The approaching footsteps grew louder. Philomena and Lily reappeared in their sight, this time carrying several packets of tea leaves as they approached the living room table.
“We haven’t had tea in a long time, so I wasn’t sure where the tea leaves were kept. I apologize for the wait.”
Philomena, leaning on her crutch, settled onto the sofa. She then drew the teacups on the table closer to herself and began preparing tea for Isis and the other woman.
Isis gazed at the steaming tea, lost in thought, her mind wandering. Beacai, meanwhile, leaned back against the sofa with her arms crossed, remaining equally silent.
Philomena sensed the strange atmosphere between them. Yet, she asked nothing, simply preparing the tea in silence before presenting it to them.
These two were merely passing acquaintances; she had no desire to learn anything about them.
Accepting the tea, Beacai finally spoke. “Philomena, have you considered believing in the Church of Blood? They might be able to help cure your illness.”
Isis looked up at the sound of this, turning her gaze towards Philomena.
Isis was not a rigid person. If faith in the Church of Blood could cure her illness, then she hoped Philomena would abandon her current beliefs and join them.
After all, the true purpose of faith was to bring hope to living beings. If the Church of Life could not save her, then changing churches and beliefs was perfectly acceptable.
Philomena seemed to recall something, her hands unconsciously clenching. Then, she slowly spoke:
“I actually did consider it. However, the priests within the church told me they couldn’t cure my illness. To truly treat it, I would need to seek help from priests in other cities, and even then, there’s no guarantee of a solution.”
“Furthermore, the cost of treatment is a bottomless pit, far more than I could ever afford…”
Rather than spending money on treatment, she preferred to allocate it to daily necessities. At the very least, she wanted her daughter, Lily, to experience the normal life a child deserved.
The mere thought of it brought tears to Philomena’s eyes. She dared not look at her daughter beside her, fearing she would break down and cry.
Her daughter would understand why she was crying. Five-year-old Lily sometimes acted like a miniature adult, possessing a profound understanding of life and death.
The more she dwelled on these thoughts, the deeper her guilt grew. Other children her age were still playing without a care, embracing their natural innocence, while Lily was already worrying about her mother’s health and sharing her burdens.
She felt she was a truly incompetent mother.
“I see. Philomena, extend your hand. I will cure your illness,” Beacai stated.
“What? What did you say?”
Philomena clearly froze, momentarily doubting her own ears. How could someone help her with her illness, especially such a young maiden?
Just as she was about to ask what Beacai meant, Isis interrupted her. “Listen to her. Extend your hand.”
‘What does this mean? I didn’t mishear her after all? This young maiden truly intends to treat my illness?’
Philomena rubbed her temples, convinced her condition had worsened and she was hallucinating. The maiden before her was so young, and not even of the elven race; what medical qualifications could she possibly possess?
It wasn’t that she looked down on the young woman, but rather that it was simply the truth. Her illness couldn’t even be cured by the priests of the Church of Blood, so what could an ordinary maiden possibly do?
However, out of deference to them, she kept her true thoughts to herself. She hesitated, unsure whether to extend her hand, while Beacai’s patience dwindled with each passing moment.
With a small hand, Beacai wiped her face. The altered appearance she had adopted for Prelly vanished, revealing her true form: that of the Evil God Beacai.
Philomena naturally witnessed her actions. She stared blankly at Beacai’s face for a long time, finding it exceptionally familiar, yet unable to recall where she had seen it before…
It wasn’t until she saw Beacai brush a strand of silver hair aside that a deeply buried memory surged to the forefront of her mind.
“You are… you are… Your Eminence Beacai?!”
Her breath hitched. She remembered seeing the Evil God Beacai a long time ago, with that same silver hair and a pale face that always carried a hint of illness…
“Mm-hmm.” Beacai nodded.
Upon receiving the affirmative reply, Philomena’s mouth instantly went dry. After regaining her senses, she swallowed hard, scrambling off the sofa. She then painstakingly knelt on the ground, her voice trembling as she spoke:
“Phi-Philomena greets Your Eminence…”
Who was Beacai? She was the infamous Evil God, one of the few deities who had survived Ragnarök, and the true master of Prelly and the Church of Blood.
If she had a choice, she truly wished never to meet an Evil God. Most Evil Gods were capricious and temperamental; if angered, no one could survive, let alone someone like her who didn’t even worship the Church of Blood.
Lily stood nearby, biting her finger, not quite understanding her mother’s actions. She had never even heard the term ‘Your Eminence’ before.
Noticing this, Philomena rose, pulled Lily down with her, and knelt on the ground. She didn’t even dare to breathe.
Isis watched, not stopping them. Everything Beacai had done made their actions entirely justified.
“Can you extend your hand now? I will cure your illness,” Beacai continued.
“Y-yes, Your Eminence…”
Philomena rose from the ground and extended her right hand. Simultaneously, her gaze dared not meet Beacai’s, her body instinctively trembling, filled with an overwhelming dread of the Evil God.
Taking her hand, Beacai also noticed Philomena’s gaze. While she usually enjoyed the fearful looks of others, she specifically disliked it when elves were afraid of her.
‘She was clearly trying to help them, just like her mother would. So why were they still afraid? Had she done something wrong?’
She couldn’t comprehend it. All she knew was that after seeing the fear in Philomena’s eyes, a heavy, indescribable discomfort settled in her heart.
“Don’t be afraid. Your Eminence won’t harm you.”
Isis noticed Beacai’s low spirits, so she couldn’t help but reach out and grasp Philomena’s arm, softly comforting her. Yet, even when Philomena nodded and murmured ‘I understand,’ her hand continued to tremble.
Against the presence of an Evil God, her reassurances proved largely ineffectual.
Holding Philomena’s hand, a reddish aura gradually flowed from Beacai’s palm into hers. Philomena instinctively closed her eyes, allowing the essence to penetrate her body.
Nearby, Lily cautiously approached Isis, tugging at her sleeve. “Big Sister, can she really cure my mommy’s illness?” she asked, her voice filled with worry.
Whether to comfort Lily or for some other reason, Isis turned, gently pinched her little cheek, and said, “Of course. There’s nothing in this world she can’t do.”
“This Big Sister… is she really, truly that amazing?!”
“Of course. Why would I lie to you?”
“Mm-hmm, I believe Big Sister!”
Children were always easily made happy. After hearing these words, Lily smiled brightly, and seeing this, Isis let out a soft chuckle, her heart easing.
Unbeknownst to Isis, Beacai turned her head to look at her. The gloom in Beacai’s eyes transformed into surprise because of Isis’s words.