[Note: Deleting this Novel on January 10 because this is just a sneak peak of my entry for WSA 2025. If you like the novel, please give comments so I can feel motivated to continue. However, it'll be reuploaded on January 11.]
Once upon a time, there was a Saintess so pure, so radiant, so irreproachably perfect that the world could barely look at her without bursting into hymns.
Her name was Serafine, and she spent her days bestowing blessings, banishing demons, and being a walking, talking symbol of everything good and holy.
But here's the thing about pedestals: they're awfully lonely.
And Serafine? She wasn't holy.
She wasn't pure.
She was bored out of her divine mind.
Behind her celestial smile was a woman who secretly fantasized about all the things a Saintess absolutely should not. Like drinking until dawn. Or punching a particularly self-righteous bishop.
Or her most damning thought of all, falling in love with someone forbidden.
And scandal? It came. Oh, it came.
One fateful evening, Serafine, in all her saintly wisdom, decided to attend the Grand Cathedral's annual charity gala. Mostly because she'd heard the wine was excellent.
She hadn't expected Lady Amaris to be there, with her emerald eyes, sinful smile, and the kind of laugh that made Serafine question every vow she'd ever taken.
"Saintess," Amaris had purred, leaning in scandalously close, "do you ever tire of being so... virtuous?"
Serafine had blinked, flustered. "N-no, of course not! Virtue is... uh, delightful. Big fan. Love it. Very pro-virtue."
"Hmm." Amaris's lips curved, wicked. "What a pity. You'd be so much more interesting without it."
In the end, Serafine and Lady Amaris found themselves alone in the lush church garden, their bodies pressed together as they breathed heavily. Serafine's deft fingers danced along Lady Amaris' inner thigh, teasing and tantalizing. "My, my," Serafine smirked, "I do hope no one catches us at this most... unholy act."
Lady Amaris bit her lip, stifling a chuckle. "Serafine, you wicked minx! What if someone sees?" she gasped, even as her hips bucked against Serafine's touch. "We're in a place of worship!"
"Shh..." Serafine whispered hotly in her ear before nibbling the lobe. "Maybe it'll inspire some... devotion." Her fingers delved deeper, stroking and circling, making Lady Amaris tremble with pleasure.
"Oh god, oh god," Lady Amaris panted, her face flushed and eyes rolled back. "Right there..." Serafine obliged, fingering her relentlessly as Lady Amaris clung to her, lost in ecstasy.
Just then, a priest rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the lewd display. "What in heaven's name?" he sputtered.
The aftermath was glorious chaos. Someone walked in. Someone fainted. By sunrise, the entire kingdom knew, and Serafine's reputation was deader than a saint's corpse.
The trial that followed was a theatrical masterpiece: shouting clergy, dramatic accusations, and Serafine sitting there thinking, Honestly, worth it.
And then, of course, the decapitation. A quick "any last words?" and a swift chop.
The end? Oh, darling, not even close.
Three days later, Serafine opened her eyes to find herself lying on a stone altar, bathed in eerie sunlight. A hooded figure knelt before her, forehead pressed to the ground.
"Welcome back, O Sun Who Burns The World," they intoned, reverent.
Serafine stared at them, then glanced at her definitely-not-decapitated neck. "I'm sorry, who burns the what?"
"You, O Radiant One," they said solemnly. "The destroyer of nations. The scion of chaos. The—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get the gist." Serafine sat up, rubbing her temples. "Okay, pause. You're telling me I'm not the Saintess?"
"No, O Blazing Majesty."
"So all that 'chosen savior' nonsense was...?"
"A misunderstanding, O Herald of Ruin."