The black-robed goddess came before the witch kneeling on the ground. Struggling not to keep crying, the witch raised her head to gaze up at her faith:
"My Lord, should I leave this place?"
The deity gently placed a hand on her head:
"Now, my child, it is time to leave."
After a brief pause:
"You did very well, Los Metz. You did very, very well."
And so the witch finally lost control of her emotions. She collapsed onto the ground and burst into tears. Those sobs spoke of all the loneliness and unwillingness of the past years, expressing every fear and desolation hidden in her heart.
So much time had passed. Perhaps it truly was time to leave. Since the deity had understood and accepted her, it was time to keep moving forward.
Then she felt someone help her to her feet. Panicking, she wiped away her tears and tried to pull free from the deity's hand, but the deity remained gentle:
"Would you like to see what you look like now?"
She heard cries of surprise and voices of admiration. Turning to face her friends, the first thing she saw was Shade and the crystal mirror standing before him.
In the mirror, the tear tracks on her face had turned into sacred marks, while her long-neglected hair had woven itself into braids. A dazzling golden halo floated above her head, and pure white wings slowly unfurled from behind her.
The last angel of the Old God stared in disbelief at herself in the crystal mirror surface. Shade, who had summoned the mirror, was equally unsure whether she had turned from an obsession into an angel because of his Thaumaturgy, or because of the deity's touch.
Of course, it was more likely that both had played a part. After