Beacai murmured softly. Her intense possessiveness and unnaturally low body temperature made Isis profoundly uncomfortable. Isis tried to struggle free once more, but her efforts were in vain. Instead, a sharp pain shot through her wrists.
Clang—!
The sound of chains rattling drew Beacai’s attention. She looked up, and a flicker of distress crossed her eyes when she saw Isis’s bound wrists.
“Don’t move. Your wrists are bleeding, and it pains me to see it.”
Beacai unfastened the chains that held Isis’s hands aloft. With the restraints gone, Isis, whose legs had grown numb, immediately collapsed onto the ground. Her arms were so weak she couldn’t even lift them.
Her skirt fanned out around her like a blooming flower. Her once neatly pinned hair had come loose, intertwining with the fabric in a scene of haunting beauty.
Her arms lay limp across her skirt, her wrists raw and bleeding from her struggles. A few drops of blood welled from the wounds, staining the delicate fabric of her dress. Seeing this, Beacai knelt before her and gently took hold of her wrist.
“Let me lick them clean for you.”
What?
Isis tried to pull her hand away, desperate to avoid Beacai’s touch. Yet, her numb arms offered no resistance, leaving her helpless as Beacai brought her wrist to her lips.
Then, under Isis’s unwilling gaze, Beacai extended a nimble tongue and delicately licked the wounds on her wrist. She moved with an innocent grace, much like a harmless little rabbit.
A soft, ticklish sensation spread across her wrist as Beacai’s tongue brushed against it. It was warm and moist, surprisingly comfortable, and the pain seemed to recede.
Within Isis’s heart, however, the humiliation of her helplessness only intensified.
Swiftly, under Beacai’s ministrations, the wounds on Isis’s wrists healed. Her skin became as flawless as before, and the scent of blood was replaced by an alluring lavender fragrance.
Once sensation returned to her arms, Isis forcefully pulled away from Beacai’s grasp. She rubbed her wrists vigorously, as if trying to scrub away the lingering aura of the Evil God.
Beacai’s gaze darkened at this sight. She tapped a finger against her lips, then offered a faint smile, bringing the birthday cake from its resting place to Isis’s front.
“It’s my birthday too. Is there anything you’d like to say to me, Mama?”
In the dim church, the burning candles on the cake illuminated Isis’s face. Her emerald eyes reflected the flames, revealing a flicker of worry for Nona.
Her golden hair veiled half of her face. Isis turned her head away, refusing to look at the cake, and softly uttered, “Let me go back…”
“What are you saying, Mama? I don’t want to hear that. You should be wishing me well, or perhaps, like you did with that other girl, warn me not to make mistakes in the future.”
“Dream on…”
Before Isis could finish her refusal, Beacai pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her. Then, right before her eyes, she produced a jewelry box.
“Shh, I’m going to open the birthday present you gave me.”
The sight of the jewelry box made Isis freeze for a moment. She then reached for her dress, and finding her pockets empty, her heart slowly sank.
‘That was the birthday present I prepared for Nona…’
Opening the box, Beacai carefully took out the gardenia pendant nestled on the velvet. After admiring its beauty, she fastened it around her own neck.
Gathering her skirt, she twirled gracefully in place. The pale moonlight bathed her form, illuminating the silver pendant on her chest, making her appear like a gardenia dancing beneath the night sky.
With one hand gently caressing the pendant and the other holding up her skirt, Beacai smiled and asked Isis, “Is it pretty, Mama?”
Her bright eyes fluttered, brimming with anticipation. She was like a little girl who had done something good and was waiting for praise, a sight no one could easily refuse.
Isis merely averted her gaze.
“No matter how beautiful it is, it doesn’t belong to you.”
Her enthusiasm extinguished once more, Beacai seemed to reach her limit of patience. Her face grew cold as she approached Isis, extending a hand before her eyes.
“…You’re truly disobedient, Mama. You should rest for a while.”
Crimson divine power coiled around her fingertips like streaks of lightning. Before Isis could offer any resistance, this power surged into her eyes and flowed into her body.
An agonizing pain erupted from the depths of her soul. Isis clutched at her throat, collapsing to the ground in torment, as if suffocating.
Agh—!
Her brows furrowed deeply, and her clutching hand quickly tightened into a chokehold. She could distinctly feel something beginning to defile her soul, twisting her very consciousness.
Disregarding her disheveled dress and the large expanse of pale skin revealed, she struggled desperately. She tried to expel the invading presence from her soul, but her efforts were futile.
The soul-piercing agony forced beads of fragrant sweat to trickle down her forehead. Her consciousness began to drift, making her feel as if she barely existed, and the hand gripping her throat soon went limp.
Beacai knelt before her, much like one tending to a pet. She took out a handkerchief to wipe the fragrant sweat from Isis’s brow, then spoke softly, “Why struggle, Mama? If you didn’t struggle, you wouldn’t be in so much pain.”
“What… what have you… done to me?”
“I merely want Mama to acknowledge me as her daughter, even if only for a moment.”
“Delusional…”
Uttering this, Isis expended the last of her strength. Her vision grew hazy, and she could only discern a silver silhouette crouching before her, emanating an eerily sweet scent.
Plop—plop—
The sound of water droplets hitting the surface echoed in Isis’s ears. She felt as though she was sinking into a bottomless sea of consciousness, countless crimson tentacles dragging at her ankles and wrists, pulling her deeper and deeper.
Beneath her, a colossal abyssal maw, bristling with sharp teeth, yawned open.
She tried to resist, to swim towards the glimmering light above. She knew this was her last chance; if this fragment of her consciousness was swallowed by the monstrous mouth, she would be utterly defeated by the Evil God.
As the proud World Tree, she would not allow herself to be vanquished by an Evil God. Nor would she ever acknowledge her as a daughter; these were things she could never accept.
Alas, these tentacles were far more terrifying than she had imagined. They effortlessly bound her limbs, dragging her towards the gaping maw, as the light of hope receded further and further from her sight…
She did not want to lose to the Evil God, but…
In the final second before she was swallowed, the smiling face of a golden-haired girl appeared before her eyes. The tinkling sound of laughter seemed to echo in her ears, and a myriad of memories flooded her mind simultaneously.
The softest part of her heart was stirred, and countless words rose to her lips, ultimately condensing into a single apology.
“I’m sorry… Nona…”
BOOM—!
The colossal maw in the sea of consciousness closed, devouring the last vestige of Isis’s awareness. Then, it plunged into the abyss, vanishing without a trace.
****
Beacai gazed down at the unconscious Isis before her, her expression cold and detached. She seemed like an indifferent bystander, devoid of any emotion.
It was only when a ring of crimson, thorny bloodstains appeared on the woman’s neck that a satisfied curve touched Beacai’s lips.
At that very moment, Isis’s consciousness awakened.
Caressing the pendant on her chest once more, Beacai watched the woman’s eyes slowly open. She smiled sweetly and asked, “Does it look good on me, Mama?”
Pushing herself up from the ground, her disheveled dress slid to one side, revealing a smooth, fragrant shoulder. Isis paused for a moment, then gently reached out to stroke Beacai’s head, replying:
“Beautiful. My daughter looks beautiful no matter what she wears.”
The light in her eyes had dimmed considerably, and the thorny bloodstains on her neck glowed an even deeper crimson. Her attitude towards Beacai was starkly different from before.
Isis had lost. She had lost to the Evil God.
Having received her mother’s praise, Beacai’s smile grew even more radiant.
“Thank you, Mama!”
The next second, to her surprise, Isis pulled her into an embrace. She whispered “Happy Birthday” into Beacai’s ear, her voice as gentle as a goodnight lullaby.
“Mama…”
Something traced a path down her cheek. Beacai reached up to wipe it away, realizing they were her own tears, and then she could no longer hold back. Clutching Isis, she leaned into her embrace and began to weep.
Gently stroking her back, Isis asked, “Why are you crying, Beacai?”
At the sound of the affectionate name, Beacai’s delicate body trembled twice. She then buried her head into Isis’s chest, murmuring, “Mama’s embrace is so warm, just like it used to be…”
“If you like it, you can always come into my arms. So, can you tell me why you’re crying?”
“It’s nothing, Mama. I just feel like I’m the happiest person in the world right now, because I finally have someone who loves me.”
Hearing this, Isis lowered her head and gently kissed Beacai’s forehead. She then pinched her cheek, smiling as she promised, “I will always love you, Beacai.”
“Mm!”
“Quickly, make a birthday wish. The candles are about to go out.”
“Okay.”
Wiping away the tears on her cheeks, the now obedient Beacai moved out of Isis’s embrace. She placed the birthday cake before her.
“Then I’ll make my wish.”
Clasping her hands together, she closed her eyes and silently articulated her wish in her heart. Fearing that the gods who listened to wishes might not hear her clearly, she repeated it several times internally before slowly opening her eyes.
She couldn’t understand why that girl dared to speak her wish aloud.
Was she not afraid it wouldn’t come true?
Carried by the evening breeze, she blew out the candles on the cake. The church plunged into even deeper gloom, with only the thorny bloodstains on Isis’s neck emitting a faint, crimson glow, illuminating the white smoke that curled into the air as the candles died.