Upon waking, Isis found herself suspended within a church.
Her hands were hoisted high by icy shackles, her feet barely brushing the ground. She attempted to struggle, but discovered that beyond the clanging of chains, she was utterly unable to break free from her bonds.
With no other recourse, she surveyed her surroundings.
The church appeared to have been abandoned for a considerable time. Most of the stained-glass windows were shattered, and a thick layer of dust coated the wooden pews in the hall, some of which lay toppled, missing their legs.
Despite the decay, she could still discern the murals adorning the church walls. A colossal tree, its branches stretching to obscure the sky, was etched there, with countless beings living beneath its canopy.
‘This was… the Church of Life?’
The Church of Life, which venerated Yggdrasil, had once flourished, serving as the wellspring of her divine power. However, after the World Tree’s demise, the Church of Life withered away, and by now, it might have completely vanished.
Had the Heretic God bound her within the Church of Life to humiliate her?
Through the broken glass panes, Isis observed that it was night, and a bone-chilling cold began to seep into her very marrow.
Heretic Gods were known as such precisely because of their wicked and twisted natures, their methods exceptionally dreadful. Though she knew not what awaited her in the clutches of such a being, she was certain it would be agonizing.
Tap—tap—tap—
Crisp footsteps echoed within the church. Realizing someone was approaching, Isis’s delicate frame trembled, causing the chains to clatter and intertwine.
Lifting her gaze slightly, she saw a woman, clad in a white divine gown, walking towards her.
Compared to the vastness of the church, the woman’s figure appeared diminutive. Her pristine white skirt swayed gently with her movements, like clouds scattered by the wind, making her seem akin to a flower swaying in the breeze.
Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silver waterfall. In her hands, she held a birthday cake adorned with lit candles, her blood-red eyes cast down, and her pale cheeks hinting at a subtle frailty.
“Mama, you’re awake?”
Approaching Isis, the woman presented the birthday cake, a captivatingly sweet smile gracing her lips.
“Would you like something to eat? I have cake here, too, but the candles are still in it. I need to make a wish before we can start.”
The woman set the cake aside, continuing to speak to herself. Upon hearing her refer to her as ‘Mama’ once more, Isis, filled with confusion, replied, “I am not your mother…”
She would never acknowledge the Heretic God before her as her child; her child was Nona.
Seeing Isis deny her identity, the woman grew visibly anxious. She took a step closer, leaning towards Isis’s face as she asked, “Don’t you remember me? It’s me, Beacai, you saved my life.”
“I had just been born and was still very weak. Those humans were already eager to hunt me down, wanting to seize my authority. If you hadn’t passed by and saved me, I might have died then.”
Beacai’s breath brushed softly against Isis’s face, carrying a strangely sweet scent. Her gem-like, brilliant eyes shimmered with delight, as if she had finally found the person she loved most.
As she spoke, Isis finally recalled the events from all those years ago.
Born from blood, Beacai had barely begun to comprehend life and death when she was besieged by a greedy human army, who sought to usurp her divine authority.
Isis had seen her pure soul, and how she resembled a pitiful little rabbit when injured. It was out of this compassion that she had rescued her from the encirclement.
Had she known Beacai would later become a Heretic God, she would never have saved her then!
“But even if I saved your life, I am not your mother.”
Beacai paid no heed to Isis’s words. She placed her hands over her chest, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back slightly, lost in memories of the past.
“I still vividly remember that day, how you held my hand and led me out of the siege. The sunlight pouring down on me felt so incredibly warm, so warm…”
“Mama, you like me, don’t you? If you didn’t, why would you have saved me back then?” Tilting her head, Beacai looked at Isis once more, her lips a vibrant red as if stained with blood.
Should her answer displease Beacai, it would likely enrage her, leading to brutal torment. Yet, despite this looming threat, Isis refused to utter such lies against her true feelings.
After all, she was Yggdrasil, once among the most powerful deities. Her pride and divinity were etched into her very soul; she simply could not bring herself to yield before a Heretic God.
The clearer her mind became, the more agonizing the pain in her chained wrists grew. She twisted her body twice, then replied with a cold voice, “That was only because you weren’t a Heretic God back then.”
Hearing her words, Beacai fell silent.
She let her smile fade, gazing at Isis quietly. The church seemed to grow colder in the silence, as a biting evening wind swept in through the broken window, chilling Isis’s delicate form and adding to the pervading frigidity.
As if her cherished intentions had been cruelly trampled, the appellation ‘Heretic God’ deeply wounded Beacai’s heart.
Though the world had always called her a Heretic God, she had never cared. She had never considered herself one, believing herself merely an ordinary deity possessing the authority of blood.
Everything she did was simply what she had to do.
She had assumed Isis understood this truth as well. Now, however, she realized Isis seemed no different from the rest of the world, viewing her as some filthy, ugly ‘Heretic God’.
‘Could she truly be a Heretic God?’
The doubt flickered and vanished from her mind. Her tightly clenched fists subtly relaxed as she stared into Isis’s eyes and asked:
“…Just because I became a Heretic God, you no longer like me? Shouldn’t the rumored World Tree, Her Eminence Yggdrasil, be the most benevolent of all deities?”
“Heretic Gods do not deserve love.”
“…So you can be biased too.”
A strange sense of relief entered her tone. Beacai moved closer to Isis, reaching out to gently caress her cheek, and chuckled softly, “But it’s alright. I am your daughter now, and even if I am a Heretic God, Mama will still love me, won’t you?”
She understood that a mother’s love was the greatest. Even if her child were a Heretic God, a mother could never bear to abandon them, instead giving them chance after chance, striving with all her might to guide them towards the right path.
She, too, yearned to experience that love.
Resting her head against Isis’s chest, she heard her strong heartbeat and felt a fervent warmth. It was a comforting heat, as if she had returned to the moment Isis had first saved her.
That golden back, holding her hand, had appeared for only a fleeting moment, yet it had remained etched in her memory ever since.
“That girl monopolized your love for so many years. I’m truly so jealous; all of that should have been mine…”