[A Week Ago]
"You're the Goddess of what, exactly?"
I grunted as I pushed through another set of push-ups, the dirt beneath my palms warm, my muscles taut with effort.
"Please tell me it's something cool like time, or destruction, or at least death. Something cheating. Something useful."
[
Her tone oozed confidence. That should've been my first warning.
"Better? Really? Alright, hit me. Impress me."
For a brief, blissfully ignorant moment, I actually got excited. Maybe I'd lucked out, maybe she was some omnipotent deity with a broken power set.
Then she dropped it.
[]
The tiny spark of hope inside me died a cold, efficient death.
I paused mid-push-up, face dropping flat into the ground with a thud.
That narcissistic goddess.
Ever since I told her Ephera was prettier than her, she'd been relentless, droning on about her 'divine perfection', her 'glorious charm', and her 'heavenly allure'. And now she had the audacity to double down on that fantasy?
"A lying Goddess and a useless one. I really hit the divine lottery, didn't I," I muttered, sarcastically
[
"Sure, sure. I totally believe you, my radiant deity," I said, waving a dismissive hand without looking up.
[She isn't lying, Edward.]
I froze. "Jarvis? Oh, come on. You too?"
[You shouldn't underestimate her.]
"What did she do, bribe you with a divine kiss? Ah, kids these days...can't resist hormones and shiny promises."
[You are a teenager, Edward.]
"Minor details," I said quickly, standing up and stretching my sore arms. "Alright, fine. Let's pretend for a second that our majestic Cleenah really is the Goddess of Beauty. Enlighten me, then how is your 'beauty' more powerful than time or destruction?"
[
The smugness in her tone made a vein in my forehead twitch.
[
I blinked.
"…Come again?"
[
As in ghosts. Women ghosts. The wailing kind.
A chill crawled down my spine and not the kind caused by cold air. I kept my face neutral, but my palms started sweating instantly.
[] She said proudly. [
Thousands. Of ghosts. Women ghosts.
"..."
[
My brain started muting every word after died.
[
Murderous ghosts...
[
So… ghost therapy. With fatal consequences...
[
Maybe it was the eerie laugh, maybe it was the 'bound forever' part but my brain officially checked out. Terror had taken its seat.
I'd stopped processing her teasing ages ago. My arms went numb. My heartbeat thudded loud in my ears.
I… really, really hated ghosts.
***
Sekrin Town
Sekrin was a quiet town nestled in the rolling green valleys of Falkrona territory, five hundred people. Everyone knew everyone. Neighbors helped neighbors. Disputes ended with handshakes, not blood.
The mayor, Eric Mumford, had been the town's heartbeat for decades — both doctor and leader, healer of bodies and hearts. People worshipped him like a blessed saint.
He lived with his gentle wife and their daughter, Mary who was a bright, kind girl whose smile lit every corner of the village. She was easily the most beautiful soul in Sekrin, so every boy within five miles had inevitably fallen for her at least once.
Eric was proud of her, but protective. Fifteen was too young for marriage. He'd saved for years, penny by penny, dreaming to send her to [Royal Eden Academy]. The plan was to surprise her with the letter on her sixteenth birthday.
Fate, however, had different ideas.
Yann was fifteen, awkward, persistent, and completely obsessed with Mary. For two years he'd confessed, chased, and embarrassed himself. Every rejection shattered him a little more, and the whispers of his friends turned mockery into fury.
"Mary! I love you, please go out with me!"
"Yann, I told you… I'm not interested in romance."
She said it kindly, but he heard it as cruelty. He grabbed her wrist before she could leave.
"G-Get off!"
Fabric tore. Her sleeve ripped open, revealing pale skin. Bottles tumbled from her basket, crashing onto the dusty street and spilling bitter medicine.
Mary's eyes welled up instantly.
"Mary, wait—I didn't—"
She jerked away, sobbing, and ran.
Word got around before she reached home. A child saw everything. The mayor didn't need Mary to tell him; shame burned through the small town quickly. Yann wasn't exiled as Sekrin was too soft for that but he was condemned to months of hard labor. His name turned sour. Nobody wanted him around.
And bitterness festers when left alone too long.
He found a poison-seller, a nameless traveler passing by and bought death in a vial. Mary fell sick days later. Her skin turned purple, veins darkening like ink beneath her flesh.
Fear spread like wildfire.
Even neighbors who'd once called the Mumfords family now whispered behind curtains. The sickness moved through the town, and despite Eric's desperate efforts, no cure worked.
Letters were sent for assistance. Falkrona's capital ignored them overwhelmed with petitions, too busy to care about one small town.
Days turned into a month.
Half the town was ill. People threw stones at their windows, shouting curses at night.
Mary heard every word.
Monster. Cursed child. Heretic.
By her sixteenth birthday, she had stopped crying. The tears had simply… run out.
That night, her parents called her downstairs. Candlelight shimmered off a simple cake, the number 16 drawn clumsily in icing.
"Sweetheart," her father said softly, "in times of sorrow, we mustn't forget joy."
Mary smiled weakly. "Y-Yes… Dad… Mom…"
She started to cry again not from fear, but from love. From warmth she hadn't felt in weeks. Their smiles trembled as they joined her.
They ate cake. They laughed. They pretended, just for a moment, that life was normal.
Then Mary wobbled, hand clutching her head. "Ah… I feel sleepy…"
Her father looked at her with a face carved in grief. "I'm sorry, my little girl."
Her mother turned away, sobbing openly as she ran from the room.
Eric lifted his frail daughter in his arms and carried her through the door. Outside, the entire town waited under a sickly moon, torches blazing in their hands.
Mary looked at her father, confusion flickering through her glassy eyes. "F-Father…?"
"It's okay, my little girl," Eric whispered, voice breaking. "It'll be over soon."
He knelt by a white coffin. The freshly dug grave stretched open beside it, silent.
"You can rest now, sweetheart."