“Of course, even though we now reside in Prey, we cannot allow the Church of Life to be devoid of future believers.”
Philomena found herself perplexed by Isis’s surprise. Imparting the doctrines of life was, in her view, an entirely natural act. Even if the Mother Goddess had fallen silent, they should never forsake their faith.
They ought to hold unwavering conviction that the great Mother Goddess would one day awaken. When that time arrived, all their sorrows would transform into joy, and everything would once again be as perfect as it once was.
“May I inquire what brings you to me, Miss Isis?”
At the mention of it, Isis rested her hands upon her lap, her index finger and thumb discreetly intertwining. A touch of embarrassment colored her voice as she replied, “I was hoping to inquire if you might have any medicine for a cold here…”
Her current agony stemmed from her inability to afford medicine. She could only place her hopes in Philomena, fervently wishing she had some cold remedies stocked within her home.
Fortunately, Philomena did possess such a remedy.
Philomena observed Isis, noting the sickly flush that bloomed across her cheeks. It confirmed her suspicion: Isis had indeed caught a cold, for even her emerald eyes were now veiled by a misty haze.
‘Where had Lady Beacai gone?’ Philomena wondered. ‘Shouldn’t she be accompanying her at a time like this?’
Pondering this mystery, Philomena asked, “Yes, I do have some, but aren’t you supposed to be with Lady Beacai? For a mere cold, surely she could cure it with a flick of her wrist?”
“She had to return to the temple for an urgent matter. I am currently alone in Prey.”
“So that’s how it is…”
‘Lady Beacai is absent, but can Isis truly not manage her own illness without her?’
A wave of pity washed over Philomena. She refrained from pressing the matter further, rising instead to approach the living room cabinet. There, she pulled open a drawer and retrieved a box containing the remedy.
Returning to the sofa, she handed it to Isis.
“This is the medicine for colds. Simply drink it, and you should experience significant improvement.”
“Thank you.”
Extracting the glass vial that held the medicinal liquid, Isis uncapped it and took a delicate sniff. Immediately, a pungent, herbal aroma surged into her nasal passages.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She raised the vial and, with a swift motion, drained its contents in a single gulp.
Almost instantly, as she lowered the empty vial, the cool liquid coursed down her throat and settled into her lower abdomen. An inexplicable chill that had permeated her body was swiftly banished by a surge of warmth, and her tremors finally ceased.
The dizziness in her head gradually receded. Soon after consuming the remedy, she felt considerably more comfortable than she had moments before.
“Thank you, I feel much better…”
Observing Isis’s spirits lift slightly, Philomena hesitated, her expression suggesting words longed to be spoken yet were held back. Only after Isis offered an encouraging nod did Philomena finally voice her thoughts.
“Miss Isis, though I fear this might be presumptuous, I have long harbored a question for you. How did you come to know Lady Beacai? Your relationship appears so remarkably close; are you truly unaware that many consider her an evil god?”
‘How did we meet?’
‘She forcibly abducted me, compelling me to be her mother. That’s precisely how we met.’
While that was the unvarnished truth, she simply couldn’t utter it in Philomena’s presence.
Philomena already harbored a deep fear of Beacai. If Isis were to reveal such a truth, Beacai’s image in Philomena’s mind would likely plummet even further.
And besides…
“Is our relationship truly considered ‘good’?”
While Isis and Beacai hadn’t experienced any significant conflicts recently, it had never occurred to her that their dynamic would be perceived as a ‘very good relationship’ by outsiders.
‘They are clearly unrelated, aren’t they? They barely exchange a few words, even when seated side-by-side.’
Observing Isis’s bewildered expression, Philomena nodded, effectively shattering her illusions.
“Indeed, even Lily can discern the excellent rapport between you two. And to possess the ability to make Lady Beacai so compliantly obedient, Miss Isis, just who exactly are you?”
As if Philomena had firmly concluded that Isis was an elf of no ordinary stature, her tone softened with deference, and her posture grew noticeably more dignified.
Noticing this, Isis waved a dismissive hand. “I am merely an ordinary elf, devoid of magic, Philomena. There’s no need to ponder such things so deeply.”
Despite Isis’s words, Philomena’s conviction remained unshaken. She pressed on relentlessly, “The very breath of respite we elves are afforded under Her Ladyship’s dominion is, I believe, owed to you, Miss Isis.”
“It must be because Lady Beacai holds affection for you that she considers your sentiments, thereby treating our elven kin with kindness. Surely, all of this is your commendable influence.”
The more Philomena pondered, the more convinced she became of this truth, and her eyes began to brim with fervent admiration.
Isis was the sole elf granted access to Lady Beacai. Without her, Philomena simply could not fathom why Lady Beacai would display such benevolence toward their kind.
“What utter nonsense are you spouting, Philomena…”
“Other evil gods are known to sell elves into slavery. Only Lady Beacai treats our kind with benevolence, even granting us permission to reside here. There must, unequivocally, be a profound reason for such an extraordinary choice.”
Rising from the sofa, Philomena approached Isis. As she did, her eyes narrowed perceptively, as though she had seen through every veil of deception.
“And that reason, Miss Isis, is undeniably you. She extends her kindness to elves *because* of you. Am I not correct? There’s no use denying it any longer.”
Averting Philomena’s intense gaze, Isis murmured softly, “Do not overthink it, Philomena. Who among us can truly fathom the depths of Beacai’s mind?”
“Beacai? You address Her Ladyship with such intimacy! Surely, your private relationship with her must be even more profound? We are all elves, and our gratitude knows no bounds. Please, share the truth with us.”
Isis’s breath hitched, and the hand resting on her thigh clenched tightly into her skirt hem.
‘How could merely uttering the name ‘Beacai’ be perceived as intimate?’
‘It is merely a name. Am I truly expected to address her as ‘Her Ladyship’ with the same deference as Philomena? Our relationship is certainly not one of deity and devout worshipper.’
‘Moreover, Philomena is remarkably stubborn. Once she’s set her mind on something, no amount of persuasion will sway her. If she were to persist with her questions and discover that Beacai had coerced me into motherhood, the consequences would be dire.’
Before these elves, she absolutely had to uphold her noble and elegant divine persona, even though they remained oblivious to her true identity.
Thus, Isis massaged her temples, feigning a look of distress, and deftly steered the conversation away.
“You are indeed overthinking, Philomena. My primary reason for coming here was also to inquire if you know of any temporary work that requires no magic, ideally something where I could earn twenty silver coins within two or three days…”
She deliberately shifted the topic to her job search. Philomena, discerning Isis’s reluctance to continue the previous discussion, also fell silent, beginning to ponder carefully if such employment could be found in Prey.
‘No magic’ implied work that wasn’t overly strenuous. ‘Twenty silver coins within two or three days’ denoted employment with swift remuneration. Combining these two criteria…
Even Isis herself felt a pang of sacrilege at the thought. Any work she could conceive of that met both conditions tended to be rather disreputable, almost perfectly aligning with the wicked tattoo now etched upon her lower abdomen.
Her delicate features flushed a faint crimson, and a profound vexation settled within her.
‘The former me would never have entertained such thoughts! It’s all the fault of that wretched Beacai, who has utterly defiled my soul!’