My Wonderful Second Life

Chapter 79- Golden Judgement

Light erupted from the cerulean sky as a vengeful ray, morphing into millions of tiny stars that formed a golden crown. Then they began to rain, transforming into a sword whose handle encompassed the whole capital, while its blade was falling into the Queen's Throne room.

The Goddess had spoken. Her judgement had been proclaimed.

Although for some it had yet to be discovered.

***

The water at the holy fountain had always been bitterly cold. Every time Belladonna would put her feet in its translucid water, she should shiver. And that day was no different. Still, she carried on, like she always did, submerging ankle-deep to cast her blessing and to produce the so-desired Holy Water. Capable of minor miracles, or at least that was the intention. Its efficiency had seen better days.

It was a morose process, which could last for hours and bring lacklustre results. Although, it was not always like that. In the old days, the High Priestess would lock herself in this cavernous room, where water was born out of the hands of the Goddess statue, pooling into her feet, to create miracles with their prayers.

Yet to Belladonna this was nothing but a torturous endeavour, having to face the cold and the darkness of this closed-off room, while she prayed as hard as she could. Several candles stuck on the walls provided some light, preventing her from falling into complete darkness. But she knew, as she looked up, above the crowned head of the Goddess, that the ceiling was less old than the walls that surrounded her.

They used to say, while she was an apprentice, that light was not needed in the holy room. And she used to believe them. Her eyes then travelled to the serene face of the Goddess, a gentle smile gracing her lips. They moved along to her arms and hands, which were open and carrying a heavy sword. Laying at its centre was a crown of flowers, laying there, petals falling onto her feet and water as if carried by the wind, although they were made of solid rock.

Belladonna was lost in the Goddess's image. She knew the priests had lied. She knew a long time ago, after years of trying to bless the Holy Water, to bring it to its former glory only to face disappointment and the sad reality. That the priests feared their goddess.

She, however, did not.

A Goddess that kept herself quiet for centuries was nothing more than a myth. A story used to morph their people into worshipping them. So even though she never accomplished more than a handful of usable Holy Water, Belladonna did not care. Instead, she faced the God she once revered and smiled, triumphant in the silence.

It could be hard without the Goddess' blessing. Questions would always arise, doubts would materialise in the hearts of the High Priests, and yet she would survive. Their fear of the Holy Light would make it so. And her power would be untouchable still.

Her feet took her away from the water and she turned, facing now the large stone doors that enclosed the space. She wanted to laugh whenever she left, always remembering the little girl she once was, who prayed for days and days and would cry when she received nothing but silence.

Now the silence was a blessing.

On her way to the door, she felt her feet regain some heat, droplets of water falling from her fingers and creating a lonely melody that echoed with her small steps.

She still felt cold.

But then, she felt warm.

The droplets started to evaporate even before they left the tips of her fingers. Her skin and wet feet were now as warm as if she were walking in hot sand. The air, once stale, became constricted and her stomach lurched. The silence was turning itself into a daring prelude to misfortune.