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Before he knew her name, he knew her as the High Priestess of the Temple of San Magnolia. He knew her as the person with healing magic that did not leave his bones sore and tired from being forced to mend. The person who made warmth creep into the cold and disconnected parts of his body, gently tugging the seams of him together. She was different from the other priestesses, who, thinking he was unconscious still, commented on disliking his colors .
She had no reason to attend to him. She never did. Women of her position needed not to touch dirty outsiders like him , one of her priestesses had said. But the High Priestess, Vladilena Milizé , insisted on taking responsibility for him. She asked him about mundane things such as the sea. Vladilena showed great disappointment at his answer. It’s not impressive , Shin had said. Her reaction caused his heart to ache, and he added, I heard the beaches down South are better , delighting in the way her face bloomed. She continued to visit him each morning, beyond her self-imposed duty. Each time, she had similar questions. Each time, he answered them.
On one such morning, Vladilena tells him, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Her people called her a saint. The reincarnation of a goddess, come to save humanity from inevitable doom. Shin was no believer in the supernatural, but when the High Priestess knelt before him and took his face into her hands, he understood why people went to war and died for their faith.
It hit him, not for the first time, that she was beautiful.
A silver knife is handed to him by her delicate hand. The movement makes the jewelry on her wrist twinkle like a bell. Confused, and bewildered that she would offer such a dangerous object to an outsider, Shin rests still, waiting for an explanation.
Vladilena’s pristine white and gold robe falls to her waist, exposing her pale skin, unmarred if not for a brand that covers nearly her entire back.
“Carve this out of me,” she requests. “Please.”
He realizes, then, that this is the reason why she had an outsider like him remain under her watchful gaze. No one else would dare deface her in this manner. Shin reaches out his hand to touch the brand. The texture startles him. It is no divine sign of a goddess bestowed to a saint. It is, instead, entirely man-made. Etched into her skin by means of magic.
“They branded me when I was born. I was bred for this. The perfect sacrifice, to be taken by fire. Like Saint Magnolia. When spring ends, they are going to…” Even as she poises this, she clutches her arms closer to herself, avoiding his eyes. As if she can't bear the weight of her words, brought down by guilt. “They are going to kill me to bring her back. So please…”
“I won’t let you die.”
His words echo around the cathedral-like acoustics of the room assigned to him.
“Then do it.”
Shin has harmed and killed, but this knife weighs too heavily in his hands for him to bear.
“Do it!”
Ignoring her shrill scream, he presses his palm to her back, the silver knife forgotten. Shin covers her bare skin with the robe she removed and presses his forehead to the back of Vladilena’s neck. She smells of incense and flowers. Goosebumps rise over her skin at his closeness.
“I won’t hurt you either.”
Shin makes a request of his own.
“Run away with me."