In the desolate hamlet of Selvius County, where the North’s relentless cold had scorched the land and monstrous waves of disease ravaged the populace, pain reigned supreme.
The privileged few turned a blind eye to the agony, for theirs was a life untouched by want.
Within a dilapidated dwelling, a lone woman lay prone on the cold, unforgiving floor—victim of the insidious ailment that had ravaged her frail form.
“Cough…Cough… ugh,” she rasped, her chest tight with each painful convulsion, her weakened body a canvas of torment.
The moonlight, feeble and icy, failed to offer solace in the heart of that bitter winter night.
Her torment was a tale of suffering writ large, a lament for the forgotten masses condemned to toil like ants for an uncaring queen.
In that snow-draped hovel, a young girl lay in restless slumber, her eyes marred by dried tears—a testament to the agony she bore, having witnessed her mother succumb to the cruelty of fate.
In that Cold and chilling night that was filled with convulsion’s sounds and suffering of a woman, as her groans filled the room before she lost her all energy and succumbed to the slumber.
The young girl lay on the broken-down floor, finding a meager comfort in dried grass and a feeble fire.
Suddenly, as if caught in a harrowing nightmare, she jolted upright, clutching her stomach in distress.
“Ha…haa…” she gasped, the biting cold on her skin snapping her back to reality.
She surveyed her surroundings, dread tightening its grip. ‘No, no, no, it can’t be.’
Panic surged through her as she realized her dire situation.
“M-mother,” she stammered, her eyes darting towards the woman groaning in agony nearby.
She pushed herself up and sprinted towards her.
“No, mother! It’s just a dream, right?” she pleaded desperately, her voice tinged with panic.
“Cough… what…” her mother managed to say weakly.
“No, mother! You will be fine. Just hang in there,” the girl reassured, swiftly taking her mother’s hands and trying to offer what little comfort she could amidst the relentless pain and suffering.
…..
In the biting cold wind that made even adults shiver, a somber scene unfolded on the town’s streets.
A small, determined girl pulled a two-wheeled cart, her mother’s weak body nestled within.
Her eyes, devoid of tears, blazed with an unusual emotion—anger.
‘Once I heal my mother and become Saintess again, I will definitely not let that monster eradicate the whole religion of my Goddess Fela,’ she vowed, her determination a beacon in the darkness.
For her, the faith in her goddess was supreme, a force that propelled her forward.
It was the goddess who had saved her mother, not some man who offered mere pity.
Her frail yet resolute form pulled the cart through the streets, indifferent to the passing bystanders who spared no more than a fleeting glance for the pitiful girl.
Reaching the end of the street, a prayer place stood tall, a testament to the wealth and devotion lavished upon this religion.
Donations and riches flowed in, a stark contrast to the impoverished reality of the girl’s life. Undeterred, she called out to a figure not far away, accompanying a rich nobleman, “Priest Kermit!”
Maintaining her composure, the girl turned her gaze toward the man, Priest Kermit, whose face was marred with a frown.
Panic and desperation surged through her as she witnessed him gesturing for the guards to remove her.
“No! Priest Kermit, save my mother!” she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation, but the guards seized her tiny hands and began to forcibly drag her away from the premises.
“Forgive me, Viscount, I will accompany you in a minute,”
Priest Kermit excused himself briefly, taking a step towards the distressed girl.
Hope flickered in her eyes at the sight of him showing some concern.
Summoning her courage, she pulled her hands free from the guards grip and folded them respectfully, emulating the demeanor of a saintess.
“Priest Kermit…”
*THUD*
Confused and bewildered, the girl looked in shock towards a distance as she lay on the cold ground.
The priest had callously kicked her, putting her in a degrading position underfoot, shattering any semblance of dignity she had left.
“You pathetic pest, how dare you speak my name with that filthy mouth of yours,” the man sneered, towering over the little girl who lay on the ground, her face pressed against the cold earth as he rubbed his boots against her.
“P…riest, I… Kugghhhh?!!” she attempted to speak, the words stifled and choked in her throat.
The young girl, trying to make sense of the ordeal, thought, ‘Maybe this is a test from the goddess,’ as she braced herself, enduring the torment.
“Don’t utter my name from your mouth, filth,” he spat, disgusted by the very notion of a beggar mentioning him.
He delivered another cruel kick to her abdomen, and though she fought back the tears, the pain was excruciating.
“Kughh,” she gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out, determined to endure the trial the goddess had seemingly set before her.
“Throw her away. Today, I am in a good mood, or I would have skinned this pest alive,” he barked, feeling a wave of revulsion at the vermin’s touch.
He held back his anger, not wanting to mar the good mood fueled by the generous donation from the Viscount.
“N-no, m-mother,” she managed to whisper, her heart breaking as her thoughts were consumed by worry for her ailing mother.
The girl, struggling against the pain and fatigue, tried to articulate her words, her voice barely a whisper as she curled into a ball, clutching her stomach.
“Tch, you got some luck, girl, or you would have become material for the priest’s boots,” a guard sneered, delivering another heartless blow.
*THUD*
The guard’s words still echoing, they callously tossed her onto the icy streets where a two-wheeled cart carrying her ailing mother lay.
The stark reminder of her fortune not to suffer the fate of becoming leather for the priest’s footwear.
“Ahh, no… stop,” she whimpered, her voice a feeble protest against the cruelty.
Lying on the frigid ground, unable to maintain consciousness, she felt herself slipping into darkness.
‘Maybe it’s just a dream,’ she tried to convince herself, unwilling to accept the grim reality.
But deep down, she knew it was an inescapable truth she couldn’t deny, For her it was one of many test Goddess planned for her.
Onlookers continued to pass by, indifferent to the plight of the little, fragile girl and the woman groaning with pain inside the cart—a stark reflection of the callousness of the world.
As time dragged on, the cold breezes cut through the air, causing the girl’s eyes to flutter from the pain that seeped through her entire body, compounded by the frostbite gnawing at her legs.
Summoning all the strength she had left, she slowly rose from her place, her burdened body supported by fragile, trembling hands.
She glanced around in a desperate hope, “No!”
Her anguished cry echoed through the desolate streets as she looked at the woman lying on the ground—a lifeless body now devoid of breath, succumbing to the unforgiving cold surface.
The harsh reality of loss struck her like a blow to the heart, leaving her in a desolate world, where compassion seemed to have no place.
“Mother!”
She crawled with her broken body toward her mother, her own being devoid of any warmth, lying on the chilling surface that had already extinguished what little life remained in her frail form.
“W-where is the cart!?” she cried out, unable to accept the reality of her mother’s demise, her mind refusing to grasp the loss she had just suffered.
She knew that even a single possession from the cart might have kept her mother alive a little longer.
“Why didn’t you send him again, Goddess?!” she screamed, her cries echoing in the desolate street.
She was alone, surrounded only by her pain and grief.
The tears, once held back by her resilient spirit, now flowed freely, mingling with the cold, unforgiving ground—a heartbreaking testament to a life stripped of solace.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
