Over the week, Serafine had found herself delighting in tormenting Clara, not out of any grand conversion plan, but because, quite frankly, she was still boiling over all that drama and needed someone to channel her frustration on. She lounged in the chair, sipping her morning tea as Calix and Mariella dug into their breakfast.
"Clean it harder! There's a spot there!" Serafine declared, pointing to a speck of dirt that was barely noticeable. "And there! Oh, and there too! Can't miss that one!"
She was on a roll, finding the most insignificant bits of dust and grime to target. But to her surprise, Clara, clearly on the edge of snapping, just gritted her teeth and cleaned each speck, no matter how tiny.
'You know, I finally get why people in the past had slaves and not employees. Who even wants to pay someone when you can get them to do all this for free?'
"Come on! Hurry it up!"
The poor girl washed dishes, sweeped floors, scrubbed windows, folded laundry, dusted shelves, and polished silverware.
It was as if Serafine was trying to create an entire cleaning marathon, and she was the only cheerleader, except there were no cheers, just orders.
"You can do better than that, can't you?!" she teased, watching with a mischievous grin as Clara scrambled to keep up.
"Are you sure about what you're doing?" Calix sighed dramatically, crossing his arms as he watched Clara hustle to complete every menial task Serafine ordered.
Mariella pressed a hand against her cheek, eyes wide with sympathy. "I'm starting to feel bad for the little thing."
"This girl almost outed us," Serafine pointed out, his voice full of concern.
"And this is your genius plan for converting her?"
"Maybe,"
As the night stretched on, the air thickened with an eerie stillness, the fading light of the day dancing on the horizon like a last fleeting whisper of sunlight.
The world outside seemed to hold its breath—trees swayed gently in a cool breeze, and the moon peeked out, casting a silvery glow over the landscape.
It was a moment of quiet until Serafine kicked open the door. "Cook this!" she announced, her voice booming like a queen giving a royal decree.
In her hands, she presented a bounty of meat, vegetables, and spices, as if it were the most ordinary of requests.
Clara, who was just about to collapse from her never-ending chores, held her breath as Serafine's words kept her standing up.
Her hands, already quivering from exhaustion, felt the crushing weight of yet another task. For a split second, she wavered, caught in the overwhelming desire to just... fall. But she held herself together, barely, clutching her fists like they were her only lifeline.
"Yes, lady savior..." she muttered, her voice dripping with reluctant submission.
At least this time, Clara had the confidence of a chef.
She chopped, stirred, boiled, and before long, the most aromatic beef stew filled the air, a victory in a sea of endless chores. With a satisfied nod, she served it to the three of them. "I'll take my leave and go to the nearby river..." she said, her words laced with a hint of escape. Of course, she had nowhere to go, this village was her prison, and the river... well, it was just a dramatic place to pretend she was free.
Serafine, meanwhile, was already devouring the stew as though it were the first meal she'd seen in years. "Don't run away!" she ordered, her mouth full but her tone unmistakably firm.
"I won't, lady savior..." Clara muttered, already making her way out the door, but with an undeniable twinge of sarcasm that the other two felt.
She stepped outside, but of course, just minutes later, Serafine had appeared by her side, as if she had an invisible leash tied to Clara's wrist.
The lake was a hidden gem, tucked away behind towering trees with golden leaves that swayed lazily in the breeze.
The water shimmered under the moon, a sapphire of color, so clear that even the fish swimming below looked like they belonged in an expensive art piece.
Dragonflies zipped across the surface, their wings catching the light like tiny stained-glass windows, while the air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers.
Serafine, of course, didn't walk to the lake. She sauntered with all the grace of someone who owned the land itself.
"Ahhh, nature," Serafine sighed, stretching her arms as if she had single-handedly blessed the scenery with her presence. "It's almost too peaceful. Makes me think something horrible is about to happen."
Clara side-eyed her. "Why would you say that?"
"I wonder."
Serafine tapped her chin, pretending to be in thought. 'Wow, it's so entertaining making fun of someone so disheartened.' In addition, she didn't need to think much about the slave part. It was easy to not recognize someone's human rights.
No rights, no fuss, no need to ask for permission to take them away.
She gave the lake a thoughtful glance, then shifted her gaze back to the girl.
"You... You're the fake saintess, aren't you?" Clara said, settling down on the riverbank with a look that was rather solemn.
"How did you...?" The woman gaped, her eyes wide in shock. "But you're from this godless village! No one here even knows who I am, it's not like anyone cares!"
"I cared once upon a time," the girl said with a shrug. "I even tried to pop by every now and then, like a ghost in the night. But, of course, you wouldn't have recognized me. You can't really see the faces of the people you were too busy listening to..."
Everything was starting to click. This girl wasn't part of some grand organization or secret society. She was just a regular, hopeless soul who had happened to know her face, understood her true nature, and, by some bizarre twist of fate, uncovered the truth.
"So, is that why you were trying to take me down?" the woman asked, a little breathless.
"Well, it was already tough enough when I tried to believe, only for it all to turn out fake," the girl said, her voice suddenly serious. "And now you're out here trying to make everyone else believe in you again?" She frowned, then traced shapes in the dirt with her finger.