High Priest Mirose was completely surrounded. The situation was chaotic, but one thing was certain: Simurid Kormadino had failed. The demonic creature he had summoned had turned on them. While they had managed to escape the plaza, more than half of her guards had been slaughtered.
Kormadino—what an incompetent fool he turned out to be. Pathetic!
Mirose bit her lip and unconsciously reached for the lightning staff hidden in her robes. The divine election of Luffe Aros, which was supposed to elevate her to the position of archpriest, hadn’t even begun. But this wasn’t over yet. The upheaval would inevitably delay the election, but if she could only ensure the votes were cast, she would win. She had been careful to dispose of any evidence linking herself to Kormadino, so for now, she just needed to reach her manor. But blocking her path in the dark alleyway was a band of armed soldiers. And heading them was the last person she wanted to see.
“Where do you think you’re going, High Priest Lawin Mirose?”
Mirose hated that voice. It’s owner, Mavika Reagar—Captain of the Third Order of the Holy Knights—emerged from the ranks of knights encircling the plaza. She was clad in her infantry armor, sword at her side and shield raised high. There could be no mistaking her presence. Trailing just behind Mavika was a young woman in a flowing white robe, her face veiled. It could only be Seedia, the Goddess of Prophecy.
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“Get out of my way,” Mirose demanded. “I must return home and start planning, since the election has been postponed.”
“‘Postponed’? You’re mistaken.” Mavika’s voice rang out, clear and strong, belying her age. “The election is already over.”
“…What are you talking about? Didn’t you see the chaos…?”
“And yet there were high priests who stayed behind to protect the people and vote, and they elected Nicold Ibuton as the next archpriest.”
That shouldn’t have been possible, but Mavika’s tone was matter-of-fact, her expression devoid of triumph. And to Mirose, that was the deepest form of humiliation.
“While it was only nine votes, it was unanimous.”
“Unbelievable…”
“In addition, we have a warrant for your arrest.”
Mavika’s words struck Mirose like a bolt of lightning. An arrest warrant? For me? she thought.
“For what?”
“For conspiring with Governor-General Kormadino and ordering Gwen Mohsa to assassinate the goddesses. We have already collected all the evidence we need from Governor-General Kormadino’s home.”
There was no way she had found anything—that was what Mirose wanted to scream, but she knew how foolish and pointless it would be. Had that man left evidence behind? It seemed all he did was hold Mirose back, sabotaging her in any way he could. In the end, he was nothing but a painfully average boy yearning to be a hero who took a childish delight in conspiracies.
“You are under arrest, Lawin Mirose. Do not try to resist.”
When Mavika uttered her full name, Mirose began to yell. Without a second thought, she raised her lightning staff—not at Mavika, but at the one Mavika must have cared about the most: Goddess Seedia. A crackling bolt of lightning shot forth, but Mavika was ready, easily intercepting the attack with her shield. An azure barrier from her seal of protection, Niskeph, shimmered around them.
This is absurd, thought Mirose.
It felt like being in a scene from a play—and she was trapped onstage. Mavika’s soldiers surged forward, seizing her with unrelenting force and quickly driving her to her knees. Mirose’s guards, as ineffective as ever, were shot down with bolts of lightning before they could even get close.
Where did I mess up? Did I pick the wrong people to work with? Did I make bad choices? Or does it go back even further than that?
Mirose’s thoughts drifted to her days as a warrior priest. Back then, Mavika always shined brighter, a celestial being far outside Mirose’s orbit of mediocrity. The only thing Mirose had over her was popularity. Mavika had a stern, aloof demeanor, and was avoided by both those above and below her.
Mirose had been on track to become a Holy Knight. It seemed like a given, a path she was destined to walk. But then the Goddess of Prophecy, Seedia, chose Mavika as her knight instead, and for a reason that didn’t even make sense to Mirose.
The Goddess of Prophecy had claimed that, by chance, she’d once exchanged a few words with Mavika in the inner garden of the Great Temple of Kivogue. That was it. A brief conversation. A fleeting moment. That was enough for the goddess to place her trust in Mavika.
Mirose didn’t know what they’d said to each other, and frankly, she didn’t care. All she knew was that it wasn’t fair. It had been a random encounter—a twist of fate that shattered Mirose’s world. While it may have been destiny for them, what about those who were left behind? What were they supposed to do?
That was the moment Mirose began to resent Seedia. She saw the worship of the goddesses, these beings with minds and wills of their own, as a mistake. A delusion. And she would destroy it. She would dismantle the entire system, tear down the Temple, and crush the hopes of anyone foolish enough to believe in its teachings.
“It’s truly unfortunate, Mirose. I was hoping this future wouldn’t come to pass,” muttered Mavika as she gazed down at Mirose. “You are going to tell me everything you know in regard to the coexisters.”
With despair, Mirose realized that things would probably turn out exactly as Mavika had just described.