The temple's heavy wooden doors creaked open gently, revealing a quiet interior bathed in candlelight. The aroma of burning incense enveloped Lynna, a comforting blend of cedar and lavender. Stained glass windows cast shimmering patterns on the stone floor, and the air felt thick with anticipation. A few villagers were deep in prayer, their whispered chants harmonizing with the soft glow of the environment.
As Lynna entered, Father Elandor, the village priest, noticed her from the center altar and made his way toward her. His head, bald and reflecting the light, emphasized his age, yet his kind, deep-set eyes sparkled with a wisdom gained from years of experience. Upon recognizing her, his face, lined with the marks of time, broke into a warm and welcoming smile.
"Lynna, my child," he greeted, "I heard about your misfortune."
Lynna gave a weak smile and replied, "Father Elandor, I had hoped my next visit would be on a more joyous note."
They walked together towards the altar, its golden surface gleaming softly. As they did, Father Elandor began the rite of healing, his hands moving gracefully as he started praying. Lynna closed her eyes and tried to let herself be enveloped by the ritual. Yet, a tiny voice in her head questioned the ritual's efficacy. She remembered all the past times she had been subjected to these rites, only to leave feeling unchanged.
After what felt like several hours, Father Elandor finally lowered his hands, looking exhausted and concerned. "I fear our efforts might not have been fruitful here", he admitted with a sigh.
"I don't know why your healing doesn't work on me. Truly, I've tried to embrace it. But every time I'm here, I can't help but compare these rites to the logical constructs of magic. They simply don't resonate in the same way," Lynna said.
Father Elandor looked kinder. "Belief, Lynna, comes from the heart. Magic has its rules, but faith goes beyond logic. The miracles we witness here are born from pure, unadulterated belief."
Lynna looked down, a hint of frustration evident. "But that's just it, Father. Somewhere in my heart or mind, I can't rationally accept these miracles. With magic, I can understand and anticipate its outcome, but here, it feels so... abstract."
The old priest took her hand. "Perhaps that's something you need to ponder on, my child. Miracles aren't meant to be understood; they're meant to be felt and received."
"Oh, and before you leave," Father Elandor added as Lynna absorbed his words, "the mayor mentioned wanting to speak to you about the incident."
Grateful for the change in topic, Lynna nodded. "I'll head there right after this."
After gracing the temple of a short prayer to Steia, she got out of the temple.
Navigating the busy streets that separated the temple from the mayor's home, Lynna felt her wound acting up. The discomfort was heightened by her recent time on the temple's cold altar.
She entered the office. The mayor's usual disorganized office starkly contrasted the serene ambiance of the temple. Almost nothing had changed since her last visit. She wondered if his wife had given up on tidying the room.
Gunthian Decker welcomed her. "Lynna, come in. I've heard about the creature you encountered. Tell me everything, and in detail."
Lynna recounted the events, her memories still vivid: the shadowy being, its eeriness, and the ensuing danger she faced. "This was truly a unique monster; we need to report this to the higher authorities," she concluded.
The mayor's face grew graver with each word. "This will attract unnecessary attention to our peaceful village. Lynna, dear, let me handle this on my end. I promise you I will find the right people to help us."
After taking some time to think about what she could do in her state, Lynna nodded, feeling unconvinced. He probably doesn't want this bizarre story to disturb his current profits, she thought.
The mayor smiled. "First, get some rest. Your wound looks quite serious to me. And I expect great results from you once you have recovered."
As Lynna left the office with a sour expression, the weight of her responsibilities pressed on her. But she could not do anything at the moment. She would turn eighteen in two months and hoped that would make a difference. For everyone to take her more seriously and also for the mayor to stop treating her as a convenience. She vowed that, at the very least, she would be more direct in expressing her disagreement.