What the hell was happening? Was this some kind of cult?
No, this couldn't be a cult. There were no creepy chants echoing through the cathedral, no one was holding a suspicious bowl of bubbling liquid, and, most importantly, no oversized goat statue looming ominously in the corner.
Wait, scratch that.
There was an unsettling amount of bowing. And was that guy over there crying? Like, full-on sobbing?
Yikes.
Cult vibes were at least at a solid 7 out of 10.
But no, no! This wasn't a cult. Probably. There were no awkward matching robes and no one was talking about "ascending to the next plane" or offering pamphlets promising enlightenment with suspicious grins.
Still, the wide-eyed reverence and the shouts of "Our saintess!" weren't exactly calming her nerves.
Cult or not, she was the center of attention and she wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
"You there! Kill the twin! That is the one who will burn our world! A disgrace! But not in this cathedral!" barked one of the cloaked men with the commanding presence of a cranky bishop who hadn't had his morning coffee.
Ah, yep. This was starting to definitely feel like a cult.
I mean, sacrificing goats is one thing, but a baby? That's hitting cult-level crazy at warp speed.
The man in question wore all the hallmarks of "important religious figure" attire: big hat, flowing robes, and the air of someone who would scold you for breathing too loud during mass.
Amihan scanned the room, her tiny baby eyes taking in the stereotypical Christian-like decor stained glass windows, high vaulted ceilings, and a suspiciously unrecognizable statue in front of her. Oh, and that giant crystal she had apparently touched. Was this thing the baby zapper or what?
"Yes, sire! I will discard the child immediately!" another cloaked figure responded with unsettling enthusiasm and left.
No, no, NO! This was a hard pass!
Just moments ago, she had been ranting about how God wasn't real. And now? She was stuck in some squishy baby body, hailed as a saintess, and witnessing a baby murder plot. If this was divine retribution, it was both swift and unnecessarily theatrical.
Honestly, this wasn't doing a great job of rekindling her faith. If anything, it felt like God was doubling down on the chaos.
She flailed her tiny limbs, trying to speak, to yell, to do something! But the only sound that escaped her lips was a pathetic squeak.
"The saintess is speaking for the first time!" one of the zealots gasped, their face lighting up like they'd just seen a miracle.
"The saintess indeed!" another chimed in, practically vibrating with excitement.
Oh, come on! How was anyone taking this seriously?! All she'd done was squeak like a chew toy!
The room had devolved into chaos, with the men squabbling over who got to hold her like she was some sort of divine hot potato. But before things could escalate into a full-on brawl, a soft yet commanding voice sliced through the noise like butter.
"Please treat our saintess kindly… She's a gift from Aurelia," the woman said, stepping forward. She was clearly a nun, judging by her modest, all-covered attire. Her gentle expression and soft eyes radiated the kind of warmth that could make you forget you were in the middle of a potential cult headquarters.
She smiled sweetly and, without hesitation, scooped up Amihan as if she weighed nothing more than a loaf of bread.
"How about the virgin Marie?" one of the men piped up.
Virgin Marie? Amihan's brain screeched to a halt. Hold on, is that my mother? Oh, no. No, no, no. Was this another knockoff Bible situation? The one where some "virgin" mysteriously ends up pregnant with a divine baby? Seriously, how many times were they going to reuse that plotline?
"She is being treated well in one of the rooms," the nun replied calmly, her tone as serene as a lake at dawn.
Amihan looked up at the nun's face.
Mama mia... She's gorgeous.
Before she could stop herself, her squeaky baby noises morphed into excited squeals, and she waved her tiny arms enthusiastically. The nun's face lit up, absolutely delighted.
"My little girl," the nun cooed, patting her head with a tenderness that made Amihan's baby heart flutter against her will.
She was just about to squeal again in response when reality came crashing down. The twin! The one they were planning to off like yesterday's leftovers! She had to do something!
Her excitement turned to frantic wailing, tears streaming down her tiny cheeks.
"E-Eh?! What's happening? Why is she crying all of a sudden?" the nun panicked, her soothing aura flickering like a faulty lightbulb.
Amihan cried harder, her little fists clenching in protest. 'They're about to murder a baby! Somebody do something!'
Sadly, there was absolutely nothing she could do. Just like in her past life, when she couldn't stop her country from spiraling into chaos thanks to internal corruption and political betrayals. Why, oh why, was she always stuck in these dramatic death traps? It was like the universe had a subscription plan for unfairness with her name on it. Betrayal, rebirth, rinse, repeat. She cried even harder, her tiny baby lungs working overtime in the nun's arms.
"My little girl..." the nun cooed, her voice as soft as a lullaby. "There is no need to cry… You will be the savior of this world. Our dear saintess…" She patted Amihan's trembling head like she was trying to comfort a particularly grumpy kitten.
"You are our dear little Serafine..."
Her? The savior? Serafine? What a cosmic joke! She couldn't even save herself from being reborn into this mess. How was she supposed to save a whole world? She didn't even know where she was! Was this Earth, or some low-budget fantasy knockoff?
The nun, oblivious to Amihan's internal meltdown, started walking down the church aisle, leaving the bowing men behind.
Amihan or rather, Serafine continued crying, her paranoia reaching new heights.
As pretty as the nun was, her words did not reassure her. Instead, old anxieties bubbled up. Was the legislature a wreck? Were people rioting in the streets? Back in her office, she could never leave her desk without feeling like the world might implode the second she stepped away.
Lost in her spiral of overthinking, the sudden creak of a massive door opening yanked her back to reality. A gust of wind swept through, and sunlight blasted her sensitive baby eyes like a tactical flashbang.
'Gah! So shiny!' she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and grimacing.
"Presenting… Serafine. Our savior!"
Before she could process the declaration, the nun raised her high into the air like she was reenacting The Lion King. That's right! That was the movie.
Amihan blinked furiously, her watery eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness.
What greeted her wasn't just blinding light. It was a crowd. A huge crowd, all shouting and raising their arms like they'd just been told free bread was on the menu.
Judging by everything - the massive, unrecognizable statue smack in the center of the church, the medieval décor that looked like it had been yanked straight out of a history textbook, and the people shouting in pure, borderline fanatical joy. She pieced it together. This wasn't just time travel. Oh, no.
She'd been... transmigrated.
She was so stunned she forgot to cry.
"Oh? Did our little baby stop crying already?" the nun cooed, clearly delighted, as she cradled Amihan, or rather, Serafine closer. "Look at all those people who are looking up to you… our little savior…"
No way. She'd actually been transported into another world. Into another body. This wasn't some fever dream; this was real.
Her brain scrambled for an explanation. Could she have been wrong all along? Maybe God did exist. Maybe this was her cosmic reward for every good deed she'd ever done in her past life. That made sense, right? Yeah, totally.
Her tears vanished in an instant, replaced by an involuntary glow that lit her up like a divine lantern. Gasps rippled through the crowd below.
"This truly is our saintess!" someone shouted, their voice trembling with awe.
'Ah… I'm glowing...' she thought, marveling at herself like a child discovering glitter for the first time. Her eyes drifted upward, narrowing at the sky. 'But why me? I never even believed in you.'
No booming voice from above answered her. Instead, everything around her, the cheering people, the holy nun, the medieval vibes, was the answer.
And oddly enough, she felt… excited. Unusually excited.
'Fuck you, Leonardo!' she raged internally, practically giddy. 'Fuck that country! Fuck Earth!'
Then, a thought crept in, making her metaphorical halo flicker: 'Oh, whoops… Is a saintess supposed to swear?'