Daughter of the moon

In a small town nestled in the northern reaches of the Salona Empire, a veiled feminine figure and an old man dressed in priestly robes brave the harsh, snowy landscape. Despite the intense blizzard swirling around them, they walk with an air of ease and determination, as if taking a leisurely stroll along a tranquil beach.

The veiled figure moves gracefully, her long cloak billowing behind her as she navigates the snow-covered path with ease. Though her features are hidden beneath the veil, there is an aura of regality and purpose about her.

Beside her, the old man walks with a steady gait, his weathered face showing no signs of discomfort from the biting cold. He carries himself with a quiet confidence, his eyes sharp and observant despite his advanced age.

*

Upon arriving in the town, we seek shelter in a dilapidated and run-down temple. As soon as I am inside my room, I remove the veil and cloth covering my face, revealing my features to the dim light of the temple. I also take off the headpiece jewelry, a moon-shaped crystal..

The attire I wear is that of a "Daughter of the Moon," Salona's equivalent of nuns on Earth. The colors are white, grey, and blue, with only my eyes visible beneath the veil. The moon-shaped crystal rests between my eyebrows, a symbol of my supposed devotion to the moon goddess.

Finally free from the stressful attire, I let out a sigh of relief. If Kai were here, he would probably die of laughter at the sight. It's day 120 of my pilgrimage with the Pope, and I can't help but wonder how the boys are doing. I haven't been in contact with anyone other than the old man, and the towns we visit are chosen at random.

Sometimes our mission is one of spreading hope, helping the homeless and providing food for those in need. But other times, like this assignment, we are here to carry out the goddess's justice. It's a reminder that I am no longer on Earth, and justice here often means dealing with corrupt nobles and those in power, code word for "eliminating ie killing" them.

In the said town, there's a process for applying for "justice of the moon," where requests are sent to the main church. The church receives millions of these requests, far more than they could possibly handle. However, some are chosen and completed, providing a glimmer of hope for the people in the empire.

I can't help but wonder how many lives are affected by the decisions made through this process. How many people's blood is on my hands? Should I be concerned that I don't feel more remorse? It is what it is.

A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, and an old woman dressed in the attire of a devotee enters.

"Saintess, we've prepared a bath for you," she says respectfully. I've stopped fighting against these fanatics calling me Saintess. To the truly devoted and faithful, there's a halo or light around me, so in their eyes, I am a Saintess.

I follow her out to a small room with a wooden tub filled with warm water. It's a luxury in these parts, and I'm grateful for it. I undress and sink into the water, feeling the warmth seep into my slightly freezing toes. It's a brief respite from the weight of my duties.

*

I stand in the dimly lit room, the moonlight filtering through the dilapidated window casting an ethereal glow. It's time to work.

Dressed in my attire adorned with symbols of the moon, I retrieve a large metal rod from my spatial bag. Its head is a menacing metal ball adorned with spikes, connected by a short chain. I feel the weight of the weapon in my hand, the power it holds. It's like those medieval weapons, I love it.

As I feel the necklace with the three moon phases around my neck, I feel divine energy coursing through my veins. The familiar hum of a popular church hymn escapes my lips as I drag the weapon across the crooked wooden floor, the sound grating against the silence of the temple.

Stepping out of the room, I am greeted by the sight of the Pope, whom I affectionately call "gramps." He avoids making eye contact with me, knowing what I am about to do. I am in what I like to call my "power-up" state, a moment of heightened divine connection, I laugh at my childish naming sense.

The first time this happened, the Pope told me he couldn't look me in the eyes for fear of going blind. But the brief second he did, my eyes glowed blue, matching the crystal head ornament on my forehead. It must be quite a sight, I think to myself with a snicker. I wish someone could capture this moment of me doing some main character shit.

But my thoughts are quickly pulled away by the cries and pain that internally surround me as I walk through the faded halls of the temple. The anguish of those in need cuts through me, fueling my determination.

The sound of a father's prayers echoes through my mind, a stark reminder of the task at hand. It's time to bring justice, to quench the thirst for blood that burns within me.

*

The room was heavy with the scent of alcohol, where a group of men sat drinking, while scantily clad, barely adult girls served them in the freezing weather, some even on the floor.

"Have you heard the rumor?" one of the men slurred.

"What nonsense is he on about now?" another man replied as the rest burst into laughter.

"I'm serious…" the slurring man continued.

"There's talk about a blue-eyed daughter of the moon... rumors have it that she's the chosen one..." He took another large gulp of alcohol.

"... they say when you hear humming and the sound of her weapon dragging across the ground... she's there not as a saintess, but as the goddess' wrath..." the slurring man finished, and the rest of the men burst into laughter.

"It's just rumors started by those devotees to give themselves hope," another man said while pouring another cup of alcohol.

"Right, ha ha ha. If she's so real, why isn't she here?" a man said and toasted with another.

Suddenly, the faint sound of humming and clanking of chains, metal scraping against the floor, was heard.

It was ignored at first.

The girls heard it this time; they stopped what they were doing and knelt to the floor.

"What's with you, bitch?!" a man kicked a kneeling girl. She whimpered but remained still and in position.

The door burst open with an enormous force, and there stood a feminine figure with a large weapon, a flail, at her left arm dragging against the floor.

The men looked at her, and their eyes practically melted out of their sockets as they started to scream.

"Leave," she said softly.

The girls scrambled out of the room, eyes on the floor.

After the girls left, the door slammed shut.

"Oh dear, I thought you wanted me here? This is quite the poor reception. Can't you see me?" the girl said.

The men kept screaming.

"Oh dear, oops," the girl said and with a wave of her right arm, a warm blue-white light spread across the room and the men were healed.

"See me now?" the girl said, with a smile, although they couldn't see it with her face being covered and all.

"You, you're real," said the man who wasn't slurring anymore.

"Yes, dear. It's too late now; let's skip the begging and be men and accept your fate. You, the one with the wet pants, you're up first," the girl said, lifting her weapon to her shoulder.

With a signal of her hand, he was dragged to her front. She swiftly wielded her weapon towards the man's head, and it exploded, leaving a headless body and blood and brain matter splashed on everyone in the room.

After a swift pause of silence, the men began to scream anew, trying to flee but their feet and bodies wouldn't listen to them.

"You don't think that's it?" the girl motioned her hand again, and the exploded matter gathered again, reforming his head.

"You don't deserve a swift death. The screams of the girls, their blood on your hands, the pleas of their families... you will not know peace until you feel a fraction of their pain. Since you're such horrible people, emotional pain won't cut it. I will kill you, break your limbs, and heal you over and over and over again until you suffer. Now, who's next? I have all the time in the world," the girl said.

The quiet little town in the northern part of Salona heard screams for hours and hours until dawn.