In times of crisis, the gods have always chosen a daughter, much as they choose a hero. The hero goes around defeating the enemies of the world. From goblins to even the Demon Lord, no threats ever remain. By contrast, the Holy Maiden heals the sick and gives them hope with the words of the gods. In this era, that duty falls to me.

It’s not a job that I asked for, and while it’s not always the best, it’s never thankless. The joy on the faces of children after healing their parents, lovers reunited after battle, and the hope that brightens their faces when I speak of the exploits our hero never fail to make me feel proud of my job. So here I am, day after day, for the masses.

Some days I feel a bit sad, watching them. I have friends, here at the church, but considering my status they’re rarely, if ever, not formal with me. The hero is of course, always cheerful, and I can’t say we aren’t good friends, but he’s often off somewhere. Do I feel lonely? I’m not sure, honestly, but this is something I need to do, isn’t it?

Other people of our church may refuse to treat or have anything to do with those of the slums. However, I can’t bring myself to ignore someone in dire need of healing. I clasp my hands above the suffering woman in front of me. Ragged and torn, her cotton dress is filthy, the black muck of the abandoned part of our city had stained the fabric in a blotched mess. Her child, a young boy, didn’t look much better.

His face was sunken and his eyes were red. I already knew their story, it was a common one. War with the western empire had long been a curse. The child’s father was probably long gone, but that only meant one thing to me. I couldn’t let him lose his mother too.

I tightened my grip on my own hands and closed my eyes. My lips parted as I began to pray.

“Lord of the morning dew, the source of our light, may the god Aius answer this prayer. Lady of the forests, she of new life and beginnings, may our goddess Iara answer this prayer. Oh divine ones, grant your child this miracle. I beseech your aid, let the warmth of the deities embrace this soul,” I emptied my mind of all thoughts except for my hope for this poor boy’s mother. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder as a much softer one held my cheek.

I opened my eyes to the gobsmacked face of the boy. His tears had stopped and a green light had encased the woman. I felt a smile on my lips as bruises, sores, and the festering wound on her arm began to disappear.

“I give my thanks to the gods,” I kept my hands clasped and bowed my head.

The little boy copied me beside his mother, though his eyes never left his mother. Her labored breathing relaxed as her eyes opened.

“Allan?” her soft voice asked as the child burst into tears of relief. I stepped away from the bed and bowed.

“A priest shall be in shortly to give you a check up. Please be sure to take the food I’ll have prepared for you from him before you leave,” the woman looked towards me. Her eyes were wet.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I am merely a servant of the gods, they are the ones who healed you,” I answer softly as I step out of the room. An empty sense of pride fills my heart as I walk back towards the prayer hall. This pride isn’t something I should feel, as empty as it is. I’m not doing anything except pray to the gods. These deeds aren’t something I should be credited for.

As I walked back into the prayer hall, I was greeted with a foreign sight. Amidst the priests milling about, standing before the statue of the Unnamed God, was a tall somber looking man. His deep black hair stands out first, especially amongst the other priests and priestesses, all with hair a shade of brown or blonde. As I looked towards him, I noted a small smile of sorts on his face as he gazed up towards the statue.

He turned, the cloak draped on his shoulders shifting along with him and revealed clothes I had only seen amongst the nobility. They’re far too clean, the colors far too strong, for a commoner of any sort. My gaze turns to the god’s statue, curious about what drew him so. I had seen it many times before, but never looked at the statue for long, as I was not in service of whoever he may be. In fact, none of us in the church were.

As I drew closer the man turns toward me, and I realize with a start his eyes are crimson. “Daughter of the Gods,” his deep voice said, “Hello.”

“Welcome to the Church, sir,” I answered and clasped my hands in front of me. “What service do you seek from the Gods, today?”

The man laughed, “I’m afraid your services aren’t what I’m here for.”

I realized with a start that his eyes had begun to glow. The crimson light felt piercing.

“I’m here for you,” the cloak rippled and fell to his feet, stretching unnaturally as it hit the ground. The black cloth turned into shadows darker than ink. I tried to back away but discovered I couldn’t move. When I looked toward my feet, my legs had already been wrapped in shadow. Panic quickly rose into my throat as it dawned on me who this man was.

Dark black horns adorned the sides of his head when I looked back towards him and pointed ears had sprung forth from his hair.

The Demon Lord.

Shadows swirled beneath my feet and rose up rapidly to my face as the terror had set in. When my vision finally began to fail, I saw a smile.

That, was an image I’d never get out of my head. Why had he smiled like that?

My vision returned to me only moments later. Iron bars amidst a dark dungeon were in front of me, soft candelight flickering and sending shadows across the floor. However, what caught my attention and confused me more in that moment than even the Demon Lord had…

A girl.

She stood around my height and looked to be around my age but, much like the man who had sent me here, she had sharply pointed ears and two horns on the sides of her head. I blinked in wonder for a moment.

Her lips were curved in a bright smile, “You’re much prettier than I remembered! So much prettier, my memories didn’t do you any justice.”

“I… um… thank you?”

“Oh that voice,” her eyes closed, “I love hearing it so much!”

“…Thank you? Who are you?” the whole situation had gone from terrifying to bewildering in a heart beat.

The girl frowned, looking sad, “You don’t remember me? I guess that’s far, I was quite a bit smaller and disguised. I’m Orlyn, daughter of the Demon Lord.”

“Oh…”

“Yup!” she answered in a chipper voice, that vibrant smile returning. “Sorry for having my dad drag you here all of a sudden, but you see…”

Does this mean I’m going to die? Did the Demon Lord send me here as some sort of right of passage for his daughter? A sacrifice to cement her future? I’m not sure I can see this girl killing me though, she’s far too…

“I saw you a few years ago when my dad took my on a trip to the neighboring country. When I did, something about you caught my eye, so he took me to the Church to visit the Daughter of the Gods,” she started, “Course, this is probably really weird to you, but when I saw you so close, I just couldn’t get you out of my head. I asked every priest about you, to dad’s irritation, and he had to drag me back home. Ever since I’ve begged him to tell anything he’s heard about you.”

“I… see…” What in the world is she going on about? Is she a fan of mine? Even if she is, it’s a bit much to drag me all the way to the demon capital. I have prayers, sermons, and speeches I have to make every day, does she not realize I have a duty to the gods?

“It’s probably a lot to have him just, drop you off here, but I couldn’t go any longer without saying this. For awhile, I thought I was just obsessed, but as I grew older, you never left my mind. Just remembering you made me feel happy, so I decided to say this and begged my dad for weeks. Holy Maiden Auna,” she bit her lip and looked away from me.

Red lips parted as she sighed and clenched her fingers into a fist.

“I love you. I love your voice. I love your dedication to the people you help save. I love how you spend everyday making sure the love of the gods is spread. I love how warm they say your heart is. I love it all. I love you.”

“You… love me? But I’m just a servant of the gods, all I do is prayer,” I answered softly, a deep sense of confusion sending my thoughts spiraling.

“I don’t think that’s all, though,” she answered with a smile, “Servant of the gods or not, I think you’d be the same person. The gods chose you, not because of fate, but because you have the heart for it. My dad tells me all the time that the hero was chosen for dedication to justice, but the holy maiden has always been chosen for her soul.”

“Why are you telling me this? All you have are stories, you haven’t met me, have you?”

“I did, once. A year after my first visit, I got really sick. Dad couldn’t cure me, none of the people of our country could either, so he brought me to you. I doubt you remember, you seemed busy even then. But you were terribly kind to me, you reassured me as I laid on that bed. You told me the gods loved me. You prayed, with all your heart for a miracle, and when the gods granted it, I saw your face. You smiled oh so brightly amidst their light,” she laughed, “And you even placated me when I drilled you with questions.”

“Did I?” I muttered, I saw so many people every day. So many sick children, so many wounded. I couldn’t remember faces, so it was possible…

The girl, Orlyn, nodded. “Despite that, as I left I saw your face, You looked so lost, and so tired. It almost broke my heart. That’s when I started asking my dad about you all the time.”

“I did?” I felt as though I was broken music box, twinkling the same tune over and over, but what else could I say? This girl had brought me all the way out here to tell me she loved me, and she had reasons too. But, the situation was reaching the point of absurdity.

“You’re free to go back,” she looked into my eyes and smiled, “I’d be sad, but all I wanted to do was tell you.”

That was it? “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Oh…” I looked back into her eyes and, slowly, the image of a young girl who had gone from death’s door to a bright eyed and curious bundle of energy flickered through my mind. I stared silently into her eyes for a few moments, basking in wonder as a feeling of warmth, like that which I felt from the gods but without that bright light and feeling of support, hit me.

“I can visit, I know you can’t accept love offered from some random girl right off the bat,” she said hesitantly, shuffling her feet nervously, “I get it if you don’t want me to, of course, but I’m sure my dad would let me.”

The Demon Lord’s daughter, visiting me, the holy maiden…

“I think,” I said slowly, “I might like that.”

“Really?”

“Please.”