Serafine quickly ducked out of the whorehouse, cloak pulled tight around her like a makeshift invisibility cloak.
She was on high alert as she made her way through the alleyway, keeping a keen eye on the shifty figures lingering in the shadows.
The slums were no place for a saintess, especially not one who had just been caught in the middle of such an adventure.
She had to make it to the carriage waiting for her, and sure enough, there it was, parked like a beacon of safety in the chaotic streets.
A man, looking way too confident for the place he was in, greeted her with a raised brow. "What took you so long, miss?"
She flashed her most innocent, angelic smile and straightened herself up. "Well, a person certainly doesn't change overnight. Especially not within a few hours," she said, her tone as sweet as a honeycomb. She had that perfected I'm a saintess, trust me smile on lock.
The man's face softened, like he was a knight in shining armor, basking in the glory of being in the presence of greatness.
"Perhaps," he chuckled. "But being beside the saintess feels like I've changed already!" He winked at her, as though they were in on some grand secret together. Serafine laughed along, enjoying the moment, before climbing into the carriage.
Inside, her oh-so-clumsy disciple, Calix Andros, was fast asleep, completely oblivious to the storm of thoughts that ran through Serafine's mind.
The poor boy, with his white hair and innocent sky-blue eyes, was a walking disaster. He was about 5'5", frail-looking, and was currently curled up in a ball like a kitten.
She sighed. "What's my disciple doing, sleeping through all this?" She muttered to herself, crossing her arms.
Suddenly, an exaggerated gasp broke through the air.
"AH!" Calix shot upright like a rocket, eyes wide and panicked, his hands flailing around like he was trying to fight off an invisible foe.
Serafine was blinking at the chaos in front of her. The man outside the carriage gave a confused look, wondering what exactly had just happened.
In the name of Aurelia, was she in the right mind to choose him?
"Oh, my saintess!" Calix gasped, suddenly sitting up straight in his seat, his white hair somehow looking more messy than usual as he frantically attempted to smooth it out.
Serafine raised an eyebrow, sighing. 'Great, just when I thought my day couldn't get worse...'
She had never planned on taking in a disciple. Honestly, who needed the extra baggage? But when she discovered that Calix had some sort of miraculous Ethos, her curiosity and maybe a little desperation, got the best of her.
In the world of Eryndal, every soul had something called Ethos, a power drawn from one's very essence.
It was an extension of one's soul, a manipulation of a concept tied to the ideals of the land they came from and their own. And in Calix's case, that power was "Lumen Sensus," a fancy name he'd given it himself. Of course he did. Because why not name your superpower after some dramatic Latin-sounding phrase?
Lumen Sensus granted Calix the ability to sense, amplify, and alter emotional states with the manipulation of light, empathy, peace, and emotional healing wrapped up in a neat little glowing package. For Serafine, it sounded like the perfect antidote to her ever-increasing stress.
As soon as she heard about it, she took him in. She needed relief, and this power seemed like it would be just the thing.
But as it turned out... dealing with this young man was almost as exhausting as her previous life.
She stared at him, his innocent, yet utterly clueless expression. Maybe the Ethos was a little too much for him or, in reality, maybe he was just a walking emotional wrecking ball.
"Ugh... I regret this decision," she muttered under her breath, and for a moment, the soft glow from his Lumen Sensus flickered faintly in response to her inner turmoil.
"Regret?" Calix tilted his head, those innocent sky-blue eyes peering up at her with curiosity. "You seem more refreshed than stressed, my lady saintess."
'Fuck!'
Right, of course his Ethos would make him sense her emotions. How could she forget that part? Now he probably knew exactly how frustrated she was with him. This day was going downhill fast.
"No more words or questions!" She snapped, swiftly pressing her fingers against his lips to silence him. His wide eyes stared at her, bewildered, but she couldn't deal with his innocent nonsense right now. "We have a duty to attend to..."
And with that, she finally motioned for the carriage to continue, eager to escape the slums. She was getting out of here, away from the dirt, the smells, the... regrets.
As the carriage rolled forward, she caught glimpses of children playing outside, their carefree laughter echoing in the air. It stung, just a little. They were so full of joy while she was knee-deep in... whatever this mess was.
She knew she was in trouble because it's Sunday. The day everyone came to her for blessings. The day she'd have to pretend like she had it all together. A saintess, supposedly wise and perfect. It would be chaos.
'Fuck!'
Okay, okay. No swearing. She was a saintess now. Aurelia... or whoever had decided to put her here... had given her a second chance.
Maybe her prayers had been answered. Or maybe this was just some cosmic joke. Either way, she had to keep it together. She took a deep breath, hoping the glow from Calix's Ethos would soothe her.
The carriage rattled onward, and Serafine tried to convince herself that she was ready for whatever ridiculousness awaited her at the cathedral.
After a few minutes of bumpy carriage travel, they finally arrived at the bustling church, with a crowd of people milling about, completely unaware that the saintess was in their midst.
The carriage bumped along, squeezing through a sea of others, until it stopped at the back of the church.
Serafine had only one thing on her mind: getting in, changing into her outfit, and making this whole charade look like it was part of the divine plan and she did just that.
"My saintess!"
Serafine became still at the familiar voice.
Before she could even take a breath, the door to the changing room swung open, and in he waltzed, none other than the Prince of Oradale, the one with hair as dark as a stormy ocean and eyes that practically burned with the radiance of the sun.
"Oh, how much I have been waiting for you," he said dramatically, dropping to his knees in front of her. "May I attempt to get your hand in marriage and be blessed by the blessings of Aurelia?"
'Motherfucker! He always does this every Sunday!'