to remain standing. To keep her expression serene and composed.
Behind her, the gathered clergy had fallen into stunned silence. Then the first sob broke somewhere among them.
"I vow," Seris continued, and now Liria recognized the words. Recognized, too, the convergence of faith toward the mountain peak.
"...to burn as beacon, to stand as shield, and to endure as hope for all who live beneath the Light."
This was the vow. The vow past Saintesses of Light had made to receive the world's blessings before accepting their holy mantle. The place was right. The people gathered… were right. The conditions were right. But… how was this happening?
What exactly had happened inside that cocoon?
"I vow," Seris said, her voice brighter now, stronger now, ringing throughout Mount Aurelis with sacred clarity, "in the name of the Three Goddesses…"
Liria's mind whirled. She felt the world itself resonating with each word. Felt the gathering of blessings and faith and divine acknowledgment. Felt old laws, ancient and hidden, stirring in recognition. This should not have been possible.
"...that no shadow shall find the people undefended while I yet draw breath."
It was not enough to be born with the holy power and the stigmata.
Past Saintesses of Light had needed to prove themselves through an arduous journey of pilgrimage before their oath would be accepted by the world. They had needed to walk sacred roads, endure trials, bear burdens, and emerge with their souls tempered into something worthy of carrying hope for others.
The difference between a Saintess who made an empty oath and a True Saintess was the difference between a transient symbol and an eternal legend.
"So long as I endure," Seris said, "I shall guide, I shall guard, and I shall not fail this sacred charge."
The covenant was made. The oath completed.
Clouds parted in a great spiral over the summit, torn wide by descending shafts of radiant gold. Sunlight poured through in living columns, and within that impossible brilliance Liria saw vast wings of light unfurl for the span of a heartbeat before dissolving into drifting feathers of fire. The entire peak shone like a second dawn.
Liria finally stopped resisting the obvious conclusion. It made sense, in a way. Seris had made the most arduous pilgrimage of them all.
She had fought the dead god's taint for years in isolation. Endured horror and loneliness and spiritual violation without surrendering the innocence and purity at the core of who she was. Alone. Unseen. Unpraised. Unprotected.
This was a trial that would have broken all past Saintesses. Seris deserved this. But wasn't she too young? Wouldn't this make her the youngest True Saintess in history?
The world spun around her. Round and round and round. Liria no longer wanted to sleep. She wanted to faint. Needed to faint. Preferably immediately.
Still, she endured. It would not be proper to collapse before greeting her younger sister after Seris had worked this hard.
In a very distant corner of her awareness, she noticed the dead god Vhal screaming as its head burst into holy fire, the connection to its nether-space cutting off. Good.
Behind her, the High Priests and Knight Paladins of the Church of Light were openly weeping with joy while praising their newborn Saintess and the Goddess of Life, Great and Merciful Mother.
Odd. Shouldn't it be the Goddess of Light, Great Guide and Guardian? They had the wrong Goddess. Was the Church of Light really all right with such careless leadership?
"Praise the Goddess of Life," her brother's Aethon voice rang out in solemn pronouncement. "You have found the Saintess buried and forgotten in the darkest place, and returned her to the light. You have returned to the Church the most talented Saintess in its long history. The world will forever remember your grace."
"All hail the Great Mother," Vaelir said with quiet dignity, "Long may she reign."
Then his voice rang out in her mind, insufferably smug. I told you your 'grand strategy' would never work, little sister.
A full minute passed before Liria realized that she had just been teased. It took all she had to remain standing and keep her serene smile flawless.
By then, all her siblings had turned toward her in concern. Ilyrien had discreetly extended a telekinetic grip to support her balance. It settled around Liria like invisible hands at her back and elbows, subtle enough to be unnoticeable, firm enough that she no longer had to spend active effort on the act of remaining upright.
Liria? Little sister? Are you all right? Their voice rang out with gentle warmth inside her mind. Liria loved her family. Really loved them.
After I praise Seris and tell her to be good, I will need you to immediately take me away from here, she pleaded. Can you do that for me, sister?
Ilyrien gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She felt her telekinetic support becoming just a little firmer. Liria loved her family.
The glowing cocoon surrounding Seris finally scattered into glittering golden motes. The sacred water of the Font rose to greet the newborn Saintess in smooth, shining ribbons, enveloping her in liquid light.
Dark cloth unraveled into brilliance, black giving way to white and gold as holy vestments formed around her small body in soft folds and luminous trim. Fine embroidery of sacred sigils shimmered into being along the hems. A mantle of pale radiance settled over her shoulders. Light gathered at her sleeves and collar like woven dawn.
She descended through the final curtain of glittering motes and landed with immaculate grace upon the water's surface.
Ripples of living light spread beneath her dainty feet. The entire sanctuary seemed to hold its breath. Seris lowered herself into a clumsy little curtsy. Even that looked holy and lovable when she did it.
Liria inclined her head and opened her arms. Seris immediately dove into them in a blur of shining golden hair and shimmering white cloth. It was only thanks to Ilyrien's support that Liria remained standing.
"The ugly skeleton was so mean! It was so hard and painful!" Seris cried into Liria's chest, words slightly muffled. Her small hands clutched fistfuls of Liria's robes with absolute trust. Then she proudly lifted her chin and looked up at her with eyes as blue as the midsummer sky, bright and clear and alive with victory. "But I did just as you taught me, and I won!"
Liria stared down at her in a daze. Seris puffed up further under the attention.
"I beat that skeleton! I beat it very, very badly. It was evil and deserved it!" she continued in a righteous huff. "But then it ran away! That skeleton is a coward! Its name is Cowardly Skeleton from now on!"
There was a tiny, scandalized choking sound somewhere behind them. Liria assumed it came from one of the High Priests. She ignored it.
What was this adorable creature? Liria had always known that Seris would look very cute if she were healthy. Her predictive models had not prepared her for the reality.
She took in the large, expressive blue eyes. The soft golden lashes. The fluffy pink cheeks. The lips like cherry blossom petals.
Her dizziness increased a thousandfold. This was a cuteness that could kill.
"Did Seris do good, Big Sister?" her little sister asked, gazing up at her with sparkling expectation and complete confidence in the answer. "You can praise Seris now!"
Liria's consciousness nearly cut off.
"I'm proud of you, Seris," she said, keeping her voice serene and gentle with truly monumental effort. The child's entire face lit up.
"You are truly my proud little sister."
The statement settled into the world with strange, sacred weight, as though reality itself had chosen to remember it. The mountain hummed softly beneath them. The holy water around their feet shimmered brighter. Something warm and ancient brushed against her soul, acknowledging the truth of what she had said.
The Goddess of Life had Liria's siblings, and had never needed a Saintess. But if there were a Saintess of Life, then it would be Liria. She was not the Goddess of Life herself. Definitely not. But that much, at least, she could concede.
Which made Liria and Seris the truest of sisters.
In that bad future, Liria thought she had lost six siblings. But she had in fact lost seven. And she had never even known it.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
Liria closed her eyes and hugged Seris tighter, and her little sister giggled happily in her arms, warm and solid and alive.
Never again. Liria vowed to the world and herself. I'm sorry I was so late, Seris. But I'm here now. May your life be only filled with happiness, my precious little sister.
"You were amazing, Seris." Her voice came out softer than before.
Liria leaned on Seris just a little and buried her face in her little sister's golden hair. It smelled faintly of sunlight and clean water and flowers, and there was something heartbreakingly innocent about it.
"Big Sister will praise you lots and lots later," she murmured, "but Big Sis needs to sleep for a little while now. So wait for me, be good, and listen to my siblings, all right?"
"All right!" Seris chirped immediately, then gasped.
"Oh no. Big Sister, are you sleepy because Seris was too much trouble?" Her voice turned teary. "I will make it up to you. I promise!"
Liria smiled fondly and patted her little sister's hair in reassurance
"No, little one," she whispered, pressing one last kiss on Seris's brow. "You were perfect."
Then she allowed unconsciousness to claim her.