"Child..."
I shuddered. The voice was both exquisite and terrifying, resonating like a melody sung by the universe itself. It sounded male, but there was something ethereal about it, as though it wasn't meant for mortal ears. Before I could fully process what I heard, my surroundings shifted.
The warm air of the temple vanished, replaced by an eerie stillness. The distant sounds of chanting priests, children's laughter, and the bustling temple crowd all faded away. It was as though the world itself had disappeared. I opened my mouth to call out, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.
"An—anybody?" I managed to whisper, barely audible even to myself.
"Unwind, child," the voice spoke again, calm and commanding.
"What… what is happening?" I tried to ask, but the voice interrupted me.
"I understand you have questions," it said, "but allow me to clarify. I am what you mortals call the God of Creation. Some call me by other names, though I doubt any mortal truly grasps the weight of those titles." He paused, as though weighing his words carefully.
"You, my child, are an unfortunate soul who has suffered due to an accident—a mistake caused by one of my fellow deities. He attempted to pass judgment on a wrongdoer—a mortal deserving of divine punishment. Such punishments are sacred and powerful, designed to strike at the very essence of the guilty. However…" His voice grew softer, almost regretful.
"While he was carrying out the sentence, you were in your mother Alicia's womb. The divine curse, meant for another, struck you instead. That is why you were born blind. It was neither your destiny nor our will for this to happen."
I froze, my thoughts racing. Anger? Confusion? Relief? It was a torrent of emotions I couldn't name. All my life, I had felt there was something strange about my blindness. Healing magic, even from the most powerful priests, had no effect on me. It defied all logic. Now, hearing the truth, I didn't know how to feel.
"I see you are silent," the voice continued. "Perhaps you are angry, and I cannot fault you for that. But allow me to explain further."
I stayed quiet, my mind swirling with questions. Yes, accidents happen, even among mortals, but I had always assumed the gods were infallible. How could beings so powerful make such a mistake? Sensing my turmoil, the god spoke again.
"I understand your doubts. You wonder how we, the divine, can.... It's not important. Let me tell you: most gods, save for the six pillars, were once mortal. They lived, struggled, and ascended to divinity. Their mortal flaws linger, though their powers have grown immeasurably. Even we six, who embody creation, destruction, and all in between, are bound by laws greater than ourselves.
"As for your current state, I have stopped time itself. The world outside this moment is frozen, allowing us this conversation without interference. To answer another question already forming in your mind: no, you are no longer in the temple. You are in my domain."
His words confirmed my suspicions. I wasn't in the temple anymore, and the sudden shift in temperature when I arrived made sense now. The thought that time itself had been halted—and that I had been taken to the god's domain—was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
"You are surprisingly calm," he said, almost amused. "Most mortals would be trembling by now. And yet, you are already analyzing the situation. Impressive. Now listen carefully, for I must explain why you are here."
I waited, the silence between us heavy with anticipation.
"You have suffered unjustly because of our carelessness. The Council of Six has decided you deserve compensation for the hardships you've endured. When the curse struck you, it scarred your soul. This damage manifested in your appearance—your pale skin, your white hair. Have you never wondered why you look so different?"
I had, of course. My unusual features had always drawn attention, though I never truly understood why.
"You are… beautiful," he continued, almost reluctantly. "This is a side effect of your purity. The curse that should have disfigured you instead highlighted your essence. Normally, divine punishment warps the guilty—makes them monstrous in appearance, their lives riddled with suffering. But you…" He hesitated, as though searching for the right words.
"The curse concentrated in your eyes," he finally said. "It robbed you of your sight but left the rest of you unscathed. However—" He paused again, his voice tinged with something I couldn't quite identify. Was it regret? Shame?
I remained silent, sensing his hesitation. It was clear he felt the weight of his responsibility, and perhaps even guilt. The gods, who were supposed to embody order and justice, had made a mistake. How could they reconcile that?
"You must understand," he said after a moment, his tone firm, "we are not omnipotent in the way mortals imagine. The balance of the world is delicate, and even the smallest error can ripple into chaos. That is why I have brought you here. To make amends. To grant you what you have been denied."
His words hung in the air, and for the first time, hope flickered within me.
"What… do you mean?" I asked hesitantly.
"I mean, child," the god replied, his voice steady and resolute, "I will give you the chance to reclaim what was taken from you. But first, you must make a choice..."