I'm sorry, Alm. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry it had to be you.

Breathing in again was a brutal, agonizing effort, but Celica forced herself to do it. The room was spinning around her faster than she could process, everything just long streaks of dark color, and the feeling made her suck in the freezing air in a series of staggered, sharp bursts. The room was as cold as ice, but so was Celica, and she was completely numbed to it. She sat up, swinging her whirling body around until she felt some semblance of stability, when she felt it. At the back of her throat, the strongest stench of rotten decay that she had ever tasted in her life, like milk thoughtlessly left out in the sun for a week. Her stomach turned and Celica retched, vomiting cold, thick burning fluid over herself. It was red.

Blood. My blood.

Celica realized the pale flesh, covered in her red-brown stomach contents, was hers, that she was naked.

I died. This isn't the afterlife, it can't be, but I died. I failed, I was weak, I made Alm end it because I couldn't…

Celica started shaking, choking on sobs, her eyes too dry for tears. She felt a presence next to her, and then a great, thick red cloak closed itself around her, and a warm body embraced her, the man pulling her close, cradling her head against his hard chest. Alm…

"Be calmed, child."

Jedah.

Celica tried to say something, but she couldn't control her tongue, or anything, her mouth and throat all so dry. "Do not strain yourself, Anthiese. Your body has suffered a great deal. You must rest."

Rest did sound quite good to Celica.

Jedah lifted her up, and carried her out of the dark chamber, through a hall and into another room, lit to a dark orange by a roaring hearth, and he laid her down on a bed, throwing covers and furs on top of her. Celica began to warm a little, and her vision cleared, from long streaks of color to blotchy shapes. She recognized a pitcher on what looked like a bedside table, and reached for it. "Of course," Jedah said, snatching it up a second before Celica would've knocked it over, pouring into a cup and offering it to her. It was only a bit, less than half full, but she couldn't complain, and swallowed it all in half a second, then erupted into a coughing fit, a thick sludge colored dark by dust coming back up. Jedah gave her more water, and it stayed down that time.

"I know you would want more, but we must be mindful not to upset your constitution in this critical time."

"Wh… wha-?" Celica mumbled.

"You have been dead for over a year. After killing you, Alm left your body and slayed Duma. The gods are both now dead," Jedah said, looking down and rubbing at his temple with his right hand. "Emperor Albein has ruled with brutality ever since his coronation. He descended upon the Duma faithful with fire and sword, and provoked a war with the Arthegnii peoples of the Deadlands. He has killed tens of thousands in his madness."

Celica slumped on her back, her limbs too weak to move. Her dream of Alm was true, then. He had lost his mind. He had always meant well, but that wasn't enough. One foolish boy had doomed the entire world.

He had meant well. But now he was insane, and was dragging all of Valentia down with him. The fool…

"But not all hope is lost. A plan is in motion, that may yet resurrect the gods, and salvage Valentia's destiny. Your part is the most vital one, Antheise. Rest, for now. We can speak more when you wake."

Celica lay back with some light feelings of relief. She shut her eyes, and was gone.


When she woke, the room was just as it had been when Jedah carried her in, but with the windows shuttered, it was impossible for Celica to tell what time it was. Celica jolted up, her mouth as dry as desert sand, and grabbed the water pitcher, swallowing half its contents in one long drink, soaking herself with the water that ran over her lips and down her face. She put it back, knowing she should have been more careful, when she noticed she didn't smell of vomit. She was still naked, but someone had wiped her down.

When Alm killed her, she was surprised most at how little it hurt. The cuts were deep, but all she felt was burning pain in the wounds, like small fires. Celica knew there were worse ways to die; she had seen dozens. With Alm holding her, it didn't truly feel all that bad. Now she felt nothing at all. Celica checked over herself. On the left of her stomach there was a thin scar, healed so well that she only found it because she remembered feeling where the blow struck. On her chest, however, Alm had hacked into her sternum, and the scar there was much more jagged. It was two inches long, and thin, but the skin stood up, and when Celica ran her fingers over it, she could feel where her ribs had healed, with an uneven bump left behind.

But she was alive. Celica could only thank the gods for her life, and complaining of the scars would be profoundly ungrateful.

With effort, Celica swung her clumsy legs over the side of the bed, and leaned forward, pulling one of the blankets around herself. She stood, unsteady, and stumbled around to the foot of the bed and collapsed to her knees on the cold floor. Celica brought herself to a kneel, put her hands together, and leaned forwards, shutting her eyes. She spent several minutes at prayer, thanking Mila and Duma for all their blessings. For the warm sun, for the cool rains, for the fertile soil. For laws, for truth, for the king's justice. For good food and alcohol, for song and dance, for friends and all human pleasures. For life itself. None could exist without the gods. Celica normally prayed four times per day; at rising, before each meal, and before sleep. If she had been dead for a year, she was nearly fifteen hundred prayers behind.

"We will dress you when you are done," said a monotone woman's voice.

Celica squawked and stumbled to her feet, diving gracelessly behind the bed, twisted into a knot with the blanket.

"Do not be alarmed."

Celica was very alarmed. She poked her head over the top of the bed and scanned around. To the right of her bed, sitting in a dark corner, were two witches. One's purple hair was chin-length, the other's long and tied back. Both stared straight at her with their black eyes.

"Are you ready to be dressed?" asked the short-haired one, her voice matching the one that had spoke second.

"How long have you been there?" Celica gasped at them.

"Lord Jedah left us to watch over you approximately nine hours ago. It is now early morning."

Have they just been sitting still, watching, that entire time?

Celica had seen a few of the witches before - all gorgeous women clad in appealing outfits - but all their encounters had ended quickly and violently. Seeing two up close was something new. They stood up and walked to a table, carrying over an armful of stockings, smallclothes, and a dress matching theirs, leaving two other matching sets of clothing on the table. Celica let them dress her as they insisted. No later than that the long-haired one opened the door. "This way." Celica stepped out, and the short-haired one stepped past her, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her along. The pace was quick and abnormal, but Celica made sure she kept up with the witches.

"What are your names?" Celica asked.

"Marla," said the long-haired one.

"Hestia," said the short-haired one, holding Celica's hand.

Sonya…

Celica didn't mention her. Their sister would mean nothing to them.

They pulled her along through the Tower halls. It seemed deserted to Celica until they began to approach the great hall, where dozens, or hundreds, of the remaining Faithful were filing out after their services had ended. Witches stood guard at every entrance but paid them no mind, while the ordinary members gawked and stared at Celica as she passed. Her dress matched that of any woman's, so she knew they recognized her appearance, rather than her clothing marking her as out of place. Marla and Hestia finally brought her to a chamber connected to the great hall, where two blue-faced knights stiffly opened the doors, and she was pulled through.

The room was austere, the only notable adornment a statue of Duma on the desk. Jedah sat in it, facing perpendicularly from the door, slouched forward and staring deeply at the idol. A witch stood at his either side. "Anthiese," he croaked without turning, "sit."

Marla and Hestia stood on either side of the door, and didn't accompany Celica further. She approached Jedah's table, and sat in the stool across from him. It put her several inches below his height, so that he looked down at her.

"He is beautiful, is He not?" Jedah asked.

The statue did have its appeal. The Duma Faithful preferred to depict their god in His draconic form, a proud, crimson dragon superior to all but His sister, while the Mila Faithful more often used Her humanoid form. Celica thought both had their merits.

"He is, truly."

"My voice pains me, for I only just finished addressing the Faithful. I hope you will be understanding if I move straight to the point."

"Yes," Celica said. "What… what happened?"

"So much. I can hardly tell where to begin. I escaped from the Royal Vault with your body after Alm killed you. There was nothing we could do at the time to aid Duma… our numbers were too few to make a stand with Him. So we retreated here, to Duma Tower, with Mila's skull and your body. By the time of our arrival, you were too far gone, and as such I had your body frozen to halt the natural decay, in the hope we may one day return you to life. We scoured the archives and all our sacred texts, and found nothing, tried every ritual, and nothing. And then one day, you rose. It is truly a sign of the Gods' favor: our works are just, and we shall prevail."

"I don't care about has come of myself, Jedah. What happened to Alm and the others? You said… a war. He started a war with the Faithful."

Jedah leaned forward and tented his fingers, covering his mouth. "Emperor Albein..."

"Al-bein…" murmured one of his witches, her face twitching as if in confusion. Jedah looked over his shoulder at her in confusion, then settled his gaze back on Celica. "Officially, he was crowned emperor of Rigel, alongside your brother Conrad, who rules Zofia. The truth is far darker. Conrad is merely his puppet; the Deliverance army is loyal to Alm, and he wields them to crush dissent against his rule. His first act was to exterminate the Duma Faithful in Rigel, melting down thousands of ancient artifacts and sacking temples."

"Why would he?" Celica gasped. "Alm would never…"

"He desired the gold and silver to pay his troops, to maintain his despotic rule. Such is one explanation. I fear that he is mad, and will stop at nothing if it means destroying all trace of us and the Gods. He would destroy any bearer of authority, power, or respect that rivals his own."

Celica's stomach felt like it was turning over. Her dream was true. Alm, gone mad with power. She had never seen it in him before, but now looking back the signs were all there. She remembered defeating Slayde in the Ram graveyard, and how Alm laughed and cheered with a dead knight's blood splattered across his face. Or how he joined the losing side of a civil war out of little other than restless boredom. And now he had murdered the last remaining god and plunged Valentia into darkness. Something in it felt wrong; second to her duty to the Gods, Celica had always wanted nothing but to reunite with Alm, and regain the life that was taken from them. She would be his, and Alm would be hers. She had never thought him to be malicious.

But that was all a lie, or just her idiotic, childish fantasy. Alm had madness hidden in him from the very beginning, and she was too weak and foolish to see. Some part of her felt that it was wrong, but Celica ignored it. For Alm to have been in the right in killing the gods, they would have had to be in the wrong, and that was impossible.

"You told me there was a plan. You have a plan."

"Such is the case, Anthiese. But it is only forming together, and will require a great deal of work before it will be complete. I can promise you that, when it is completed, the Gods will be resurrected, and peace restored to Valentia. I will require one thing of you, however."

"Anything," Celica said.

"Promise me - promise me that whatever comes, whatever happens, whatever is asked of you, you will not back down. You will be the keystone of the plan, and your resolve shall be tested. Our success will hinge on you giving all you have to offer."

Celica thought of Alm. Her dreams, of Rudolf smashing his head open with an axe. When they touched just once, and she felt his soft hair and looked deep in his green eyes, before everything fell apart. The small pain of his sword as it tore through her. His eyes, again, and how safe she felt when she laid her head on his chest, with his arms closed round her. Celica just wanted to sink into him and become one.

Then she thought of the Gods, so much greater than all of the people of Valentia combined, against whom Zofia and Rigel were worth as much as anthills.

"I will do whatever it takes to see the gods restored, Jedah. I pledge, upon all the love of Divine Mila, I will do all I can to bring about Her and Father Duma's resurrection."

He nodded. "I thank you, child. I cannot express how much it means. Much will change in the days to come, and I am afraid my preparations must draw my attention for now. You two!" he shouted to Marla and Hestia - return Anthiese to her chambers, and see to any needs she has. She has full access to the public library, and any of the facilities she desires."

"Can they show me the library?" Celica asked. Jedah nodded, and Hestia came and took Celica's hand, guiding her out of the room and through the halls. No-one stopped them or tried to speak, but Celica caught stares from most of those they passed. She hated receiving so much attention.

The library was thankfully quieter, and the few there were more focused on their books and scrolls than her. Celica wondered if she could find any recognizable readings from her time at the Novis priory. She skipped past the aisles containing writings on ethical philosophy and epistemology, reaching the theology section just after. Celica quickly found that no Mila scriptures were kept for public reading, so she knelt to look through the small section on Duma-Mila Faithful discourses. A tall, bald man, looking aimlessly through some books stacked across the aisle, and he paid Celica no mind as she searched through the shelf.

A Treatise Against the Foul Faithful of Mila was the first book, which she pushed back into the shelf. Next was The Whore Goddess Mila, then a shorter paper, Towards a New Interfaith Dialogue, which seemed promising until Celica saw the subtitle: The Destruction of Mila Scriptures as Ethical Duty. Most of the titles in the shelf related in some manner to the annihilation of the Mila Faithful, which was a disappointment. How to Debate the Mila Faithful and Destroy Them: 11 Stratagems for Winning the Debate was the final piece on the shelf, and seemed the most childish. Celica sighed at the poor selection, unsure what else was worth reading.

"Looking for something to read, Your Highness?" asked the man, his gruff voice somehow familiar. Celica stood and turned around, looking him in the eye and recognizing him in a second.

"My name is Nymec. How are you, Princess Anthiese?"

"Well, thank you. And yourself?" Grandpapa, she didn't add, for Hestia and Marla stood elbow-to-elbow at the end of the aisle.

"Quite fine! You seem to be lacking in reading material. Might I recommend a book?"

It was so odd for Celica to see Mycen act, but he took to it well. She tried to mask her shock at seeing him. "Yes, I wouldn't mind."

Mycen put an arm around her, and Celica tried not to recoil - she hated when men touched her. He walked them around the corner and towards the history section, a few aisles down, and in the second they were out of sight of Marla and Hestia he pressed a small rolled-up note into her hands, while going off on a tangent about the rule of Emperor Rigel I. They hooked into the aisle, and he scanned for a book on said emperor, pulled it off the shelf, and handed it to her, saying she just had to give the diagrams of his building projects a look.

"A rather peculiar fact about this very building is the accurate plans were preserved to this day, copied in this book. Truly fascinating, truly fascinating stuff. Now, enjoy your readings, Princess Anthiese!"

Mycen trotted off. Even his gait was different; the Mycen she knew strode about with purpose, not in a half-shuffle. Celica pocketed his note to read when she had the opportunity, but felt more confused than ever at seeing not just Mycen's demeanour, but his presence at all. She hadn't thought of him as such a capable actor. What could he be doing, in the last stronghold of the Duma Faithful? Had Alm thrown him out? She knew Mycen wouldn't stand for any of his crimes. But then why come to Duma Tower? She had always been bothered by Mycen's irreligiosity, so she could count out him finding faith in his old-er age. So he was there either to search for her, or to sabotage the Faithful. Celica needed to read his note. The problem was doing it alone.

She turned around, coming to face Marla and Hestia blocking the aisle, staring straight at her. "Can I sign this out?"

Hestia snatched the book from her, while Marla grabbed Celica's hand, and they marched her off to the registration desk. A substantial line had formed - fifteen or so Faithful - and after half a minute's wait it was clear the line was moving at a snail's pace. Hestia shoved her way through, wielding sharp elbows and the implied threat of incineration to plow their way to the front of the line, where she shoved aside a bookish man and swept his pile of books off the librarian's desk, slamming The Grand Projects of Emperor Rigel I onto the table. The librarian quickly scrawled something in her book, which looked more like quick scribbles than an entry of who was taking out what book and when, before stuttering they were free to go.

Celica reached a hand down to the man Hestia knocked over at the front of the line. "I am extremely sorry, sir-"

He slapped her hand away and stood on his own, grumbling. "Fucking witches have all been acting off this last year. Just go." Celica went red and nodded sheepishly, then Hestia tugged on her hand and pulled her along again.


When they returned to her room, Celica walked over to the windowside desk that Marla and Hestia had been sitting by when she woke up. She struggled with the window shutters for a moment before forcing the rusted hinges open, revealing a sight of the Deadlands mire as far as she could see. It was mid afternoon but very dark, from the combined effects of the winter and the purple swamps, which seemed to swallow the sun's light. Celica wondered how the Arthegnii barbarians could bear to live in them. The blue men were a steady source of recruits for the Faithful, and Celica saw dozens of their number in the Tower. The Church was likely an escape for the devout, who could climb beyond constant tribal warfare to something greater than themselves. The Arthegnii had a reputation for killing all travelers who entered their lands. It struck Celica as odd that her party wasn't attacked by them even once.

After the moment's thought, Celica sat down with the book, to read until her evening prayers. Hestia and Marla were standing in the middle of the room, facing her.

"The High Faithful, Lord Jedah, has provided us to you as personal protectors. We can also acquire literature or clothing, give sexual favors, prepare meals, or provide other services as needed. Do you have any needs?" asked Marla.

"I… ah... no, no, I am well," Celica stammered, feeling herself going red. Was that how the Duma Faithful used the witches? It… it wasn't her place to question the practices.

"Very well." Marla lay down in the bed and went still. Celica wasn't sure if she slept, or just conserved energy, but Marla didn't move or make noises. Hestia stood at the door.

Celica set her book up to block Hestia's sight of her hands, and reached for the pocket she had hidden Mycen's note in. It was empty. Panic gripped her for and she scanned the room trying to find if she had dropped it there, or perhaps in the library, when she saw it. In the center of the room, by the foot of the bed, a small rolled-up scrap of paper. Hestia saw her alarm and traced her gaze to the note, then walked over and picked it up. Celica felt a cold sweat starting, her hands shaking, and she thought of how she could kill both the witches at once. Hestia unrolled the note and looked through it, and Celica wondered - Ragnarok, a fireball, or lightning strike would kill all three of them, Excalibur would make too much noise, and so Seraphim it was. She recalled the syllables, and targeted Hestia, who was done reading, but was making an odd shaking with her head, blinking rapidly as if dazed. Hestia walked over to her and placed the note on the desk.

"This is yours. Do not tell Marla."

Hestia returned to her spot at the door, and Celica didn't move for a few seconds, her panic subsiding. She slid the note over and flipped it open.

Jedah is a madman. Do not trust him. Do not believe his lies. His plan is monstrous. I have secured an escape. Kill your witches and meet me at the stables during the Faithful evening prayers any night you are able. It is not too late to stop him.

Celica's heart sank, and she wanted to scream, or pull her hair, or hit her head against a wall. She couldn't believe it. It was impossible. She loved Mycen with all her heart, and wouldn't let harm come to him, but neither could she go along with his plans.

"I'm not going, Hestia," Celica said. Hestia didn't respond.

Celica walked to the fireplace and tossed the note in. Within a few seconds it was burning, then gone.


Notes:

A bit shorter, but the chapter introduces the other plot threat and bridges us onward from the battle of Relastan, so it's acceptable. Plus you guys aren't having to wait months for updates, so it's not as bad.

Celica_IRL: