There were only two ways to reach Ascension.
Through Virtue, being a Saint chosen by the Balance.
Or through Sin, by spilling blood.
Sid read those three lines, again and again, confused as to why these mundane lines occupied such a small portion of the large canvas of paper before her, with nothing else blessing its empty expanse. Most of all, she focused on the last line.
"Or through Sin, by spilling blood."
Why would Sin, the supposed antithesis of Virtue–and as a result, the Balance–be able to lead a person to Ascension?
An even bigger question floated into her mind.
How much blood would need to be spilled to birth a God?
Shuddering at the mere thought of it, Sid hurriedly closed the scroll, as if the act of looking away could wash away her current mental state.
She stared at the golden beads encompassing both ends of the scroll, her gaze unmoving. Her fingers traced over the sharp edge of the paper, biting into her soft yet bony hands.
She tried healing herself, the blood slowly rolling back into the closing wound.
But the process did not feel any quicker, it did not feel any more…divine.
It did not feel like the power of a Saint.
Most importantly, the illuminating green that Virt had almost constantly emitted when healing did not appear. Instead, the usual white shimmer rippled across her skin, a sign of a Priest, yes, but not of a Saint.
Furrowing her brows, she put the scroll back where she found it, in the one empty slot in the shelf of the vast forbidden library. The hard beads clicked into place, fitting perfectly into the cylindrical mechanism used to store the ancient tapestries. Tales of myth, whispers of the divine and methods of healing all stored in this sanctuary of knowledge.
And yet, despite her curious nature, Sid felt alienated from this place. Like she didn't belong.
Since young she had heard of the mythos about Saints, their epic rise to Godhood via the Path of Virtue. The wondrous magic of their healing, the constant tales of their ability to respond to prayers at a moment's notice, seemingly aware of the people's pleas.
So then, why did she alone not feel all that magical?
Saints, supposedly, had an enclave of mercenaries, Priests and other miscellaneous men at their disposal. This had been true for Virt as well, his vast armada of underlings at his beck and call.
So why then, did she feel so isolated?
Walking out of the ancient library, she passed by the old halls of the Cathedral. Here, little maintenance was allocated, and thus, tiny vines and poppies sprouted out here and there. Shivering, Sid quickened her pace, finally exiting the huge limestone building.
A few minutes later, a woman lay curled up in a fetal position on her stiff bed. Her precious face was blemished with streaks of tears and rivers of snot.
'Am I really the Saint?'
'Please, Virt, please answer me…'
Somewhere far away, the prayer of a young woman was drowned in the never-ending wall of prayers.
The question burned bright, its incandescent flames unable to be snuffed, not even by the soothing water of Saintly reprieve.
She hated that blinding question, it stumped her, trapped her in her own mind of doubts.
Saints weren't supposed to wonder. They weren't supposed to beg for help. They certainly weren't supposed to pray to a dishonoured ex-Saint.
Wiping the tears and mucus off using her once white dress, Sid pushed herself off the hard foam.
Between sniffles, something inaudible was muttered under her breath.
And just like that, a new fire lit up her eyes.
That fire fueled a process of forgery.
A hammer rang.
A molten metal was shaped.
A steely resolve was born, its immolating heat encompassing her whole being.
The cold, harsh doubt was burned away by her white hot determination.
Clutching one knee, she rose to her feet, glancing down at her still papercut finger.
She healed it again, this time, the green radiance appeared.
A soft smile bubbled onto her lips.
'I was right, after all. I guess I was too tired just now.'
The ritual, the Elders, even the trail of that ominous black box had all pointed to her Sainthood. Why did she doubt so much?
'No more' she thought.
She was the Saint. A bona fide Saint, and no one could prove it otherwise.
For the simple fact that her healing glowed green.
Strutting out of her humble cottage, far away from the barracks of ex-Saint Virt, she witnessed an injured child, his bruised knee bleeding after getting caught in a nasty fall.
Walking over to him, Sid calmly placed her hands over his knee and started the healing process. A tiny pain could be felt in her knee, further reaffirming her suspicions that she was indeed the Saint.
The little boy watched in awe as Sid healed him, his pupils unmoving and his mouth releasing an involuntary "wow".
After healing the boy, he thanked her for her kindness, following up with an innocent,
"You're like my mom, she heals too! Even the colour is the same! Are you guys, like, twins?"
His remarks shocked Sid, not because of the mention of her healing being the same, but the fact his mom was also a Priest.
'He must have seen it wrong, the sun is extremely bright today, after all.'
The young, yellow haired boy ran away, a black and white ball with hexagonal patterns in his hand, joining his fellow friends. There seemed to be about twenty two of them.
And across the field from her, she saw Sid, still strolling around like he had owned the place.
'He must not believe the circumstances he's in.' She thought. 'He's lying to himself.'
Shaking her head, she sighed in defeat, still needing to look after that boy even after all these years. However, she could not talk with him, lest she herself be abandoned by the Balance.
So, she simply watched.
'It's unfortunate, really, after all–the most powerful lie is one that you make yourself believe'.