May the blessings of the goddess follow you, always.

If there was one thing that was drilled into Ashton's head after several weeks of study, it was that. Even as the priestess in front of him bleated at him with scripture and dogma, he couldn't help but hold on to that sentence.

The humorless woman in front of him crossed her arms as she placed the leather-bound book in front of him. "You appear to be in a daydreaming mood, Easterling. Would you mind telling me what you're thinking about?"

Ashton looked up, his hands clasped together in front of him. "May the blessings of the goddess follow you, always. That's what I'm thinking about, Griselda."

The older, silver-haired woman looked down at Ashton from the bridge of her nose. He tried to look anywhere else but her; the open windows allowed a generous amount of fresh air into the room, and the desk he was at wasn't incredibly creaky. It was good to look at the silver linings of things, he reminded himself.

"Hmph. It is good you latched onto something, at least," Griselda stated.

"I'd have to eventually, with your teaching." Ashton stretched, hearing the satisfying crackling of his spine as he did so. He let out a breath as he continued. "You are a taskmaster."

"Which is why you were sent here by Saint Seiros herself!" Griselda sniffed, turning away to look out the window. Ashton could just see Enbarr, off in the distance from it. "This occupation if a privilege that I will not see squandered, and you will know your place in it. Much as I pound your head with doctrine, know that it is by the Goddess' will, and the will of Her divine prophet, that I do this. Perhaps I am the only one who can push this book into your thick skull."

"Then what a lucky man I am," Ashton chuckled, rapping his knuckles against the desk. "And you even opened your doors to me, an… Easterling."

"One day, all will know the love and glory of the Goddess," Griselda stated, walking back to Ashton. "And if I need to start with you, so be it. You have memorized one line in your weeks of being here, and whether it takes ten more weeks for you to truly learn it, or ten more years, I will serve it."

"Griselda," Ashton said, holding up a finger to stop here before continuing. "You are a lovely human being."

Griselda snorted.

"It's not working."

"You have tried this exercise a dozen times, perhaps more," Griselda said, tapping her can against the ground twice. "The only reason I can see as to why would be your lack of Faith."

In the small morning hours, just outside the chapel of the priory, Ashton knelt before the door, a small gash on his palm. He had held his concentration, done everything Griselda had told him to do, and yet nothing happened. The cut still bled somewhat, but he doubted his magic was stemming the flow.

"Lack of faith," Ashton repeated, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were slick.

"Yes, a lack of Faith, boy!" the older woman said exasperatedly. "You do not truly believe in the tenants of the church, do you? You have simply been going through the motions this past years. You do not share our Faith, and so you cannot heal a small cut."

"How ironic," Ashton muttered.

"I fail to see the irony."

Ashton looked up at the woman, a deep-set frown on his face.

"I'm faithless, apparently, and you're still trying to help me," Ashton finally replied, his fist shaking as he tried his best not to slam it into the ground in anger.

"Of course I am still trying to help you," Griselfa replied, standing above him and looking down at him from the bridge of her nose. "You are here because Saint Seiros sees something in you, and until whatever it is reveals itself, or it's revealed that you have nothing special about you whatsoever, I will do her will and have you learn about the Goddess' teachings."

"Then how?" Ashton asked, standing up. "How am I going to do this? I've been here for over a year now and I barely feel different from when I first arrived. I haven't heard anything from the Saints; they said they'd help me!"

"Faith comes from within. I cannot give it to you," Griselda stated, placing both hands on the top of her cane. "I have given you the scriptures. I have given you my interpretation of them. But I cannot have you understand them unless you want to."

Ashton blinked before looking down, the cut on his hand stinging as he clenched his fists.

"Take the rest of the day to think," Griselda ordered, patting Ashton on the shoulder. "I have an inkling that you are on the verge of something, and it is something you must realize alone."

Ashton sighed as Griselda excused herself, kicking at the dirt as he was left with his own thoughts.

All I can think about is how much I just want to go home.

Ashton had to admit, he had grown accustomed to his new peaceful surroundings. The priory was idyllic, rustic in a way he had never been able to experience. The grasslands stretched as far to the north as he could see, and just to the south, Enbarr loomed over them.

He only wished that he could enjoy it under better circumstances.

Ashton still had not received word from the Saints on whether they had found anything that could give him even a hint on how to get home. His only hope was that they had not forgotten his existence. If they did, he'd be stuck there forever.

Is that really a bad thing?

It was a peaceful day. Ashton felt whatever stress he had leave his body with each breath of fresh air he took. He was sitting along one of the small walls that lined the priory, during one of the few times he was allowed to take time to relax in-between his 'studies'. Whatever new horror Griselda came up with, he was confident he would be able to take it so long as he had at least another couple minutes to himself.

"Excuse me? Are you Ashton?" a voice from the road said, melodic and light.

It reminded him of someone he knew, and Ashton opened his eyes and rose to his feet with a soft grunt. He saw a woman approach from the direction of Enbarr, either that or she only saw him from that angle.

"That's me," Ashton replied, patting himself down to get some errant dirt off his clothes.

"Ah, good!" the woman said, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I am glad I did not have to speak to Griselda to find where you were. Not that I am one for gossip, but she has not aged gracefully."

Ashton took a moment to look at the woman. She had dark brown hair that reached to the small of her back, with eyes of the same color. She wore a bright white robe, not too dissimilar to the one he saw Cethleann wearing when they found her. Based on that alone, Ashton could guess who he was talking to.

"I've barely slept a wink since I got here," Ashton said, kicking at the dirt below him. "And it's all because of her midnight sessions. What am I going to learn when I'm half-dead?"

"Not much, I imagine!" the woman giggled. "Ah, but I apologize. I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?"

Ashton nodded. The woman did a curtsy in response, and Ashton knew without a doubt who it was with that.

"My name is Hera," the woman said, standing upright after a few moments. "And the woman you saved in Fhirdiad is my daughter, Cethleann."

"I could tell you two were related based on that alone," Ashton said, gesturing to her. "You two wear the same clothes."

"Hmm?" she hummed, looking down. "Ah, perhaps we do! I had not thought of that."

Ashton let out a chuckle involuntarily before quickly wiping his smile away. "That was a few weeks ago. Besides, I only helped, really. Roland von Aegir is the one who did most of the work."

"You mean that boy I spoke to just before coming here?" Hera asked, crossing her arms. "The one who said something similar? Who said that you were the one to do most of the work?"

Ashton's brow furrowed as he turned away. "Where does he get off saying stuff like that? Look, all I did was keep him on track. He barely ran into anyone on the way to get her, and she's the one who got us a way out. All I did was escort."

"Indeed? How curious," Hera said, tapping her chin. "Still, you have my thanks. And do not worry, I will make sure my husband does not forget you here. Not that I think he would; Cethleann is precious to both of us, after all."

Ashton snorted. "I can tell she's your daughter just by looking at you. You both have that smile, and the same body language. Ah." Ashton looked back to the priory, feeling as if he had heard his name. "They'll want me back now, so I'm gonna have to cut this short. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Hera."

"Please, just call me Hera. Hearing you say that makes me feel older than I already am," she giggled.

Ashton shrugged and went back to the priory, shuffling the memory of the encounter from earlier away.

"I don't get it, Roland," Ashton grumbled, sitting by the fireplace he had made. It was one of the many skills he had been taught while at the priory. It's orange and yellow light made the shadows along the room dance around them, like a ghostly party was happening just beyond their perception.

"You do not get what?" Roland asked, leaning forward in his chair as he held his hands together. "I understand you are in a bad situation still. I know the Saints have not contacted you yet, but life here is not so horrid that you must complain to me on the one day we are able to speak?"

"It's not about my life here," Ashton replied, crossing his arms and looking up to the ceiling as he rocked in his chair.

"Then what, pray tell, is it?"

Ashton pursed his lips as he looked back down, focusing on the flames. "I don't know. That's what has me so antsy so late into the night. None of this makes sense. There's something at just the back of my mind, threatening to spill out, and I don't or can't understand what it is."

"Perhaps you worry for those you left behind," Roland suggested, "you have been away for almost a year."

Ashton's eyes widened. "A year? Has it almost been a year already?"

Roland nodded. "Indeed. Almost a year. I thought it weird when I looked at it myself, but it is now Imperial Year 33. The thirty-third year after our nation's founding, and almost sixty since Seiros herself enlightened us with the Goddess' love."

"Sixty? She looked so young," Ashton grumbled.

"She has been blessed with a longer life, so she tells us," Roland explained before his brows furrowed. "But back to the point, I cannot aid you if I do not know what troubles you. Perhaps it is the priests and priestesses here? Have they been treating you too harshly?"

"I haven't had anything bad happen with them since I finally memorized those passages they wanted me to," Ashton replied, holding his forehead in his palm. "I just… If I'm here, it needs to be for a purpose, right? I didn't kill a man because I was so desperate to survive, I killed him with a purpose: to save Cethleann, right?"

"To save Cethleann. As was no doubt the will of the Goddess at work," Roland said, tapping his temple.

"The will of the Goddess, huh?" Ashton repeated, slumping over. "Saint Seiros said something similar. And I read a passage when I first got here saying that the Goddes watches over us, always."

"The words of Saint Seiros are wise, Ashton. It is good that you listened to them," Roland said, gesturing to him. "Perhaps it truly is the will of the Goddess that you are here, and if so, then the Saints will no doubt find out in time as well. Saint Seiros is the Goddess' messenger on Fódlan, a prophet to guide us during these trying times."

"She seemed pretty unsure of herself when she said it," Ashton noted.

Roland shrugged. "Even the Goddess' messenger is only human. Perhaps she just has not heard of what your role is in all of this yet. The war is still young."

Ashton saw a way to get out of the current conversation, and took it. He looked to Roland.

"How is the war going, by the way?" Ashton asked.

Roland looked to him, snapped out of his religious reverie. "I suppose it isn't impossible that you haven't heard much; you live on a priory on a part of the road people seldom travel. But even then, I would have expected you to hear some things."

"Not very often, no. I hear the priests talking about casualties on the front lines, but not much else," Ashton admitted, feeling his shoulder slump again.

Roland nodded. "There have been many casualties, yes. The main lines are to the west of the Oghma Mountains, near the Brioniac Plateau, and to the east, it is the Airmid River. And finally, that mountain pass we went through to reach Enbarr, that is where the battles have been their fiercest. None of the Saints have made an appearance on the battlefield just yet, but that is likely to change soon. The Elites have made numerous appearances."

Ashton felt his spine shiver at the mention of the Elites. He remembered the sickening blade of Maurice as it pulsed with each person it bisected. To have ten more like him, somewhere out there – it was a wonder that the Adrestian Empire still had an army at all, dealing with them. It was like they were gods among men.

"What are you going to do?" Ashton asked quietly, looking away. "Are you planning on charging headlong into one of them again?"

Roland looked down, his eyes glazing over. "I am supposed to be as strong as them. I have a Major Crest, passed down from Saint Cichol himself, a gift from the Goddess. And yet, all I can do is flounder."

"You're my age, right Roland?" Ashton asked, tapping the armrest of his chair.

"I suppose I am. What does that have to do with anything?" Roland replied, brow raised.

Ashton clapped his hands together. "Well, for one, you're still young, and the Elites and Saints probably have dozens of years of experience over you. You said that people who receive Crests live longer, right?"

Roland nodded. "My father is nearly seventy years old, and Emperor Wilhelm is around that same age, but you would not be able to tell just by looking at them, would you?"

"I don't think I would, no," Ashton said, scratching his scalp. "That Wilhelm guy barely looked a day over thirty, actually. Anyway, my point still stands. They've got experience that you don't. And those weapons, too."

"Abominations, if the Saints are to be believed. Which I do," Roland said, "they have not led us astray yet."

"They're probably better than whatever the hell the Elites and Nemesis want to do," Ashton agreed, tapping his foot.

"Undoubtedly," Roland said, leaning back.

After that, they settled into a comfortable silence. Ashton relished those moments where he didn't need to think about religious texts or try and fail to use Faith magic. He wasn't even certain if he'd ever be able to cast anything, which meant that he'd be pretty useless if anything were to happen near Enbarr.

In that moment, however, it didn't matter. He would just keep taking it one day at a time, until something happened. Whether it'd be his death, or a way home, he didn't particularly care anymore.

Ashton had been sent to retrieve supplies from Enbarr.

It was a simple mission – he actually hesitated to even call it that. He had been given a few more responsibilities since he had first arrived, but this was the first time he had been sent fetch things. He had been given a small amount of gold, a cart, and a mule. Even with barely knowing how to get it to move, he was able to get to Enbarr relatively unscathed.

Unfortunately, when he got to Enbarr itself, he was left to his own devices trying to navigate the great city. Ashton enjoyed the sights, but the people he could do without. By the time he had received everything he had been asked, the sun was already below the horizon, with only an orange haze over the city to give any light at all. Luckily, he negotiated to stay within a nearby chapel until the morning.

Ashton was recognized as a member of the Church of Seiros, and he was starting to like the sound of that.

He was given a bed to sleep on, more like a futon, and not much else. He felt like a ghost, haunting a medieval church. He had the strange urge to cut some eyeholes into the sheet he had been given, drape the blanket over himself and try to scare people who tried to enter in the morning. It was a casual thought, but when he increasingly liked the sound of as he stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

It had been like that ever since he'd had that dream. That dream of an angry monster hiding in dark-light, and the person, the Goddess who saved him, it was strange. Ashton could feel a strange warmth in his chest.

Maybe the Goddess really exists after all. Maybe it all wasn't in vain.

Ashton was about to get up to kneel in front of the altar and pray again when he heard the doors into the church open. It was such a quiet sound; he could barely hear it, but the strange creaking and slight clinking of metal was unmistakable.

Furrowing his brows, Ashton pulled himself up and walked around the corner as quietly as he could, putting on his robe as he did so. Within a few moments, he could see the entirety of the main church hall. Stained glass window, unlit but beautiful all the same, hung over the doors, and he could see the altar just beside him. Everything appeared in order, with the pews all in place and the door still closed. He wondered if he had just been imagining things.

Just before he turned back around, though, he saw a hooded figure at the front pew. Their entire body was covered in a white hooded robe, not unlike his own, but there was something different about the person in front of him. She was hunched over in the pew, not even looking at the altar of the Goddess in front of her, no clasped hands, nothing. He listened closely, and swore he heard soft sobs.

It was clear she wasn't an ordinary priestess. Even one that visited as late as she did wouldn't come to a church to cry.

Ashton dredged up his courage and moved forward.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He said, waving his hand as he walked toward her, trying not to spook her.

Ashton failed terribly at that. The woman stood up suddenly, and Ashton could see light green eyes underneath her hood, but not much else before she turned away.

"Ah, sorry," Ashton said sheepishly, scratching his scalp as he stopped. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just, uh, I heard the door open, you know? And since I'm staying here for the night, keeping this place safe is my responsibility. Not that I think you'll be-"

"What are you doing here?" the woman asked accusingly, glaring at him. He could see her arms shaking underneath her robes, and he could imagine her fists clenched.

"Uh, I just said. I'm here to make sure this place is safe while I'm staying. All the other priests went home," Ashton replied.

The woman turned away, deliberately hiding her face. "A likely story. What are you even doing here? Answer my question."

Ashton sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "I came into Enbarr to get some supplies for a priory I live at. Took too long, so I asked if I could stay the night here. The people of this church just so happened to allow it. Does that answer your question?"

"You could have rented a room at an inn," the woman said, turning her head just enough for Ashton to see one green eye peeking at him. "You could have gone anywhere else but here."

"I spent all the gold on the supplies," Ashton said, crossing his arms.

The woman stood still for a moment, staring Ashton down, before letting out a sigh.

"Fine, then," she said, pulling her cloak closer to her. "I was just finishing anyway."

"What were you doing?" Ashton asked, stepping forward.

The cloaked woman stopped and turned around fully. "Excuse me?"

"I gave you an answer," Ashton said, tapping a finger against his crossed forearm. "Now I want one too. What were you doing here? Why were you crying?"

"The nerve! I was not crying!" the woman denied, and Ashton could see her frown grow just a bit bigger. Any farther and she'd start showing teeth.

"I heard sobbing," Ashton said, tilting his head forward. "Now, I am not a smart man, but you are the only one here besides you, and I do not think I have gone mad enough to start hearing things."

Ashton's could see the woman's fists balling beneath her cloak again.

"Look, I don't want any trouble, alright? We can talk about it, if you want. Or you could walk out, and we'll never see each other again," Ashton explained, taking a deep breath.

"I very much like the sound of the latter," the woman replied.

"Then leave," Ashton said, gesturing to the door. "It's right there. I'm just- look, I know I am not the best at this kind of thing. Usually, priests lend their ear to people, right?"

"You are failing in that task, to put it mildly," the woman replied, still standing there and staring at him.

Ashton sighed, looking down. "Yeah, that makes sense. I'm barely a priest, really. I only got to this point because of- well, for a lot of reasons outside of my control. Hey, listen, seriously, do you want to talk? I feel like we could talk. About something. Anything. I've had a lot on my mind recently and I can tell you do, too. And I know it always helps to have someone to talk to, even if they're a complete stranger. As long as they're willing to listen, at least."

The woman turned around, as if to leave, and Ashton nodded his head and began to turn around himself. Before he did fully, though, he saw her shudder, and heard a sigh flow through the cold night air.

"Very well," the woman said, turning around and sitting the pew she had been at just a few minutes before. "I see no issue with it. I do not have anything that needs to be done in the immediate future. Let us… talk."

"…and that's how I got here," Ashton finished, running a hand over his face, feeling sweat bead up on his forehead. "Not much more than that, really. Was at my cousins' funeral, was walking out of the entrance hall, and bam! Just like that. No flash of light, no big portal, nothing. Instantaneous."

The woman beside him had long stopped cloistering herself inside of her cloak, and Ashton could make out a lot of her features. Her skin was pale, her features sharp, and he could see greenish-blonde hair underneath the hood. He had an idea on who, exactly, he was talking to, in which case what he was saying would come as no surprise to her. Still, it helped to say it all the same. He could feel a weight in his stomach slowly lifting as he talked.

"I am sorry," the woman finally said. "That… must have been hard on you."

Ashton's bottom lip trembled as he wiped at his eyes. "Yeah, a little bit. I'm hoping it all wasn't in vain. I hope I'm here for a reason."

"I am sure you are," she said. "The Goddess works in mysterious ways, even if she i-is no longer with us."

"Heh. You know, they used to say the same thing about a God back home. I hope my dad's okay without me. I should've… I should've been better."

"Your father? Only? Not your mother?" the woman asked.

Ashton's lips thinned. "My mom's gone. Died a year after I was born. They never told me how, but it must've been something bad. Dad always got really sad when I asked him about her."

"Oh, I did not know," the woman whispered, looking away.

"You couldn't have known," Ashton said, rubbing his eyes again. "Just, talking about it hurts, even if I never really met her. I've enjoyed this, though."

The woman held onto her hood for a moment before speaking again. "My mother is gone, too."

"Before you remembered, too?" Ashton asked, leaning back and letting out a breath.

"Not exactly. It was not… it was not a peaceful death. She did not have to die. It was senseless, merciless. If I…" she trailed off.

"That's why you were crying in here, wasn't it? Because of her." Ashton said, looking at the woman.

She nodded. "Y-yes."

Ashton looked up to the ceiling, thinking of what to say. After a few moments, he finally found something.

"I can't say anything that will make it hurt less," he began, playing with his fingers in his lap. "My mother's death wasn't violent, at least I don't think it was. But, I know about her from what little my dad told me of her. She was from a place called Greece, though I'd never been there myself. An immigrant, apparently. Dad always told me that I'd learn more about her later. Always later. Later never came."

"It never came for me, either," the woman said, her voice trembling as Ashton could see her grasping the fabric of her cloak in a death grip. "I was old enough to know her. To grow under her. She was like a sun that never set. It has been many years, but sometimes I still find it hard to believe that she is no longer among us. It had not been so long ago that she graced the world and everyone around her with her presence."

"She sounds like a wonderful person, too," Ashton whispered.

The woman looked down.

"Crying alone in a church doesn't seem like the best way to go about mourning her, though," Ashton said, letting out a breath. "I have a feeling dawn's about to break, so maybe it'd be a good idea to call it quits here. If you need someone to talk to, though, head to the priory just outside the city. You probably know the one. I'll need to start getting the old mule ready to go in the morning, so, uh, it was nice talking to you."

"And you as well, As-" the woman shook her head. "I never asked you for your name."

"Ashton," he replied, standing up. "Ashton Wright, Priest of Seiros. Nice to meet you, strange, hooded lady."

When Ashton made his way back to the priory, he was greeted by a scene that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a movie. The priests of the priory stood on one side, with Griselda leading them as always. On the other side stood a band of soldiers, not brandishing their weapons, thankfully, but clearly anxious all the same. With the morning sun high in the sky, raining sunshine on all of them, their black plate mail must've been hotter than hell itself.

At the front of the soldier formation, Ashton saw a familiar face. He stopped just in front of them all, holding his mule's lead and looking like a fool.

"Uh, Ella," Ashton began, gesturing to them all. "Is there a reason it looks like you're arresting my colleagues?"

"Ah, there he is!" Ella exclaimed, moving forward until she was just in front of Ashton.

"Yeah, here I am," Ashton agreed cautiously, brows furrowed.

Ella patted his shoulder. "It's good to see you! I almost thought you were avoiding me, what with how hard it's been to find you after you sequestered yourself away with these men and women of the cloth."

"You've always known where I am. Roland visited all the time, even though he wasn't under any obligation to," Ashton muttered.

"Ha! Isn't that the truth? To be honest with you, Ash, I-"

"Please just call me Ashton, Ella," Ashton interrupted, crossing his arms as he looked at the priests and soldiers awkwardly standing about behind her. "I don't like that nickname."

Ella frowned. "Just trying to be friendly. I bring grim news that could use the levity."

"For what it's worth, I consider you a friend," Ashton said, "but I want to know what's going on. You still haven't answered my question."

Ella rubbed her wrists as she spoke. "I'm sorry to say that many of our healers are the targets of Nemesis' forces. They're slaughtered down to the last man or woman, and then our forces are pulled back once we can't sustain our numbers. They are pushing on our borders hard, and it is only a matter of time before they march on Enbarr. Even with all of our preparations, we are fighting a losing battle."

Ashton's brows were still furrowed before his eyes widened. "You need healers on the front."

"I do. We all do," Ella answered, nodding gravely. "I'm afraid you are all part of the Adrestian Empire's army, now."

Ashton felt his stomach plummet into his pelvis.

It was a world of stark colors and deep pits into empty dark-space, and Ashton at once knew he was dreaming.

How could he not be? He may have been transported to another world against his will, his cousins lost to the vast expanse just as he was, but in that moment he knew what he was looking at was pure fantasy. There was no ground. There was no sky. It was all riven, destroyed and rebuilt over and over again until nothing but color remained.

Ashton felt cold and warm at the same time. He felt alive, yet more dead than he could ever imagine. His eyes were constantly assaulted by images and things he could not understand. It was like he was looking into a disco or a rave, except somehow made worse.

He could see lives he had not led, places he had never been, people he had never met – it was like he was watching a movie, except he could feel everything every character did.

And, finally, after so much time looking at a world gone mad, he saw what had been behind it all. A thing of monstrous size, or perhaps he was just tiny? It stared at him with eyes that could see through eternity, eyes that glared at him, demanded an explanation from him, but he had nothing to give. There was nothing for him to say. It raged at that, raged and broke the world more than it already was, like an infant that had been left alone with nothing.

In the vast, colorful space, he finally screamed.

Ashton was saved by something. A hand had pulled through the dark-light and brought him back. And when he turned around, he saw a being that far-outstripped anything he had ever seen. Even the monster he had just encountered paled in comparison to its beauty.

She was taller than him, taller than any person he had ever seen. Her robes flowed from beyond time itself, and her eyes saw past him and into oblivion and beyond. She did not speak, but she did smile, and as Ashton could feel himself slipping away, that smile stayed in his mind.

He finally awoke-

Ashton's eyes opened slowly. He could hear crickets outside, and when he pulled himself up, he could see it was the middle of the night; outside, all he could see was a world awash in ethereal, pale blue light. The moon above, not his own but familiar all the same, shined above. He counted his blessings that he was given a room with a window, even if he wouldn't be able to enjoy it for much longer. At least they had been given a few days before they set out to join the front.

Was that the Goddess?

Ashton rubbed at his eyes, groaning as he moved to get up, only to stop himself as an idea struck him.

What if he was there because of the Goddess? What if he had been sent there for some divine purpose, as both Seiros and Griselda thought? Were they right? Had they always been right?

Ashton didn't have the answers to those questions, but he positioned himself on the bed accordingly. He got on his knees and clasped his hands together. He wasn't perfect; every so often, he would mix-up Goddess with God, or he would recite a prayer from one of the few times his father and him had gone to church. Nonetheless, he kept going.

Please, Goddess. Whoever you are, whatever your name is. I need help. I don't know what to do…

Give me the strength to get through this.

This chapter was rearranged at the last minute, so let me know if there's some weird details or phrasings that I left in by accident in the reviews. Or PM me about them, if you mind slandering my good name lmao.

Anyway, that's a wrap. A small timeskip that'll probably be the first of many. This arc takes place well over a decade, and I can't give the same detail I did to Awakening's two-year timeskip in Aberration. At least, not if I want this fic to be finished within the next ten years. I think we'll still have plenty of time to get to know these handy OCs of mine before they're hauled off to the ether, never to be seen again.

I still like them, though.

Anyway, thanks to Stormtide_Leviathan for beta'ing for me, as always!

Here's a link to our Discord server: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

See you guys guys next week, hopefully!