Miracle

As one of the two oldest primordial goddesses in the Realms, the Silver Mother had followers across the continent. The eternal war that began at creation still raged, and she had lost most of her divine portfolios in battle with her twin sister, the Lady of the Night. Her power had declined so far that she had once been forced to seek another Deity's protection and serve as a subordinate. Yet her influence had never faded. Her followers were neither the strongest nor the most numerous in the Realms, but they remained a force to be reckoned with.

Aaron followed the young priestess. His steps were still unsteady, and his body was in poor shape.

The large open-air sanctuary in Seabury was the Church of the Silver Mother's center of worship in this country. As they left the infirmary, Aaron saw more people.

Beneath the bright sky, among leafy trees and beside a clear pond, the Silver Mother's paladin guards and priests were treating several injured Beastfolk adventurers. One adventurer had a pair of furry cat ears and round cat paws for hands. She held her head while a female paladin treated her.

A cat-eared girl! Aaron could not help looking twice.

So cute.

Lycanthropy was a terrifying infectious disease in the Realms. It gradually turned those it afflicted into lycanthropes ruled by hunger and bloodlust, and it was almost impossible to cure. Their only hope lay in the Silver Mother's salvation. Nearly all good and neutral lycanthropes worshipped her, while most evil ones followed Malar, the Beastlord.

The young priestess leading the way noticed Aaron looking. She slowed and asked sternly, "What are you thinking?"

"Huh?" Aaron froze for a moment, then realized she had misunderstood him.

Am I really that awful?

"You never used to give them a second glance." The young priestess turned, her silver-trimmed robe dancing around her. Her thick ponytail swung, carrying the scent of bellflowers. "Humans don't welcome them. Humans see them as cursed. Isn't that right?"

"You're right." Aaron nodded slightly and looked toward the guards near the sanctuary entrance. "I was just wondering what justice really means. The lycanthropes you're treating are no different from those who brought countless disasters upon the kingdom, even the whole Realms. I ought to hate them, but all I can think is that they're cute."

"That shows humans are sentimental creatures who judge others by appearance. It also shows that surviving a brush with death has helped even a nobleman like you grow." The young priestess studied him from behind her veil. Aaron felt both familiar and strange to her.

"Hey, aren't half-elves the ones who care most about looks?" Aaron shot back. "Suzail's laws say anyone who meets the requirements can enter the city. But I've seen your half-elf communities turn away people just because they were ugly or short!"

"They are half-elves! I am Eleanor!" The young priestess reacted as if pricked by a needle. "Don't lump me in with them!"

"Right. You aren't a half-elf; you're Eleanor," Aaron said calmly. "And I'm Aaron. I'm human, and I'm a Viscount. Correct?"

"...I'm sorry. I was stereotyping you." A flush spread across Eleanor's delicate face, and her voice softened. "I apologize."

"I accept." Aaron had no desire to argue. He just wanted to hurry.

Otherwise, he would end up like that ogre Gulk, only bigger.

Questions stirred in Eleanor's mind.

The man before her did not quite seem like the Aaron Sallian she remembered. They had met many times. Every year, Aaron came with his family for the Silver Mother's festivals. Eleanor had always seen him as an ordinary young nobleman: cautious and composed, with no small measure of aristocratic pride. He considered himself above others, though his good upbringing and the restraints placed on him made him careful to hide it.

The Beastfolk were one example. When Aaron had visited during past festivals, Eleanor could tell he feared catching their curse and always kept his distance. Yet he made a show of friendliness and claimed not to discriminate, shaking their hands while wearing gloves and even bringing them gifts.

The priests and paladins had a private joke: the last Viscount Sallian's greatest virtue was that he had no real flaws, and his greatest flaw was that he had no real virtues.

Eleanor had thought the same until today.

"You saved my life, Miss Eleanor. I'm the one who should be thanking you." Aaron spoke earnestly. "I swear before the Silver Mother that I will repay this debt."

"If we saved lives only to demand payment, how would we be any different from the Lady of the Night's scheming followers?" Eleanor shook her head. "True goodness must not depend on a reward. If you help someone in the hope of gaining something, perhaps the Silver Mother isn't the deity for you."

"I've learned something." Aaron considered her words for a few seconds, then gave her a respectful nobleman's salute. "Thank you, Miss Eleanor."

Was this really Aaron Sallian? The young priestess could not help giving him another look.

Perhaps she had misjudged him. There was more beneath the surface than she had seen before.

Thinking of his family history, the young priestess sighed softly.

Neither of them spoke again.

Aaron turned his attention to the sanctuary.

Selûne was a chaotic good goddess. Unlike deities of order, she had almost no requirements for her temples. One might be nothing more than a few stones marking out a patch of wilderness, with a silver-moon shrine at its center. Another might be a magnificent hall. She did not care.

Only a rippling pond and a garden that reflected her radiance in the moonlight were indispensable.

As Aaron approached the heart of the open-air sanctuary, he felt the Silver Mother's divine power fill every corner. Even by day, the buildings were veiled in moonlight. Looking closer, he saw it flowing in waves along the temple walls, where carvings depicted the war between the Silver Mother and the Lady of the Night. From creation to the present, their struggle had never ceased.

Most of the people coming and going were women, from girls of seven or eight to gray-haired old women. Unlike some deities, the Silver Mother imposed few rules on how her followers dressed. A noblewoman might wear fine clothes, costly jewels on her head and hands, and a crown of flowers. Beside her might stand an old woman in a plain brown linen robe, so simply dressed she looked poor, carrying a basin of water with sweat beading on her brow.

Eleanor led Aaron to the center of the temple. A six-meter statue of the Silver Mother stood there, holding a silver moon in both hands and gazing sorrowfully down upon all living things. Eleanor told Aaron to wait while she went inside to announce him.

Aaron stayed where he was.

Temples were dangerous places in the Realms. They often served as both fortresses and refuges. A deity's power clung to their shrines, statues, sacred objects, books, murals, and other symbols. So long as that power remained, a temple would not fall easily.

That was why temples were often the last battleground in a siege.

He felt as though the moonlight had noticed him. Its flowing glow gradually gathered around him.

"Salian, what aid do you seek from the great Silver Mother?"

A richly dressed woman stepped out of the temple. She had a full figure and wore an opulent silk gown. Jewelry covered her hands, pearls adorned her cuffs and collar, and high-heeled deerskin boots covered her feet. Two silver chains swayed with her steps. Grapevines and moons were embroidered on her gown, and an exquisite lunar crown held her long hair in an elegant style.

What caught Aaron's attention, of course, was the gown's low neckline.

Her child could probably nurse until at least a year and a half.

She was Lady Silverstar, the sanctuary's high priestess.

Aaron could not help looking twice. He cleared his throat and spoke humbly. "Yes. I've run into trouble, and I must ask for the Silver Mother's grace. Only she can save me."

Surprise crossed Lady Silverstar's face. Moonlight glimmered in her eyes as she studied him. "Not even Regenerate can help?"

Lady Silverstar was a master-ranked priest and nearly a legend.

If she wished, she could heal far more than a wound. Even if someone had only a head left, she could restore the whole person, provided they were not quite dead.

"I don't know. I was struck by a spell that devastated my body and soul." Aaron pleaded sincerely. "Its energy is still inside me."

Lady Silverstar's eyes widened. Disbelief filled her fair face. "And you're still alive?!"

Aaron nodded awkwardly. "I don't know how I survived. I was hit by a spell cast by that Warlock's Great Old Ones Patron."

Regenerate did have limits. If a lingering curse, persistent magic that could not be dispelled, or some other negative energy remained in the injured person, it could restore the body, but the harmful effect would continue.

"You're a remarkably lucky young man, last of the Sallians." Lady Silverstar still looked astonished. She had truly never seen anything like it.

Such lingering curses were all high-circle magic or Divine Magic. Even she could not be certain she would survive one. Yet this Viscount had only the strength of a first-rank apprentice. Somehow, he was alive, moving, and talking.

Silver Mother above. It's a miracle!

Eleanor, standing nearby, was just as surprised. She opened her mouth, then said nothing.

She trusted the great Silver Mother to judge fairly.

Lady Silverstar held back the refusal on her lips. She placed a hand on Aaron's head, and sacred moonlight enveloped him as he knelt on one knee. "Yes. There is negative energy inside you, eating away at you."

But she made no further move. She simply fell silent.

"Papa, if the Deity doesn't live among mortals, why do they need temples?

Silly child. Temples are where the Deity do business with mortals."

—A joke from the Realms

The joke neatly explained the relationship between mortals and gods, and the role temples played in it.

Regenerate was a seventh-circle Divine Magic spell and the strongest Lady Silverstar could cast herself. Using it would place a tremendous burden on her. She would pay a steep price and remain weak for a long time.

If even Regenerate could not cure the young man, only one option remained: use the divine power stored in the sanctuary to cast the Ninth-Circle Miracle and ask the Silver Mother, Selûne, for help.

That would consume divine power the sanctuary had accumulated over decades, perhaps a century. For this young man, she would spend everything built up through all her years as high priestess.

No sum of money could truly measure the cost.

Aaron sensed her hesitation. "Lady Silverstar! I'm willing to pay. I simply don't have that much money on hand. I can only swear that I'll repay the Silver Mother for everything she does for me. I can sell my mansion in Suzail. I'm Viscount Sallian, and the royal family gives me an annual stipend of eight hundred gold lions. I can donate five hundred... no, six hundred to the church!"

He spoke with absolute resolve. He understood his position. When Lady Silverstar still hesitated, he gritted his teeth and went on. "I also have heirlooms my parents left me: antiques, keepsakes, weapons, jewelry. Give me time to sell them, and I will repay you!"

"It isn't enough." Lady Silverstar shook her head slightly. His determination stirred memories in her eyes.

Aaron went pale. He took several deep breaths, thought for a moment, then tried again. "The Sallian Lineage has honored the Silver Mother for generations. Since our ancestor Lyondolf, the Lineage has endured for seven hundred years..."

"I remember when you came here for the festivals as a child, following Manuel." Lady Silverstar interrupted him. Nostalgia softened her face. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. It wasn't fair."

"Life is unpredictable. When disaster strikes without warning, all we can do is accept it." Aaron seemed disappointed. He spread his hands and started to rise. "In that case, I'm sorry to have troubled you."

I'll have to try my luck somewhere else.

Was that it, then?

"Come with me." Lady Silverstar beckoned.

"Casting Miracle takes a long time to prepare. Whether the Silver Mother helps you is up to her. All I can do is wish you luck, last of the Sallians."

"Ah... yes!" Aaron nodded, still dejected. Then uncontrollable joy spread across his face.

He had won himself a chance.

His one chance to escape this!

In a private chamber within the sanctuary, Aaron removed all his clothes and sat naked and cross-legged at its center.

As Lady Silverstar chanted, murals on all four walls began to shine with silvery moonlight. Four statues of the goddess lit up together. In the flowing light, they seemed to come alive, reflecting pure white moonbeams onto Aaron from four directions.

A cool, soothing feeling rose within him. He felt as though he had entered an illusory space. A rich, milky scent filled his nose. He opened his arms to show that he meant no harm.

A presence accepted him.

Aaron felt his soul rise along a path of moonlight. His body grew lighter and lighter. He seemed to return to the days when he was an infant learning to speak. He tried to talk, but only indistinct baby sounds came from his mouth. Gentle hands gathered him into an embrace. Through the haze, he glimpsed a loving woman gazing at him with tender eyes.

He kept rising until the moon was right before him, and then he landed upon it.

In the moonlight, a slender beauty stood between two sacred white trees.

"Welcome, my child."

She faced Aaron and opened her arms. Long, translucent silver sleeves drifted down to the ground. Maternal warmth surrounded her, gentle as water.

"I hear you need my help, my child. What troubles you? Tell me, and I'll help you solve it."

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(The end of this chapter)