It began at dusk.
The sky was grey, heavy clouds rolling over the village like bruised silk. A low hum drifted through the air — not thunder, not wind, but something between prayer and breath.
Cael stood at the church steps, hand over the forget-me-not pressed to his chest. The petals had darkened since morning, tinged faintly red, though he told himself it was only the fading light.
Elior waited beside him, lantern in hand. "The Goddess grieves again," the priest murmured. "When Her sorrow falls, we must open our hearts."
The first drop struck the ground. It bloomed crimson against the cobblestones. Then another. And another.
Rain — soft, steady — but red as blood.
The villagers emerged from their homes, faces lifted to the sky. None screamed. None fled. They simply knelt, hands clasped, letting the crimson water soak through their hair and clothes.
"Rejoice," Elior said. "She washes us clean."
Cael felt the rain slide down his face, warm and metallic. It streaked his armor, painted his hands. When he looked down, the puddles reflected not his face but countless others — pale, hollow-eyed, mouths open in silent prayer.
He stepped back. The images rippled, then vanished.
"Holy Lord," Serah called from beneath the archway, her voice trembling between awe and fear. "Do you see? She has accepted your offering."
"My offering…" he repeated, the words strange in his mouth. He remembered the woman in the forest — the way her hands reached for him before she fell. The way her eyes looked almost human.
He shook the thought away. Demons take many forms. They lie.
But the rain kept falling, thicker now, heavier. The ground beneath his feet turned slick. The villagers laughed and cried all at once, their voices blending into a hymn that swelled with unbearable joy.
Elior raised his lantern high. "Her mercy descends! Let every sin be drowned!"
And for a moment — just a heartbeat — Cael saw it: not villagers kneeling, but pale shapes sprawled across white tile, streaks of red spreading outward like petals.
He blinked. The vision was gone. The rain continued. The hymn rose higher.
He forced himself to smile. "Her mercy," he said softly. "Always Her mercy."
The forget-me-not on his chest had turned entirely red.