How much time had passed, Isis couldn’t say. When she opened her eyes, her vision was filled with a canopy of verdant leaves and ancient, sturdy tree trunks.
Bright sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, dappling the grass below like scattered starlight. She pushed herself up and looked around, her expression one of utter confusion.
It appeared to be a forest, lush and verdant. A gentle breeze swept by, sending waves rippling through the grass, like a lullaby hummed before sleep that might mesmerize any passing traveler.
‘A forest?’ she wondered. ‘Why… why am I here?’
Isis rubbed her head, only to find that her memory stopped the moment she was thrown into the pool of blood. She couldn’t recall anything after that.
She should have died, but she was still alive. It had to be the evil god Beacai, who must have used some wicked divine art to save her soul as it was about to dissipate.
Such an art would surely come at a price. As the recipient of the spell, she must have undergone some kind of change.
She looked down at her dress and felt her body. The dress was the same elaborate white one she had worn before, yet it hadn’t been stained red by the blood pool. Her body felt largely unchanged, except… did her chest feel a little fuller than before?
With this question in mind, her hands moved to her ears. She froze.
…Long ears?
Realization dawned. She hastily scanned her surroundings and spotted a small stream flowing through the woods. Gathering her skirts, she ran towards it.
She knelt, leaning over the bank to look at her reflection in the water.
A few strands of golden hair trailed in the stream. The eyes staring back from the reflection were sacred and aloof, possessing an otherworldly coldness and pride. Her face was flawless, perfect beyond reproach, inspiring an awe that forbade any profane thought.
And on either side of her fair, rosy cheeks were the long ears unique to elves.
Touching her own ears, Isis was stunned.
The reflection in the stream was that of Yggdrasil, the World Tree—her appearance back when she was still a goddess…
How could this be? Was this the change that came with her survival?
After a period of silence, she rose from the stream’s edge and began to wander aimlessly through the forest. Yet, she had the nagging feeling—perhaps a delusion—that the forest around her was fading.
Like ash scattering into the air after a fire, the woods seemed to be dissipating. Having never witnessed such a phenomenon, a few theories began to form in Isis’s mind.
The forest wasn’t large. Soon, she reached its edge, and the sight that met her eyes made her expression turn grave.
The end of the forest was not a cliff, nor a wilderness or a city. It was a boundless, blood-soaked land. There was no warm sunlight or gentle breeze there—only dark red clouds and a churning sea of blood.
The boundary between the blood-soaked land and the verdant forest was a perfectly straight line, as if drawn by an unseen hand, separating the two realms.
Standing at the edge of the green woods, Isis glanced at the border and suddenly noticed the scent of blood stealthily encroaching upon the forest. Many of the green blades of grass were already stained with an ominous red, causing them to wilt.
Seeing this, she closed her eyes.
Without any discernible movement, the blades of grass slowly straightened once more. The red stains quietly faded, and the encroaching scent of blood soon vanished with them.
Opening her eyes, Isis understood.
This place was not reality. It was her soul space. The green forest represented her, and the blood-soaked land was…
Without any warning, Beacai appeared before her, clad in a red dress.
In this soul space, Beacai was even more bewitching than in reality. Her complexion was a sickly white, her lips a startling crimson. Her blood-colored divine gown trailed along the ground, exuding an air of noble extravagance and deep allure.
“What are you planning to do?” Isis asked.
From the moment she knew this was her soul space, she understood that her soul was still dissipating. Beacai had not yet performed the divine art to save her.
The current moment was likely not long after she had sunk to the bottom of the blood pool.
In response to her question, Beacai let out a soft laugh. She extended her right hand toward Isis.
“I want to save you, Mother. As long as we link our souls, you won’t disappear. From this day forward, we will share a life, and each of us will be the most important person in the other’s existence.”
Isis looked at her hand, recalling the scene of the bloody aura invading the forest. She unconsciously took a step back.
“If I agree, you’ll just corrupt my soul, won’t you…”
The blood-soaked land was Beacai’s soul space, and its aura could encroach upon the forest. This meant Beacai’s soul could corrupt hers.
If their souls were linked, she feared she would be molded into the shape of the evil god Beacai.
Moreover, an evil god’s nature was hard to change. Whether things would truly be as she claimed after their souls were linked was a complete unknown.
Beacai knew Isis didn’t trust her, so she explained with a smile.
“How could I ever lie to you? Invading your soul is simply the price of linking them. Besides, this is all just my aura. If you can’t resist the corruption, Mother, that’s fine too. Falling into depravity as an evil god isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
As she spoke the last sentence, the curve of her lips widened uncontrollably. It was as if she would be overjoyed to see Isis fall, for then they might finally be one and the same.
It was so unlike the present, where the verdant forest was filled with an aura of sanctity and nature that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
“But as long as I refuse, you have no way to link our souls, correct?”
Isis remembered Beacai saying that while she had lost her divine power, her soul was still that of a god. Beacai could not alter the memories within her soul.
If she couldn’t even alter her memories, then she surely couldn’t force a soul link—not unless Isis herself was willing.
Having figured this out, Isis turned to leave, unwilling to listen to another word. No matter what Beacai said, she would never agree to a soul link.
“Is there nothing in this world worth staying for, Mother? The flowers that bloom in spring, delicious and tempting desserts, the little animals in the forest who adore you… don’t you love them?”
“They will be just fine without me.”
Beacai tried to persuade her, but Isis merely left her with those words and continued walking away. Beacai’s brow furrowed slightly. After a moment of thought, she spoke again.
“And what about the elves? After you disappeared, they were forced to abandon their faith. They became displaced, and many were even enslaved, sold openly in the markets. Can you truly bear to see all of this?”
At these words, Isis’s steps faltered. Seeing her words had an effect, Beacai pressed on. “You are the World Tree, after all. Their most revered and trusted Mother God. You can’t just abandon them like this, can you?”
The retreating figure came to a complete stop. She did not turn around, but her fists clenched silently at her sides, seemingly lost in conflict.
Beacai fell silent, crossing her arms as she quietly awaited Isis’s decision.
Time ticked by, second by second. A few leaves drifted down, landing in Isis’s golden hair, lending her silhouette a certain melancholic beauty.
Beacai had been sure she would agree, but to her disappointment, Isis’s clenched hand moved to lift her skirt, and she raised her foot to continue deeper into the forest.
At this, Beacai’s eyes narrowed. A bloodthirsty glimmer coiled around her outstretched fingers, and her voice turned cold.
“Mother, even if you won’t think of the elves, you should at least… think of Nona, shouldn’t you?”