Judgement

Trishe led us through the Divine Throne until we came to the chapel where I first met the Pope. The upper echelon of the church often met here for important decisions and discussions, using it as a sort of conference room. The massive doors were open allowing us to enter unannounced. Several dozen people milled about, locked in earnest conversations, with the Pope and his attendants seated on the far side beneath the towering sheets of stained glass. The sun shone brightly through the colored display, sending reds, blues, and yellows spinning through the room.

People paused as we entered, turning to stare. Their prying gaze sent chills racing across my spine and down my tail. There was no love in their faces, only blatant condemnation. I took strength in Soltair's presence, quickening my step to keep pace with his confident stride. Trishe remained behind, watching from just outside the doors.

"Soltair, present your slave," the Pope said. I gulped anxiously. In all my interactions with him, the Pope has never been this visibly upset.

"As you wish, Holy One," Soltair said. he stepped aside, allowing the full weight of their attention to rest on me.

I bowed my head as the council of priests silently observed me, intimidated by their presence. Although none of them unleashed their auras, I could feel each of them possessed monstrous amounts of mana.

The realization reminded me of the strange golden light that covered my vision. but before I could ponder it any further, the Pope spoke.

"You have committed grave crimes, slave. Because of your actions, several of our brethren, devout followers of the Divine, are slain. Were it any other case, we would have no choice but to offer you blood to appease the gods."

Hope wormed its way into my heart. Did that mean they wouldn't kill me? I quickly considered the possibilities but came up empty. The idea I wouldn't be fighting for my life had never crossed my mind.

"The Pantheon has declared their will for you to be spared, as unfathomable as it seems. However, we cannot simply overlook your sins. This council has decided that you will be stripped of your luxury and privilege, and forced to live with and like the other slaves. Access to our holy institution of knowledge will be forbidden, as will your presence with our brightest minds at the training grounds."

"You can't be serious!" Soltair interrupted. "As a hero, she must be prepared to fight the demons. Not even you can expect anything to come with this arrangement."

Soltair stood confidently amid the chapel, braving the whispered criticism of the crowd. The pope frowned, the small gesture twisting his features. "You dare question our decisions? Even so, your words are not without merit. To accumulate the necessary experience and ability to stand against her own kind, we have decided to allow the slave to attend restricted areas in the presence of a Father, or one designated by myself. She will be under close supervision to ensure her fiendish tendencies are kept in check."

I sighed in relief. Being banned from the library would have been the worst thing possible, barring execution, that is. Magic was one of the few things I actually enjoyed, even if it resulted in me hurting people. No, I couldn't think like that. Without magic, I wouldn't have even survived. As I'd resolved myself to the circumstance, Soltair suddenly shook his head.

"That won't work. Even if you won't admit it, I will. Regardless of her identity as a slave, Xiviyah is a hero. Those priests can only blame themselves for their death. Anyone who dares attack a hero is risking their life, and these are no exception."

First, there was silence. The Pope's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but before he could speak, the room erupted. Soltair stepped beside me protectively as the assembled priests threw insults and expressions of anger. "Filthblood," "Demon lover," and "Murderer" were the most common, and I bowed my head in shame.

"It's alright," I whispered. "I can handle this."

"I won't stand by for this injustice. If anyone had attacked me, their whole family would be mercilessly slaughtered by the church," he replied, his gaze never leaving the Pope.

"It is the will of the Gods!" The pope cried, his thunderous voice quieting the chapel. I gulped at the fury in his eyes and took a step back.

"Nonsense. Do you claim the gods ordered this exact punishment? Didn't you just claim they only commanded to spare her?" Soltair shot back.

"My words are absolute. You would do well to obey," the Pope said, a hint of warning entering his voice.

"Soltair, don't fight this. I can manage," I said, tugging his arm. "It's better than we hoped for."

He gave me a long searching look, to the point I almost blushed at the intimacy. Finally, he let out a sigh and nodded. "Very well, if that's okay with you." He raised his head and looked around the crowd. "But if anyone is so foolish as to assault her again, you can only blame yourselves for what happens."

The room dropped several degrees, and even the most arrogant priest took a step back. The Pope clapped his hands together, and the pressure disappeared. "That's quite enough, hero. Know your place. You are dismissed."

"Come on." Soltair took my hand, pulling me from the chapel.

"Are you sure that's alright?" I asked quietly, "Threatening them and all?"

"Not really," he snorted, "But what else could I do? We can't let them think you're an easy target."

"Wasn't that the point? I thought you only got a slave because they needed a target."

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "In a few months, things will be different. They won't have any control at that point."

"Oh?" Trithe asked, falling in beside us. "Is it decided then?"

"Yeah."

I looked back and forth between them, feeling confused. "What's going on?"

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Trishe asked, exaggerating her tone, "I guess you weren't important enough to tell."

"Not you too," Soltair said, exasperated. "We're going to be meeting up with the other heroes in a few months, at the Summer Festival. After that, things are going to get interesting. I don't know all the plans, but it involves finally getting out of this place and adventuring in the real world."

"Really? That sounds exciting," I said. Despite saying that, I couldn't help but feel different. Would things really change that much? Wouldn't people still stare and judge, blinded by their prejudice? My magic wasn't especially useful in fights, either, nor could I stomach the idea of killing again. I shivered as the shredded corpses of the priests came to my mind, staring at me with cold, soulless eyes.

I looked up as Soltair lay a hand on my shoulder. "Let's not worry about that for now. The world has high expectations of its heroes, and we can use all the training we can get."

"Yeah. Oh, Soltair, I'm going into town tomorrow. Care to join me?" Trishe asked rather suddenly.

"Huh? What for?"

"Oh, nothing special. I heard of this new food place that opened. It's supposed to have really exotic food from the Western continent."

"Sounds interesting," Soltair said. "Xiviyah, want to come?"

Trishe glared at me, shaking her head ever so slightly. Was this supposed to be a date? Perhaps another time I would have argued, but dispirited as I was, I couldn't muster the motivation. "I have to spend some time mastering a few things, so I'm good."

"Oh, okay." My heart twitched a bit at his disappointment, but the surprised look on Trishe's face was almost worth it.

As fun as going into the city sounded, something else called my attention. The Eyes of Fate.