Gradually, Isis’s mind became filled with thoughts of Beacai. After lingering for a while in front of the inn, lost in her longing, she knew Beacai wouldn’t appear there. Consequently, she departed, intending to seek assistance at Philomena’s home.
Philomena’s severe illness had plunged her family into poverty, leaving them with little to no spare funds. Nevertheless, Isis believed Philomena would at least possess some medicine for a common cold.
Taking the medicine might alleviate her discomfort, and she could also inquire about work. Even without it, a mere cold wouldn’t incapacitate her to the point of being bedridden.
With these thoughts, she adjusted her dress, stepped onto the street, and followed the familiar route toward Philomena’s residence.
The Prelley Festival was fast approaching, and vibrant red ribbons now adorned both sides of the street. At that moment, the lively festive atmosphere permeated the hearts of passersby.
She hadn’t walked far down the street when several caged carriages appeared in her line of sight. The numerous passersby quickly made way, and Isis, too, hastily stepped aside with them, allowing the prison carts to pass before her.
As one passed, Isis detected an indescribably foul stench. Her gaze involuntarily fixed upon the carriage.
Bound within the cages were several magical beasts. Though their appearances were fierce, they now lay listlessly inside, as if under a spell of hypnosis.
To prevent any escape, countless magical chains coiled around their bodies. Furthermore, advanced enchantments were carved into the cages, ensuring their inescapable confinement.
“What are these…?”
Seeing these prison carts for the first time, Isis felt a flicker of confusion. Beside her, a devotee from the Church of Blood, hands pressed together, offered an explanation: “These are offerings for my Lord.”
The “Lord” he referred to was, naturally, Beacai, the Goddess of Blood.
Isis, however, remained perplexed, wondering what the Prelley Festival truly entailed, to demand such ferocious magical beasts as offerings.
“Is there some recent festival in this city?”
Isis feigned ignorance as she asked, her question prompting the devotee to turn and scrutinize her for a few moments. Finally, he let out a click of his tongue and retorted, “Are you a newcomer to this divine realm? How could you not know about the grand festival of Prelley’s Divine Birth?”
“Divine Birth Festival?” Isis repeated softly.
She had only been in Prelley for little over a day; how could she possibly know of such a festival? Yet, hearing the name, she understood it was somehow connected to a birth.
The devotee didn’t dwell excessively on her identity. After all, people from all corners of the world journeyed to Prelley, a sight he had long grown accustomed to.
“The Divine Birth Festival was established to commemorate the first devotee to receive an oracle from the Goddess of Blood,” he explained. “It can also be seen as the birth celebration of the Church of Blood. As the sacred city of the Church, Prelley naturally hosts a magnificent festival. For you to arrive just in time to participate is quite fortunate.”
“I see. So these magical beasts are…”
Before Isis could finish her sentence, the devotee continued his explanation. “Precisely,” he affirmed. “They are the offerings we present to the Evil God during the celebration. No, to be precise, it is their very blood that serves as our offering to the Evil God.”
As he spoke, his face revealed an endless fervor. His tongue occasionally darted out, licking his lips, as if yearning to taste the deliciousness of the blood within these magical beasts.
“Each of these magical beasts is special,” he elaborated. “We brought them specifically from distant lands. Their blood is said to be rich and mellow, a rare delicacy. My Lord will surely adore it.”
The magical beasts in the cages seemed to have heard his words. A few, still possessing some energy, slowly lifted their eyelids, baring their fangs with a snarl.
Foul-smelling saliva oozed from between their teeth. Their wrinkled skin, dense and overlapping, was enough to send shivers down one’s spine with a single glance.
“Hmm…”
The magical beasts bared their fierce visages, attempting to deter the fervent devotees who approached. Isis, however, merely hummed in simple acknowledgment of the devotee’s words beside her.
Yet, in her estimation, Beacai was unlikely to appreciate these particular beasts.
Even Isis herself couldn’t reconcile a noble, elegant maiden with these hideous creatures. Furthermore, Beacai had only ever taken blood from her once.
The blood Beacai truly desired, Isis mused, must surely be that of other deities.
“Of course, besides the blood, we have also meticulously prepared many other gifts for my Lord,” the devotee continued. “For example, ancient inscribed relics from the deep sea, tentacles from unknown sea beasts, and books of immense age…”
Having seemingly found a rare willing listener, the devotee poured out every piece of information he knew. Their efforts to prepare these offerings, in gratitude for Beacai’s blessings, were clearly painstaking.
Upon hearing this, Isis’s brows furrowed. An inexplicable sense of disgust welled up from deep within her.
She recalled a distant past, when she was Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Her own devotees would frequently present similar offerings, often including these seemingly ancient and mysterious artifacts.
To mortals, they might have been imbued with mystery and the unknown. But to her, they were merely a pile of junk. Receiving such offerings was always a bother; she would often just toss them in a corner, completely ignoring them.
By the same logic, Beacai could not possibly appreciate such items. From the perspective of deities at their level, there was little left in this world that remained truly mysterious.
And even if there were, it would be beyond the grasp of mere mortals.
These offerings for Beacai were, in Isis’s opinion, utterly dreadful. It would be far better to present her with sweets and snacks she had never tasted before.
Still, she could comprehend the devotees’ perspective. In their eyes, Beacai, the Goddess of Blood, was a mysterious and noble entity, far too exalted to enjoy things typically favored by young girls.
Isis knew this only because the Beacai she encountered was a side the devotees had never witnessed. Before them, Beacai would never reveal such a persona.
Thus, despite having countless devotees, Beacai remained utterly alone.
“Do you offer these same things every year?” Isis inquired.
“Of course,” the devotee replied. “My Lord understands our intentions and is greatly pleased with our offerings. Every year, after receiving them, she bestows her blessings upon us, ensuring a smooth and prosperous year.”
The devotee held an unwavering belief in these offerings, convinced they could appease the Goddess of Blood and bring them prosperity.
Observing the fervent fanaticism etched on his face, Isis was overcome by an inexplicable wave of sorrow. The Beacai in her mind appeared increasingly solitary.
As a great deity who commanded blood, it seemed no one had ever truly understood Beacai. Her true preferences remained utterly unknown.
…Except for Isis herself.