Note the previous chapter was updated

  The old man twirled the leaf between his fingers, his gaze distant as if peering into a past long forgotten by most. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

  “I suppose that is what they say nowadays,” he murmured. “To head the church, to be the voice of the goddess… yes, that is what the world has chosen to believe.” His tone held an air of amusement, but beneath it, there was something else—something heavier.

  Melissa frowned slightly. “Are you saying that’s not true?”

  The old man sighed, releasing the leaf into the wind. It danced through the air before settling onto the neatly trimmed grass. “Not entirely false, but not the whole truth either.” He turned his sharp eyes to Melissa. “Tell me, child, do you know why there must always be a Priestess? Not just in name, but in existence?”

  Melissa hesitated. The question sounded simple, but something about the way he asked it made her uneasy. “Because the goddess wills it?” she offered, though this time, there was less certainty in her voice.

  The old man let out a low chuckle. “Ah, faith—how convenient.” He took a step forward, his hands csped behind his back as he began walking slowly through the garden. “You were just made Priestess, correct? And yet, you do not even know why you were chosen, nor the true weight of your role.”

  Melissa followed him cautiously. “Then tell me. If the purpose of the Priestess is not just to lead the church and serve as the voice of the goddess, then what is it?”

  The old man stopped and turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

  The old man let out a deep sigh, as if he had expected her answer but still found it disappointing. He turned his gaze upward, staring at the vast sky above Soran Keep. “, even the King of this era knows so little,” he muttered under his breath.

  Melissa frowned. “What do you mean? The Kingdom of Pentra is the heart of civilization. The nobles speak of distant nds, but none have ever been confirmed. The continent we stand on is all that truly matters, is it not?”

  The old man chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, child… the world is far greater than you can imagine.” He walked forward, gesturing for Melissa to follow. She hesitated but stepped alongside him as they moved deeper into the castle’s vast garden.

  “Tell me, Melissa,” he continued, “if I were to tell you that beyond the seas you have only recently heard of, there are nds untouched by your kingdom’s reach—pces where Pentra’s name holds no weight—what would you say?”

  Melissa’s brows furrowed. “I… I suppose it would be difficult to believe.”

  The old man gave her a knowing smirk. “And yet, it is true.”

  Melissa stopped walking. “Then why has no one ever spoken of these pces? Why does the church not teach of them?”

  The old man turned to face her fully, his expression serious now. “Because knowing is dangerous. The truth of the world is a burden, and most are too fragile to carry it.”

  Melissa crossed her arms. “Then why tell me?”

  His smirk returned, but his eyes held something else—something ancient and knowing. “Because, my dear child, you are no longer just Melissa. You are the Priestess. And it is time you learned what that truly means.”

  What if I told you the goddess is no more

  Melissa's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the old man, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. "What… what do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  The old man let out a small sigh, twirling the leaf he had caught between his fingers. "Exactly as I said, child. The goddess you are meant to speak for—the divine being whose will you cim to represent—is no more."

  Melissa shook her head. "That’s impossible. The goddess is eternal. She watches over us from the divine realm. We receive her blessings, her miracles—"

  "Do you?" the old man interrupted, his gaze sharp. "Or do you only receive what you were told is hers?"

  Melissa took a step back. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was bsphemy. This was heresy. And yet… there was something in his voice, in his eyes, that made it impossible to dismiss.

  "You’re lying," she said, but there was no conviction in her words.

  The old man chuckled. "Am I?" He spread his arms wide. "Tell me, Melissa, when was the st time a true miracle happened? Not a ritual, not a prayer answered by men, but a true act of divine intervention?"

  Melissa opened her mouth to answer but found no words. She had been raised in the teachings of the church. She had memorized the stories, the histories, the miracles of old. But as she thought about it, she realized… all the miracles she knew were from the past.

  The old man saw the hesitation in her eyes and nodded. "Now you see. The truth is, your goddess has been gone for a very, very long time.

  As Melissa and the old man made their way through the winding path of the garden, the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the vibrant foliage.

  Ahead, they spotted a clearing adorned with simple wooden seats arranged in a circle around a crackling fire. The fmes flickered invitingly, casting pyful shadows on the ground. It was a serene spot, the perfect pce to rest and reflect after the weighty conversation the was about to share

  Take a seat he gestured to Melissa.

  As the old man sat by the flickering fire, he gazed into the fmes, his eyes reflecting the embers like memories of a time long past. Melissa leaned closer, intrigued by the tale he was about to unfold.

  “After the war ended, when the bloodshed and chaos subsided, the 21 gods convened in the Celestial Council. They had witnessed the devastation wrought upon our world, a realm torn apart by conflict, betrayal, and suffering. The remnants of what could not be destroyed y scattered across the nd—ruins of once-great cities, echoes of lost lives, and fragments of shattered dreams. It was a sight that could bring even the mightiest of deities to their knees,” he began, his voice heavy with the weight of history.

  “The gods knew that if the remnants were left unchecked, darkness would rise again, fueled by the resentment and anguish of those who survived. So, in a grand act of sacrifice, they agreed to seal away the remnants of the old world—an act that would require their entire power. One by one, they poured their essence into a single, unbreakable seal. It was a blinding light that swallowed the remnants, and in that moment, the gods vanished from existence, their divine forms forever lost to the realms of mortals.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened as she absorbed the gravity of his words. “But what happened to the world after that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Their sacrifice was not in vain,” the old man replied, a flicker of hope igniting in his tone. “With their power, they mended the ruins of our world, stitching together the nd where it had been torn asunder. They infused it with life once more, making it habitable for the generations to come. Forests grew where deserts once y, rivers flowed where cracks had marred the earth, and the skies cleared, filled with the promise of a new dawn. It was as if the gods, in their final act, breathed life into the world anew, granting us a second chance.”

  He paused, letting the weight of the story sink in. “And so, though the gods are no longer with us, their legacy remains etched into the very fabric of our existence. We owe it to them to honor their memory and ensure that the mistakes of the past are not repeated

  Note

  The House of Vienar, once revered as the military backbone of the Kingdom of Pentra, faced a devastating blow following a significant rebellion that shook the very foundations of the realm. Reports to the king indicated that approximately 50 percent of their military power had been lost in the conflict.

  In the aftermath, House Vienar sought to maintain their honor and justify their losses. They cimed that all who died in the rebellion were valiant soldiers fighting against the traitorous rebels, framing the narrative to emphasize their loyalty and bravery. Propaganda circuted through the kingdom, portraying the fallen as martyrs who had given their lives in defense of the crown and the established order. This was an attempt to rally support for the remaining troops and to dissuade any further dissent that might threaten their power.

  Despite their efforts, the significant reduction in military strength had far-reaching consequences. The loss weakened House Vienar's position not only within the royal court but also in their influence over the other Great Houses. The power vacuum created by their diminished forces allowed rival factions to gain traction, further destabilizing the kingdom. As House Vienar struggled to recim their former glory,