An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege-Chapter 29: Lucinda the flaming Maiden(3)...

[For in the light, shadows are born & in flames, ashes remember.]

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This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

"From the breath of the First Spark rose the tongues of flame, speaking in hunger, devouring names yet unwritten."

A voice filled the air of the town square—soft yet resounding, like the crackling of dawn. It was sweet, like the light of morning, yet grand and majestic in its tone. At its sound, all murmuring ceased. Even those lost in grief fell silent, as though the voice had descended from the ancient heavens themselves.

It echoed in the hearts and souls of all present, and even the flames upon the altar swayed as if moving in tandem with it.

And that was no illusion.

Krael turned his gaze toward the object of everyone's fixation.

And there she was.

A maiden so pure, so impossibly beautiful, that the mortals felt unworthy of laying their eyes upon her.

Strangely enough, no part of her body was visible beneath her garments, yet the aura surrounding her declared to the world that she would be the most breathtaking of women, even unseen. It was not her form but the favor of the divine that made her so.

While Krael did not seem as spellbound as the others, he too knew she was beautiful.

For the ravings had told him so.

Beneath the gold and crimson robes—different from those worn by the other sisters—was a woman of such ethereal grace that she had no business being here.

This close to the Wall, in the remote East? This was not where a lady of her stature should be.

Her robes were inscribed with sacred scripts, each word sewn like glowing embers. The fabric shifted, breathing like a living thing.

The aura surrounding her was unlike anything the people of Maesta had ever witnessed. No mortal in this county, if they had never left its borders, could have ever seen such divinity.

Another sign that she did not belong here if it was not obvious yet.

Krael's eyes flickered to the people, noting how every one of them was utterly transfixed by her—even though she was not addressing them.

She merely knelt upon the cracked cobblestone, bowing in prayer before the flaming altar and its shifting embers.

The air grew warmer as if the flames themselves were welcoming their beloved child home.

She remained in prayer until she had finished, and when she finally stood, it felt as if the world had held its breath.

Hidden beneath the flowing golden veil were the most simple yet elegant eyes Krael had ever seen.

They were brown—the color of wheat, soft and tender—yet within them burned an undeniable fire, a richness that made them more captivating than they had any right to be.

Her face was sculpted to perfection, crafted in such a way that it could ensnare the hearts of believers without effort. And yet, no one looked upon her with lust.

They could not dare to.

Her skin was the palest shade, tinged with a warmth that made her appear perpetually flushed, adding to her delicate beauty.

Her lips were brushed with the softest shade of red—like silk, yet with depths Krael could not yet comprehend.

Unfortunately, the rest of her remained obscured beneath layers of fabric, leaving one to wonder how she moved so effortlessly.

Drifting among the sick and wounded, she whispered quiet prayers, and with each word, healing took place at a rate that made the other nuns seem redundant.

The sisters were so reverent in her presence that Krael found himself raising an internal eyebrow.

Everyone's eyes remained on her, and many awaited their turn to receive her blessing.

Yet, there was one detail about her that Krael had refused to acknowledge—for had he done so, he might have broken into a fit of rage.

Too bad it was impossible to miss.

This particular sister, though young, was nearly as tall as Adler.

Reminding him yet again of the handicap he was accorded by blood.

And something about the way she carried herself screamed danger to the Count.

All this time, he had not once stepped out of his carriage. Everything he observed, he saw through the darkened carriage windows.

Which only fueled the resentment of the people further.

They expected him to have stepped out of the carriage, and come to offer words of encouragement, to come and kneel in worship at the sacred altar, to offer food and drink to the sisters who worked hard to treat his people, but, no, the count was much too important for any of that.

But the young Count could care less about the thoughts; they seemed to believe they were entitled to.

Krael finally turned his gaze away from her, contemplating the words she had spoken earlier.

And then he recognized them.

A verse from the Holy Scripture of the Worship of the Eternal Flame and Endearing Light.

That collection of scriptures called The Embers' Whisper.

Under normal circumstances, this should not have been strange.

Everyone in Astrea knew the nine verses by heart.

But the ability to utter them in such a way required standing within the faith—power that was not granted lightly.

And for such words to hold this level of divine might?

That required a blessing from the Flame itself.

So when they had called her Chosen—

When they had said she was Favored—

They had not been exaggerating.

Krael did not know how to approach this situation.

It was strange. Nothing followed the script he was familiar with.

Why was a high-ranking member of the clergy here, within his domain?

Lost in thought, he did not immediately notice the shift in attention.

He did not realize that everyone's eyes had turned toward his carriage.

They were all looking at him.

As if they could not wait for him to drop dead right then and there.

At first, he could not understand it.

Yes, he knew someone had been working behind the scenes to stoke the people's hatred against him, but it should not have escalated to this degree yet.

And then he saw it.

A pair of familiar, enchanting eyes—gazing at him through his strangely colored windows.

Rich brown, burning like smoldering embers...

The sister had unknowingly made her way to his carriage.

And he had not even noticed.