Zina hesitated as she took a step forward, her hand outstretched toward the grieving woman. Her voice was soft and tentative, almost trembling with the weight of what she was about to say.
"Umm... miss?" Zina called out, her tone laced with a mixture of uncertainty and compassion.
The woman's tear-streaked face snapped up, her eyes wide and red from crying. Her body tensed as she instinctively pulled her daughter closer, her gaze darting between Zina and the surrounding area. The little girl, still clutching her father's lifeless hand, looked up at Zina with large, innocent eyes filled with curiosity and fear.
"Who are you, sister?" the girl asked, her voice small and trembling, the word "sister" carrying both hope and confusion.
Zina's heart skipped a beat at the question. The child's voice was so full of innocence, so devoid of the horrors she had just witnessed. Zina could see the glimmer of trust forming in those wide eyes, and it made her feel both honored and unworthy at the same time. She wanted to be someone the little girl could rely on, someone who could take away her pain, if only for a moment.
But before she could respond, the woman, still trembling, tightened her hold on her daughter. Fear flickered in her eyes as she looked Zina up and down, her voice shaky and tinged with desperation. "Are... are you a bandit?" she asked, her words faltering as she stared at Zina, searching for any sign of danger. The woman's fear was palpable, her heart clearly still gripped by the terror of the recent attack.
Zina blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. A bandit? The idea was so far from the truth that it almost made her laugh, but the situation was too dire for that. She quickly shook her head, realizing how out of place she must seem to them—a stranger emerging from the trees in the aftermath of such a horrific event.
"No, no, I'm not a bandit," Zina replied quickly, waving her hands in front of her as if to dismiss the very idea. She could feel the tension in the air, the fear that still lingered, and she knew she had to ease it somehow. But what could she say? How could she convince them that she meant no harm?
She tried to smile, but it came out as an awkward, lopsided smirk. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she stumbled over her words. "I—uh—I just... I'm here to help," she said, her voice wavering slightly. The words felt inadequate, almost laughable in the face of the tragedy that had just unfolded before them. She felt a pang of guilt, realizing how small and insignificant her offer must seem to them right now.
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, still filled with suspicion, but there was a flicker of something else—perhaps hope?—that Zina desperately clung to. The little girl, on the other hand, continued to stare at Zina with wide, trusting eyes, her grip on her mother's hand loosening just a little.
Zina swallowed hard, mentally kicking herself for her awkwardness. This was not the time to be playing games or making jokes, no matter how much her nervousness tempted her to. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts, to find the right words.
"I'm... I'm really not a bandit," Zina repeated more firmly, lowering her hand as she took another cautious step forward. "I just want to help you, I swear." She looked into the woman's eyes, willing her to see the sincerity behind her words.
But even as she said it, Zina couldn't help but think to herself how out of place she felt. Here she was, a newly minted goddess, unsure of how to wield her power or even how to speak to mortals in their time of need. It was all so overwhelming, and she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe.
The woman's fear began to soften slightly, though she still held her daughter close, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Zina could see the woman's inner struggle—wanting to believe, wanting to trust, but still haunted by the events that had just taken place.
Zina offered another, slightly more confident smile, though the awkwardness still lingered. She knew she had to break through that fear, to show them that she was truly there to help, not to harm. But how?
In the back of her mind, Zina couldn't help but think, *This is not a time to play bandits.* The thought almost made her chuckle, though she quickly suppressed it. This was serious—these people had just lost someone dear to them, and here she was, stumbling over her words like a nervous child.
But she couldn't let that stop her. She had to be strong, for their sake.
Taking a deep breath, Zina straightened her back and tried to project as much confidence as she could muster. "I promise you," she said, her voice more steady now, "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help, however I can."
The woman studied Zina's face for a long moment, her eyes searching for any sign of deception. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and nodded, though her grip on her daughter remained tight. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little, and Zina could see the beginnings of trust forming.
"Please... if you can help us..." the woman's voice broke, her strength giving way to the overwhelming grief that still gripped her. She didn't finish the sentence, but the plea in her eyes was clear.
Zina's heart ached at the sight, and she nodded resolutely. "I will," she said softly, her voice filled with a newfound determination. She didn't know exactly what she could do, but she would try. She would do everything in her power to ease their pain, to give them even a small measure of comfort in this dark moment.
As she stepped closer, Zina couldn't shake the awkwardness that still lingered in her mind. She was a goddess, yes, but she was also still Zina—still figuring out who she was and what she was meant to do. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
And as she approached the grieving woman and her daughter, Zina silently vowed to herself that she would find a way to help them, to make things right. Even if it meant stepping far outside her comfort zone, she would do it.
Because that's what a goddess of creation was meant to do.
Zina stood there, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold before her—grief, loss, and despair painted on the faces of the woman and her daughter. She could feel the weight of their sorrow, a heavy burden that tugged at her heart. The system's voice echoed in her mind, a calm reminder of her power.
"Master, you are the goddess of creation. If you want, you can create anything or do anything," the system said softly, its tone both reassuring and encouraging.
Zina's breath hitched slightly. She knew she had the power, but using it—especially for something so significant—still felt daunting. "Are you sure?" she whispered in her mind, uncertainty lacing her thoughts.
"Yes," the system replied with unwavering confidence. "You are the goddess of creation. You must utilize your power."
Zina took a deep breath, letting the system's words sink in. She could feel the immense energy coursing through her, waiting to be unleashed. This was her chance to make a difference, to bring hope where there was none.
"Okay," Zina said, her voice steady now, resolved. She turned to the woman and the little girl, both still lost in their grief. "Please don't tell anyone about this," she added with a hint of urgency, her eyes pleading with them to understand. "But I will create a miracle."
The woman looked up, her tear-streaked face filled with confusion and a glimmer of hope. The little girl, still clutching her father's hand, looked at Zina with wide, curious eyes, as if sensing that something extraordinary was about to happen.
Zina closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. She raised her hands, bringing her palms together slowly, feeling the energy within her begin to stir. The world around her seemed to fall away as she focused solely on the task at hand. Her body began to glow with a soft, golden light, a holy aura that radiated warmth and peace. The energy within her palms swirled and coalesced, forming a small, galaxy-like structure—a universe of creation within her grasp.
As she began to levitate, her feet lifting off the ground effortlessly, the golden light around her intensified, illuminating the area with a divine brilliance. Her voice, now imbued with an ethereal echo, rang out, "Revitalize!"
Her eyes snapped open, glowing with a powerful, holy yellow energy that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. The golden energy surged from her, spreading out in waves across the field, washing over everything in its path.
The effect was immediate and breathtaking. The once-dead soldiers began to stir, their bodies rejuvenated by the golden light. Wounds closed, and life returned to their eyes as they slowly stood up, looking around in awe and disbelief.
"Oh, we are alive! Wow!" one of the soldiers exclaimed, his voice filled with amazement as he touched his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
Another soldier, his face a mix of joy and astonishment, shouted, "Yeah, we are! This is incredible!"
The little girl, who had been holding her father's cold hand just moments ago, looked down to see him blinking, his eyes slowly focusing on her. "Father? Father! Don't die on me!" she had cried before, but now, her voice was filled with joy and relief. Her father's hand, once lifeless, now squeezed hers gently.
"Where am I?" her father murmured, his voice groggy but alive. He looked up at his daughter, his eyes softening as he saw the tears of joy streaming down her face. "Ahh... I feel relieved," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
The little girl threw her arms around him, crying tears of happiness. "You're alive! You're really alive!" she sobbed, her small body shaking with emotion as she clung to him.
The woman, who had been cradling her husband's body, felt him stir in her arms. She gasped, her eyes widening as she looked down to see him blinking up at her. "It's a miracle!" she whispered, tears of joy and disbelief streaming down her face. She clutched him tightly, her body shaking with relief as she hugged him close, the little girl nestled between them.
The soldier, still stunned, looked around at the others, seeing the disbelief and joy on their faces. "How am I alive? And the carriage... it's repaired!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder as he looked at the carriage, which now stood whole and unscathed as if it had never been touched by flames.
The little girl, her eyes still shining with tears, pointed excitedly toward the direction where Zina had been standing. "It was Sister!" she said, her voice filled with awe and gratitude. She looked up at her parents, her face beaming with happiness.
The husband and wife followed their daughter's gaze, searching for the mysterious sister who had performed such a miracle. But as they looked, there was no one there—Zina had vanished from sight.
Little did they know, Zina was still there, watching them from the safety of the trees. She had made herself invisible, hovering in the air as she observed the scene below. A soft, satisfied smile played on her lips as she saw the joy and relief on their faces. The weight of the world seemed a little lighter now, knowing she had brought them happiness.
"I love happy endings," Zina whispered to herself, her heart swelling with warmth as she watched the family embrace. This was what it meant to be a goddess of creation—not just to create, but to heal, to restore, to bring hope where there was none.
As she floated there, hidden from their view, Zina allowed herself a moment of peace. She had done something good, something that made a real difference. And that, more than anything, filled her with a sense of purpose.