Lilieth stood in the middle of Zusa square, in front of the magnificent statue of Eulalie at its center. The Goddess had no mouth but three sets of eyes, all serenely closed, and two sets of ears. In her arms, she held a book, writing something upon its many pages. “Perpetuation” was Her title, for She was perpetuation itself—the Goddess of eternity and stories.

  All nations worshipped the Greater Twelve, to some extent, but Krysanth primarily focused its worship towards Hestareia the Valor, Goddess of heroes. Many cities had statues erected of Her, but of the Krysanthian cities Lilieth had visited, only Zusa had a statue of Eulalie. In fact, Zusa had a statue of each of the Twelve Greater Gods spread throughout the city.

  Lilieth clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and prayed. She always did so when she came across any depiction of her Lady.

  “Eulalie the Perpetuation, huh?” Lilieth heard Talgerda’s voice, finding the half-elf already standing next to her when she turned to look. She hadn’t heard her approach at all, perhaps because she was focused on her prayer. “Do you think She actually looked like that?”

  Lilieth shrugged. “I doubt the sculptors knew what She looked like. I doubt anyone knows what She looks like.”

  “Makes sense. The God I worship is Ezenar, by the way. Care to guess how He’s usually sculpted where I’m from?”

  Trying to search her memories, Lilieth tilted her head. “In Krysanth, He’s usually depicted as a shirtless lanky man without a face. To the west, He’s depicted without a head entirely.”

  “Well, in my homeland of Eirsia, He’s not depicted at all,” Talgerda said. “We elves are forbidden from depicting Him in any form.”

  “Is that right?” Lilieth said, genuinely curious.

  “Yep. He’s the Inevitability—The Great Reminder for us long-lived races that time will always catch up. Depicting Him in any form is a way to immortalize Him in the physical world, which goes against what He stands for.”

  Ezenar the Inevitability. God of time and fate. It was well-known that the elves worshipped Ezenar.

  “I would’ve thought you worshipped Mara, to be honest,” Lilieth said.

  “Because I’m a Skymage?” The half-elf shrugged. “It’s true that Mara was the one who Blessed me, not Ezenar. The Gods can be fickle like that.”

  There were twelve Greater Gods, and when one is Blessed, they acquire the magic of the God that Blessed them. Sculpt magic if you were Blessed by Eulalie, Sky magic if you were Blessed by Mara, and so on—that God would then be your patron God from that day onwards.

  And the gods were fickle indeed. It was very much possible to be Blessed by a god you didn’t worship and even to not be Blessed by a god you’ve devoted your entire life praying to. Lilieth was one of the rarer cases—someone who was Blessed by the very God she was devoted to. Cases like Talgerda’s were far more common.

  The Gods didn’t seem to care who you worshipped. Sometimes, They would even Bless someone who didn’t believe in any of the Gods.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Talgerda asked gently. As Lilieth expected, she was here to try and cheer her up.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Talgerda sighed, her eyes glued to the statue, marveling at its craftsmanship. Lilieth’s own eyes, however, were drawn downwards, to Talgerda’s waist, where two swords hung on either side. One was the sword she always used: an ornate longsword that she swung with ease. Its edge was deadly sharp, and its luster was immaculate. Lilieth didn’t know much about swords, but she understood that her longsword was truly a marvel.

  Talgerda’s other sword, however, was much less impressive—an old rusted shortsword that could only be praised for the fact that it hadn’t shattered yet. Its handle was worn, and it clearly hadn’t been maintained in a long while. It was a sword unfit for use in battle and even less useful for display. Lilieth had never even seen Talgerda unsheathe it.

  The shortsword had always intrigued Lilieth. Talgerda was protective of it, never letting anyone else touch it and never letting it leave her side. Something about the sword unnerved Lilieth in a way she couldn’t explain.

  “You’re curious, huh?” Talgerda suddenly spoke having noticed Lilieth’s gaze.

  The young mage, red-faced, turned away hastily. “M-my apologies; I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “It’s fine. I suppose I have been very ... touchy when it comes to this sword.” She gently placed her hand over the weapon’s hilt, caressing it almost lovingly. Her eyes flickered with sadness for but a brief moment. “It belonged to my younger brother way back when.”

  Lilieth straightened her back. Talgerda rarely ever talked about her past. “You have a brother?”

  She nodded. “A twin. Back when I was a kid, I used to go up to the tallest tree I could find at night and gaze up at the moons. There was always something so ... mysterious about them, so beautiful. And my brother—well—he wasn’t a fan of all that. He said it was a waste of time and that the moons were nothing special. He would insult me all the time because I kept ‘staring at the sky like an idiot’.”

  “He, um ... sounds like, uh—”

  “Like a prick?” Talgerda smirked. “Yeah, he was—biggest prick I knew.”

  Lilieth awkwardly laughed. She didn’t have siblings of her own, so she didn’t know what it was like to have a brother. In all honesty, having someone like that as a brother would probably get on Lilieth’s nerves very very quickly.

  Talgerda chuckled fondly. “—And after he’d say all that, he’d climb up and watch the moons with me anyway.”

  The half-elf’s eyes softened, and Lilieth could feel warmth coming from her. Like a cozy blanket on a cold night, Talgerda’s emotions were nothing short of beautiful. Lilieth could almost see the memories she was recounting in her heart: a clear cloudless night, staring up at the gradient sky. A moment spent in silence, more valuable than any words.

  “He sounds like a wonderful brother,” Lilieth said.

  “Well, he was still a prick. Everyone in our village knew it,” the half-elf reminded, though her words carried neither anger nor frustration. Then, her expression shifted to one of melancholy. “I was ... a bit clumsier back then, always making mistakes, always messing up even the simplest things.”

  “Really? You?” Lilieth said with surprise. Talgerda was the most dependable person she knew.

  The half-elf nodded. “And every time I messed up, he’d be the one everyone would blame. And he’d just ... take it—without complaining a single time.”

  “He was trying to protect you.”

  She smiled sadly. “Eventually, the villagers couldn’t deal with him anymore, and they exiled him. I forgot what it was, exactly, that broke the camel’s back, but it probably didn’t matter to them. They just needed an excuse.”

  A somber silence fell on the two of them. “It wasn’t your fault,” Lilieth said.

  Talgerda laughed and started patting Lilieth’s head again, rustling her hair a bit too roughly. “Thanks, kid, but I’ve long since faced my own demons. You don’t need to comfort me.”

  “That’s great, Lady Talgerda, but can you please stop messing with my hair? It takes a while for me to comb it down ...”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Talgerda continued laughing. “Anyways, when I think of a hero, I think of my brother—the person who was always there for me even when I wasn’t enough. Ever since I went out and became an adventurer, I’ve been chasing after that back of his. What I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to feel bad about messing up or not being good enough. I’ll be here to catch you like my brother did me, so just put your trust in me.” She flashed a wide, toothy grin.

  Lilieth smiled back at her. “Thank you, Lady Talgerda.”

  “Oh, enough with that nonsense. Just call me Gerda. I don’t really do well with all the formality. We’ve known each other for a while now, so throw me a bone here.”

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  “Then, Lady Gerda.”

  “... I could do without the ‘Lady’, too, but I guess this works for now.”

  The young mage looked back at the sword. “So, that shortsword is a memento from your brother? Is that why you carry it around everywhere?”

  “Sort of,” she replied, her expression serious. “The whole reason I left my homeland was so I could find him and give him this sword back. I don’t feel comfortable carrying around something this valuable.”

  “Valuable … ?” Lilieth said dubiously. Of course, Talgerda noticed her tone.

  “I know it looks like a sorry excuse for a sword, but it’s a lot more important than I think either of us know. I wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up taking down the demon king one day.”

  “Really ...”

  “Yes, really! That’s why I shouldn’t be the one to carry something this heavy. To this day, I still don’t know why he left it in my care, but if anyone should hold it, it’s him. He’d know what to do, surely.”

  There was an uncertainty in her voice that resonated with Lilieth. It reminded her of her own uncertainty.

  “How can you be sure that he’ll know what to do?”

  “I don’t. I have faith anyway.”

  Lilieth tilted her head. “Even though you can’t be sure?”

  “It’s because I can’t be sure. Faith only exists in doubt, Lili—no, faith is strongest in doubt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Talgerda placed a hand on the young mage’s shoulder. “I’m saying that you should have faith in your own faith; that’s all. Anyway, I’m off to go do some last-minute shopping. See you later! [Bedivere]!”

  Talgerda levitated through the air and began soaring towards the marketplace’s direction. Her high energy was difficult to keep up with at times, but Lilieth liked that about her.

  “Have faith in my own faith ...” Lilieth whispered, still unsure of what it meant. But Talgerda was wiser than she presented herself, so there had to be some meaning there.

  Lilieth simply took it as homework from someone she respected. Though, when she thought about it, she saw Talgerda as an older sister to her. As an only child, having older people looking after you like that was unexpectedly nice. She owed a lot to Talgerda and Verlaine, who both continued to treat her well despite her inadequacies.

  ... Although, her feelings towards Verlaine definitely made it hard to see him as just an older brother. She wasn’t harboring any hopes that the two of them could ever be together, of course. Age gap aside, there was no way someone as unremarkable as her would ever be a match for him. She was completely fine staying an admirer.

  Though, I can be forgiven for having fantasies every now and then, she thought to herself giddily as she walked back to Zusa palace.

  Entering the main gate, Lilieth saw the familiar figure of Yupanai Nomari—massive and missing antlers in view—staring at a nearby painting. The painting depicted one of the twelve moons. It was the second one, Violet Julius—a masterful piece of art painted in fantastical strokes.

  Yupanai was busy inspecting the painting closely. He was always interested in art. As a result, it didn’t seem like he noticed Lilieth enter the hall. Lilieth tried to sneak past ...

  “Hold it, Lasvenn,” he said, not even turning his head to her. With a jolt, Lilieth stopped in her tracks and turned to him, her shoulders stiff.

  There were three Third tiers in the party in that moment:

  Olivier Verlaine, a paragon hero whose presence calmed the masses;

  Sevens, a quiet and enigmatic girl who didn’t seem very approachable, what with her almost aloof nature;

  And then, there was Yupanai Nomari who bore the title All-Oblivions. Verlaine and Sevens had higher levels than him, and both were undoubtedly more powerful than him as mages, but in terms of pure combat prowess, Yupanai outclassed them by a wide margin. He was the party’s best natural fighter bar none.

  It was difficult not to feel intimidated in front of such a person. He exuded a presence that made one feel weak.

  “What is it, Lord Nomari?” Lilieth asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “When Verlaine invited you to the party, all of us made the decision to accept you,” he said. “It was a vote, and it was unanimous.”

  Lilieth blinked. “I ... um ...”

  “As you know, our party lacked anyone who knew Sculpt magic, and we didn’t just want to invite any old coot. What we were looking for was talent—potential. Verlaine saw that and more in you. That’s why we invited you and why everyone agreed to it. You’re leveling slower than you expected, and it bothers you.” He scoffed. “Of course, you’re from the boonies, so you wouldn’t know it, but leveling is just odd like that. It can be fast, slow, and even not happen at all. We accounted for that.”

  Lilieth just stood there listening to Yupanai’s words, unsure of what to say or how to react. He ... seemed to be giving advice? Or trying to comfort her? Yupanai had never acted this way before.

  “I accepted you being invited into this team,” he continued, turning away from the painting and walking slowly towards Lilieth. “Just like everyone else did. And I’m not someone who regrets my decisions, Lasvenn. I know who I am at all times, and my every choice is consistent with that. That’s why I won’t regret anything.”

  He stopped just in front of her, the unnerving height difference between them forcing her to take two steps back. His eyes were dark red rubies, matching the intensity of his reputation. Lilieth’s breath stopped.

  “It looks to me, Lasvenn, that you don’t know who you are.”

  Lilieth flinched. “Lord Nomari, what do you—”

  “You’re not here because a goddess told you to be here. You’re here because we allowed you to be here. Do you understand me?”

  She was speechless.

  He clicked his tongue. “Of course, you don’t. All you think about is goddess this, mission that. I don’t mind if you do that in your free time, but don’t let it interfere with our duties.”

  Listening to his words, Lilieth could feel her blood boiling. She took a deep but quiet breath, trying to get her nerves in order. Yupanai Nomari was someone of higher standing compared to Lilieth. She had to be respectful to him, but she couldn’t just let that slide.

  “Lord Nomari, I request that you take back what you said.”

  Yupanai scoffed. “What I said? What did I say?”

  “That I’m not here because of Lady Eulalie. I am grateful that you accepted me into the party—and I am in no way trying to say that I’m not—but I am an apprentice priestess of the Perpetuation. You cannot insult my faith.”

  “Insult? I’m not trying to insult anything, Lasvenn. The fact that you’re saying I am says more about you than it does me. Were you even listening to a word I said?”

  “I—”

  “Ah, ah, ah. Hush. I talk, you listen, okay? What I’m saying here is simple: You’re here as a member of the hero’s party, not as a priestess. Whatever delusional ‘visions’ you’re having, keep them to yourself. Don’t involve us. Do not waste our time. We will foster your growth as a mage, but don’t expect us to flatter you any further than we already have.”

  Lilieth’s hands tightened around the hem of her dress.

  “Lord Verlaine ... he agreed that there is value in checking—”

  She was cut off by laughter. “You do know he’s only humoring you, right? He’s a smart man. He knows what’s important.”

  “He—”

  “I’m not arguing this with you. Gods, this is stupid. Forget about that ‘vision’ and focus on things that actually matter.”

  Yupanai walked away, his steps echoing in the wide, empty halls. Lilieth stood there, feeling ... well, certainly anything but good. Everything but good, in fact.

  She took a deep breath and clenched her fists.

  That’s right. She had faith in her own faith. Lady Eulalie had a plan for her. Of course, none of them could see it. It wasn’t them that She gave a vision to. It was her.

  Right now, Lilieth knew what was important to her. She knew who she was. And once she proves it, they’ll see.

  Lilieth Lasvenn strode off, outside of the palace, and followed the pull.

  With her steps barely making any sound, Talgerda landed on the balcony. In her hands was a paper bag filled with all kinds of items she'd bought, both edible and inedible. Being a member of a legendary hero’s party was convenient since you had both a lot of money and a lot of discounts in stores. Some people have tried giving her things for free, but she’d always adamantly refuse them. She appreciated a good deal, but she would never stoop so low as to rob merchants blind.

  Inside the room, Olivier Verlaine was sitting at his desk, looking over documents and reports, as he usually did. She never saw him not busy with something related to work. Of course, the damnable man always looked good doing it, too.

  “Coming in!” the half-elf said, dumping the overflowing paper bag onto one of his plush chairs. “Bought some snacks. Want some, Olivier?”

  “I’m alright; thanks.” Olivier gave a cursory glance at her before going back to his work. “I have to finish these papers before we leave.”

  Talgerda shrugged and took a seat on a nearby sofa. “You should’ve accompanied me. What kind of gentleman leaves a defenseless girl to wander the streets alone? Don’t you ever get worried?”

  “I’d be more worried for whoever tries to attack you.” He waved his hands, and a small stack of papers levitated through the air towards Talgerda. “Help me with these.”

  She pouted as she took the papers. “First, you reject my date invitation, then you make me do this? No tact whatsoever, Sir Hero. What are these anyway?”

  “Request forms; what else?” he replied. “I’m trying to sort through which commissions we can do on the way to Salcaeli and which ones can wait until after.”

  The term hero’s party evoked a sense of great importance and an expectation that they’d primarily fight demons or save the world and whatnot. In the end, however, they were just adventurers contracted with the Salt Kingdom, which meant they still had to do commission work. Of course, the quality and pay of their work was leagues above what most other adventurers could get, but work was still work. In other words: boring.

  Talgerda sifted through the papers, seeing commissions she was already used to seeing. “I’m appalled that legendary heroes like you still have to do paperwork.” Her eyes brightened several skimmed papers in; “Oh, this one’s asking for protection from an ‘ancient ghost that whispers secrets of forgotten desserts’. I kinda want to say yes.”

  “Denied. Next.”

  “Boo. The old you would’ve jumped at the chance to fight mysterious pastry ghosts.”

  “The old me wasn’t yet a hero,” he said so matter-of-factly that it made Talgerda’s heart ache.

  The half-elf stood up, walked over to him, and leaned in close. Olivier stopped what he was doing and looked at her, wearing that same calm expression he always had. Their faces were close enough that they could feel each other’s breaths on their skin.

  “Do you regret becoming a hero?” she whispered.

  “No.” His answer was quick and sharp.

  “Even though heroes aren’t exactly as glamorous as the songs made them seem?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Olivier said nothing.

  The door opened, and Mirena Ljutomira entered with a look of worry on her face.

  “Sir Verlaine, I just got word from ...” she spoke in a haste but trailed off when she saw Talgerda. A complicated expression formed on her face. The half-elf stepped away and went back to sitting down.

  “What is it, Mirena?” Olivier asked.

  Mirena shook her head and adjusted her glasses. She seemed serious. “I received a report from Salcaeli. The demonic front is collapsing.”

  Olivier straightened up. “Explain.”

  “... An archdemon has been sighted.”