Min Shin, the faithful, yet unworthy servant of the Viridian High Lady, had failed, once again, in his quest to earn the favour of his goddess. 

 

He had tried. 

 

Sacrifices needed to be made, but it had been his trial of faith and he had not faltered, yet as many times before, nothing he had done was enough. 

 

Though it was through his effort that the goddess manifested in the mortal world in a much more pleasing shape. The priest did not deserve to gaze upon her peerless beauty, and was punished harshly for his insolence to witness her majesty in the flesh.

 

She was gorgeous, her new body no longer resembling the serpentine form immortalized in the chiselled wood and carved stone of her earthly temples, but possessing a charm that stoked Shin’s soul like nothing else in the mortal realms. 

 

When she had come out, reborn from the dark magic of the Evil Spirit, and the devotion of her - possibly last - priest, Min Shin couldn’t help but stare at her magnificence.  

 

He had been smote with fire and fury into agony and darkness.

 

It hurt, like nothing had hurt before.

 

The pain was absolute, and the flame, albeit brief, was the very incarnation of suffering, a harsh, strict sentence for the servant that had failed his goddess’ trial.

 

The torment had passed, in time, though the way it did defied his comprehension, as it must have been the Evil Spirits themselves who took mercy upon him. 

 

The burns he thought fatal were healed and washed away by the powers he did not understand, but his eyes … 

 

…his eyes were gone. 

 

Destroyed, burned out by the holy fury of the goddess. 

 

He tried to touch the wounds. It confirmed the worst. 

 

A fitting punishment for looking upon the hallowed, one that had been forbidden to the mortal eyes - blindness. He would have cried, but the capacity for that, too, was burned away. 

 

Now, the only thing he could do was stare into the black nothingness, where every whisper, every rustle, every creak of wood filled him with terror, and led to a frenzied attempt to locate the source of the sound.

 

The only thing he could do was ask who or what was there, rarely getting an answer.

 

Many times it was just the wind, or a figment of his imagination, slowly driving him mad from the uncertainty.

 

The despair he had felt was nearly absolute. 

 

Not only had he failed in proving himself, now he was helpless, and the actual monsters in the shadows were, in the cruelest twist of fate, the least of his problems.

 

The Spirits had no intention of killing him, and let him wallow in self-pity. 

 

His body might not be broken, not yet, but his mind was close to shattering like the expensive porcelain from a noble’s table. Worse yet, he had been cast away to be forgotten, and was at the mercy of people he did not know. 

 

What would he do? 

 

He did not know. 

 

With his sight gone, Shin struggled to even feed himself, his movements clumsy and uncertain. He could barely feed himself, let alone leave and travel the countryside to… 

 

To what? 

 

Now, after what he believed was a full day trapped in unseeing nothingness, his fear was replaced with contemplation, resignation, and, strangely enough, curiosity, for Min Shin wasn’t alone in the darkness. So, he listened. 

 

The voices that used to haunt him were still there.

 

Not the speech of the local fishers, talking in their odd little accent, but the unceasing torrent of whispers inside his skull that still kept him company, continuing an ethereal conversation in their strange language, heedless of Shin’s plight.

 

He tried to ask the villagers, those that tried to give him water, if they heard them too. 

 

They did not. 

 

The other mortals, they could see the Spirits, their bodies blessed with the otherworldly charms that tempted him so much, but they did not hear their speech like he did, even when the creatures lurked within their coastal village, and cast magic upon their fields. 

 

Hearing them was his burden.

 

In a cruel irony, Min Shin could no longer see the unearthly beauties he admired, only hear them speak.

 

A priest, a link between the spiritual and physical, between the hallowed and the mortal, had become a conduit of the dark forces from beyond that rampaged through the land. 

 

Was it because he found them, the Evil Spirits, pretty, despite their fur and scales, their claws and teeth? 

 

Their voices were clearer, sounding girlish, tempting, yet at the same time, so foreign, so eternal. 

 

They talked and talked whilst a failed priest doubted himself. 

 

Perhaps he had been too lecherous, he thought, and now, now, he could only suffer for his sin. Maybe that was the reason his divine lady had smote him.The Evil Spirits, however, cared little for the heavens above. 

 

Now he could hear them, the beings from beyond, but never look, and never touch, as they were far away, lost somewhere in the endless black that was now Shin’s sight. 

 

The whispers, the voices, an invisible crowd nestled within the priest's head, were inexhaustible in their conversation, and incomprehensible in their form, but always, always there.

 

Their intensity came and went, like a torrent of rain pattering upon a roof, a sign of the Greater Spirits’ presence, passing around the place he sat or laid. 

 

Occasionally, the cacophony of speech would become a veritable storm that threatened to crack the priest’s very skull with its intensity. 

 

This only happened when the white ones were around. 

 

Those were unlike their lesser kin. They radiated power, their presence so undeniable he didn’t require eyes to notice.  

 

They were death incarnate, commanding the ceaseless choir, but they were not always there, distracted by different matters. That offered a respite to the poor man doomed to hear what the other mortals couldn’t. 

 

Perhaps this too was part of this punishment, his curse. 

 

The senses bestowed upon him when he was chosen were fading, as his patron goddess rejected him. Somehow, though, he still knew of the unseen storm far away, and the beacon that flared within the center of the storm. 

 

It took the white ones with it, but its absence mattered very little.

 

The speech of the lesser Spirits reverberating within the priest’s head was more than enough to entice him. The more he listened, the more beautiful they sang, almost as if they still tried to lure him in.

 

A few days ago, he wondered if they were outside or inside, but now he knew. 

 

They were already inside. 

 

His mind was no longer drowning in the tides of their elegant malevolence. He was carried by it, captured by it, as they wove their plots to subjugate everything that was. 

 

Unfit, and crippled, the servant of the Viridian High Lady didn’t have the strength to resist their call for much longer.

 

Ancient minds of the evil kind… 

 

“Priest?” 

 

Min Shin almost missed that someone was talking to him, enraptured by the cacophony of Spirit’s conversation. They spoke again and again of their designs for crabs, insects, and other vermin of the mortal realm, reshaped for new, unimaginable purposes. 

 

He could hear them. 

 

Shin smiled, almost absentmindedly, as someone spoke to him again, insistently. 

 

He shouldn’t have. 

 

“Wake up, priest!” 

 

A normal voice. Female. At least he thought it was female. The time listening to the otherworldly choir had almost made him forget that voice.  

 

“Do you…” he asked, “Do you hear the voices too?” 

 

“This one does hear them.” She said, her tone calm and collected among the clutter that shook his mind, then giggled. It was a strange, quiet laugh, a ‘ka-ka’ sound, then more words came. 

 

He, once again, didn’t know if the words were inside or outside. 

 

“They are there to guide us, and we are there to be one with them, and in the end, all will be one.” 

 

He found the calm answer - an abrupt break in the raging storm - terrifying, knowing the echoes in his head would soon return. They - the Spirits - cared a little for him being able to talk with the other mortal.

 

But would the mere mortal hear their ceaseless choir? 

 

“...they speak of fish… a big fish … in the ocean?” Shin spoke, almost absentmindedly, struggling to distinguish between the voices. “They want the fish to be a ship to sail the ocean?”

 

“Madame Rye is quite upset with the ships,” the woman ‘outside’ his mind confirmed, unphased by the odd query.

 

The answer was as nonsensical as his question. Was he even having a conversation, or was he talking to himself? Perhaps the Spirits were talking to him, though the voice did not sound like one of theirs, nor one of their puppets. 

 

Min Shin expected to be told he was crazy. 

 

“However, this one plays a different role in her god’s grand design, and does not dare to interrupt the Fleshspeakers’ most holy work.” 

 

A pause. Those two words, they didn’t belong together, at least so he thought. 

 

“Flesh? Speaker?” Shin asked, confused. What was a ‘Fleshspeaker’? 

 

“Winged messengers of my god. Spirits with the likeness of bats that can bestow blessings on mortals.” The woman answered impatiently, as the choir in his head sang once more.

 

A god, she said, didn’t she? 

 

Min Shin's thoughts were carried away, once again, as his mind conjured a picture of the flying Spirit, while the constant murmur continued, heedless of his lack of understanding. 

 

It was a song, was it? 

 

He wanted to listen to them instead. 

 

“This one requires your services. You would be useful to my god once more.” The voice-outside added, but now, it sounded - felt - like it was inside, within his mind, within the choir, demanding obedience:

 

“My god wants to bring all mortals to his fold, and you will help me find those who are worthy of his blessing. The raiders distracted him for far too long.” 

 

Focus, he reminded himself, he needed to focus. 

 

Min Shin knew of the raiders that had once pillaged the kingdom’s coast, but now they were unheard of. He had never experienced them himself until yesterday. He had heard the villagers shouting, but  he had done nothing. 

 

He couldn’t do anything. In his maimed state, he couldn’t even flee, let alone fight. 

 

“But this poor priest is blind…” he protested meekly. 

 

Min Shin was not only unworthy, he was now useless. 

 

“Madame Rye will give you eyes.” The answer was dismissive, and before he could object again, a strong arm grabbed him, dragging him somewhere. 

 

The voices within were excited - particularly one, rising among the many. 

 

What did ‘tetrachromacy’ even mean? 

 

Min Shin didn’t understand. 

 

However, before anything could be done, or even thought, he was lying on the cold ground and talons gripped him, sinking into his flesh. 

 

He wanted to scream in pain as his muscles seized, yet the only thing he could think of was the alluring beauty of the bat spirit he had once seen. One of them must be gripping him now, its strong, elegant body wrapped in soft, glistening fur. 

 

Min Shin was unworthy of the dragon goddess, but now he thought of the Spirits, somehow both beast and women, and he desired them. In this sudden moment of madness and suffering, he wanted to be theirs.

 

The voices sang to him, and for the first time, he wanted to obey them, to follow their commands, to be worthy of the embrace of their fur and scales.

 

The temptation of the Spirits was suddenly too strong and among the agony came…

 

…a relief, as everything had passed and the pain, once so strong, had subsided. 

 

The sensation was indescribable. He could feel the powers beyond the mortal ken coursing through his very flesh, turning his own muscle into putty in the hands - claws - of the Spirit. He didn’t resist further, just thought of the Bat Spirit that was doing this. 

 

A ‘Fleshspeaker’, he recalled, as the itching sensation reached his burned out eye sockets, and then… 

 

… then came dazzling light from the nothingness he had been trapped in, and he could, once again, see! 

 

The sky above him was magnificent, even more vivid than before, but what captured his attention was the bat Spirit stepping on him. She looked down at him, pointy ears perked up cutely, eyes gleaming with power. 

 

“You are beautiful.” 

 

The words slipped from his tongue unconsciously. He’d never thought of the Spirits in that manner. It felt wrong. Unnatural. But now, as he gazed at her form, he realized it was true. 

 

The unnatural sharpness of his newly regained sight only accentuated the charm the Spirit cast on him, and his treacherous mind enticed him to caress her smooth, black fur. Even the terrible outfit of the skin and bone the creature wore didn’t dissuade him.

 

The Bat Spirit brushed him off, her two words alien, her tone disparaging, yet something within him urged him, rushed him, to repeat them, while the cacophony within his head grew even stronger. 

 

Min Shin looked around, captivated by the village, now in more vivid, bright colours than he had remembered before - the clear sky, azure sea, and uncanny greenery encroaching on the coast. There was, however, more. Much more. 

 

He was suddenly captivated by a strange, blue-yellow being levitating above the waves, one he had never seen before, one with tentacles like a sea creature, but also, positively, out of this world. 

 

Another Spirit he had never seen. 

 

“This one is grateful for your help, Madame Rye,” the woman remarked suddenly to the Bat Spirit, not him, and the creature seemed to answer, more approachable and friendly. The exchange that followed disoriented him as his head was, once again, struck with the intensity of the choir. 

 

He had never noticed before, but there was a difference in how the conversation felt if the person - the Spirit - in question, was near, or far away, and he realized that the never-ending drone that threatened to burst his skull open was, in truth, a collection of all the Spirits that existed, regardless where they were. 

 

Normally, they seemed far away, but if he focused his senses, tried to embrace their now more melodic, charming hum, it was like a song in a busy marketplace just around the corner…

 

It was so difficult to pay attention. 

 

“Voices.” He said, “They seem much clearer now….” 

 

Pretty, he wanted to say, but the words froze on his tongue when he turned his head. 

 

What he saw startled him, though the Bat Spirit pushed him back when he tried to grab her leg. 

 

The witch. 

 

He had seen her before, and she, despite her conflicting beliefs and allegiances, wasn't an unfamiliar face. 

 

It was she who had talked him into the ritual which had led to him falling further from the grace of the Viridian High Lady. Though he did not know her name, seeing her now, changed and transformed, was stunning.

 

She sat on the ground, looking at him. Her outfit was quite modest, but there was no way she would be confused with the people of the land, or even the rare outlanders who visited some centers of commerce.  

 

She still had the same black hair lining her face, very typical for the locals, but her eyes… 

 

Her eyes were not human - they were yellow, with the slit pupils of the snake, an unsettling glow behind them. Her tanned skin bore the marks of smooth serpentine scales in an elegant, symmetric way. 

 

There was something unsettling about her gaze, a presence, a reflection of other realms, some untold power slowly growing within her. 

 

They stared into his mind.

 

“This one’s name is Ari.” she said, her voice still young, feminine, youthful, “This one couldn’t be a witch, she has no snake.”

 

She smiled, small fangs flashing behind her lips, and giggled once more. It was, once again, a ‘ka-ka’ sound, amused, unbothered. 

 

“Except for the Serpent that grows inside. She is of a different kind.” 

 

Although the meaning of the expression eluded him, it still made Min Shin shiver. 

 

There was something strange and menacing behind it, even if he couldn’t tell why, or how, she should fear the Serpent. 

 

The witch herself now felt - and looked - more like an Evil Spirit than a mortal. Her presence, like one of the white ones, was one that demanded obedience. It was still her, but different. Though deep inside, Min Shin wondered whether she - the witch - was ever a mortal, or was always a Spirit in disguise, luring, manipulating him. 

 

Was it all a trick? A deception? A lie? 

 

“Your eyes…” 

 

Once again, she laughed softly. 

 

“My god has endless gifts for those who serve him.” The witch touched her face, her fingers tipped with the sharp claws, and continued smiling: “... and you will help me find more like me, ready to accept his gifts.” 

 

Never, he wanted to say, but somehow, he couldn’t. In truth, it was far too late for him, considering his willing participation in the ritual. He felt he was already caught in the web, helplessly ensnared by the dark forces.  

 

“It will be much better once we all become one. This one never saw things clearer…” 

 

The witch - or perhaps, a half-snake Spirit - assured, but Min Shin couldn’t focus on her. 

 

Instead, his gaze wandered to the black Cat Spirit standing behind the witch. It - she - too was attractive, with her furred body covered by a scandalously short blouse that just barely reached her hips.

 

The witch, she was at least properly dressed, but the Spirits, they all seemed to want to tantalize him with their vile charms. 

 

Why were all the Spirits so womanly? 

 

He caught himself staring. 

 

The Cat Spirit laid her hand on the witch’s shoulder, a familiar gesture, yet one that betrayed her impatience. Shin found himself secretly wishing he, himself, would receive such attention. 

 

“Why me?” he asked, forcing himself to look away. The Cat Spirit was not ashamed, though it - she - did not appreciate his stare. 

 

The poor priest was not their favourite, and they showed it. Their racing whispers confirmed it, but the witch they did not mind, all but confirming she was the deceiver, not the deceived. 

 

“I didn’t do anything.” He added, 

 

“Your ritual worked,” she replied dryly, and the priest was certain it wasn’t just the woman’s appearance that had changed, but her mannerisms, too.

 

“And it is clear that you, too, could bear the blessing.” Ari gestured. There were not only Spirits around but also a few odd, curious villagers, watching from a safe distance, as well as a few, nearly mindless-looking men, foreign from their looks. Perhaps they were the raiders he had heard were enslaved.  

 

The blank stares of the enthralled were disturbing. 

 

“Why?” Shin asked, feeling rather lost, trying to focus. 

 

“Why would anyone reject my master? This one does not know, does not care,” the witch said, looking around. 

 

“This one is here to sort the worthy from the unworthy.”

 

The witch - Ari - gestured with her hand, and snickered, and added:

 

“Separating the wheat from the chaff.” 

 

She seemed amused, as much as the priest was puzzled.

 

“Many of these people, they saw the light, accepted us.” Ari wondered. She did sound like a different person. “But are they capable of bearing the blessings?” 

 

“This one is the servant of the Viridian High Lady. Her blessing is the only one I am concerned with.” Min Shin replied suddenly, though he did not find the strength in himself to say it proudly. After all, he had been rejected, cast away, fallen from grace, yet he couldn’t renounce the goddess he served for this long, his entire adulthood, even. 

 

“Yes…” the Witch - Ari - admitted, with a smile "...and she, in turn, serves the same master we do, as everything should. Her blessings are now the blessing of my god, my Master.” 

 

She motioned towards the coastal fields, drowning in colours.

 

The priest found it hard to believe that his Lady would side with the Evil Spirits, and he wanted to say that it was nothing but a lie, but then, he couldn’t deny the new form his dragoness had taken, following the actions he, himself, had participated in. 

 

Even though the bountiful harvest was now within the domain of the Spirits, the local priest removed and sacrificed. 

 

Min Shin was now burdened by guilt. 

 

“...perhaps because your little goddess understood, you do too, priest,” the witch added ponderously, “You are now going to help me sort the chaff from the wheat.” 

 

Another giggle. 

 

It was not what he had wanted, not original, yet, when he looked at the elegant Cat Spirit, none too pleased with him, he couldn’t find the strength to resist.

 

Was he, too, damned? 

 

Something within him wanted to caress the Spirits, perhaps the feline one that accompanied Ari, or perhaps that bat one that returned his sight to him. 

 

“But my mission…” he protested meekly. 

 

One which led him here, to some forgotten village on the coast, following the destruction and desecration of the shrines in Chunnan. Then, he came here, beckoned by the Spirits, now tied to them, hearing their song echoing within his skull. 

 

“My mission…” Shin repeated. 

 

“...is over.” Ari gestured at the coastal village in the shadow of the black eldritch tree, overrun by the spirits he had helped. 

 

The transformation was, indeed, complete, its population accepting, or even welcoming of the Spirits’ presence, its surroundings transformed, held within the tight grip of their magic.   

 

It was a different world, but Min Shin wanted to hold on to… 

 

What exactly? 

 

“There aren’t any new tasks for you from your lowly goddess.” Ari said, “Unfortunately, my god didn’t insist on handing over her servants to help this one with the selection. They were too busy being taught the new ways, only you were forgotten there…” 

 

Forgotten? 

 

Min Shin, a faithful servant of the Viridian High Lady, wanted to object, but it was futile, as it occurred to him that the Witch couldn’t be lying, as this was what he feared when he was blind.

 

He had been left behind a long time ago. 

 

Why did he, somehow, still believe he was redeemable after the disappointments he brought to the Lady? 

 

Rising to her feet, Ari, the witch, adjusted her dress, and added, curtly,  

 

“My god gave an order. His orders will be obeyed.” 

 

Ari exchanged the look with the feline. The Cat Spirit, obviously disgusted with Shin, looked at the transformed witch much more favourably, much more kindly. 

 

Before he could say anything, he was swallowed by a swirling portal of eldritch energies and thrown into the shifting void that defied all mortal understanding. 

 

It was a place of contradiction, where the whims of the Cat Spirits ruled over the fleeting concepts of places far and close, up and down, and the always talkative host of whispers threatened to burst his skull open. 

 

Here, in this unholy place, the white ones were no longer distant. They were here, behind him, above him, inside his head, demanding his obedience. 

 

There was no bargaining: The Master’s orders would be obeyed, they insisted. 

 

He came back to the cold cobbles. 

 

It took him a precious moment to realize he was back in Chunnan, in the shrine he had tended until his goddess sent him on the quest that had changed everything, barely noticing the people scuffling and scattering in panic.

 

The way the Spirits travelled was as disorienting as it was dizzying, leaving him dazzled, not reacting to the townsfolk that were gathering inside the shrine when the eldritch powers tore the space apart, stunning a few, and terrifying the rest. 

 

Min Shin would have said something and should have. The suddenness of it left him gasping for breath while the unceasing cacophony of voices reared itself once more, uncaring for the little mortals they hushed away. 

 

A headache drove tears into Shin's freshly regained eyes.

 

He stared wordlessly as one older woman tried to drag a dazed, drunk looking man away, shouting about the Evil Spirits. 

 

The priest looked around. 

 

The town shrine looked the way he left it several fateful days ago - a small, paved courtyard surrounded the stone wall, undisturbed, with none of the Evil Spirits in sight - a door up the stairs to the shrine properly opened, but otherwise, the way he remembered. 

 

It was a calm place, even in the middle of the city, away from the market or craftsmen’s quarters. 

 

He ascended to the main building, looking around in its dim light at the empty, though richly painted hall. The altar was ransacked with some statues on it smashed and others missing, probably carried away after he caused the initial damage in his fervour from the visions of the High Lady. 

 

That, too, remained the same the way he left it. 

 

He had doubts now, wondering whether it was worth it, whether he even wanted to be the guide to the buried relics now that the goddess that commanded him had lost her interest. 

 

Picking up a piece of the shattered statue, clay painted pale red, Min Shin caught himself not observing any of the painstakingly learned rituals of approaching the altar, showing no respect to the deities this place was built to honour without even realizing it. It… 

 

…was a strange feeling, foreign, showered with the whispers of a thousand Spirits, yet still somehow his, almost as if a part of his body rebelled against this very place. The clay piece of the dragon patron of humanity was simultaneously hot and cold to the touch.

 

Suddenly, his anger boiled over. 

 

The red dragon’s grin, captured in the idol’s still intact head, seemed mocking, offensive, as the whispers in his skull hummed their own melody. 

 

The statue fragment, though, felt like a cruel joke, almost as if the heavenly dragons jeered at Min Shin's misfortune. 

 

And the destroyed idol of the Red King? 

 

The only thing he could think of that was also red was that Fox Spirit, as beautiful and terrible as an army with its banner raised… 

 

“No…” Min Shin said to nobody. and smashed the statue against the wall. It tore a hole in the paper window, crashing somewhere outside. 

 

His thoughts still ran to the Fox Spirit with the plumed helmet he had seen a few days ago. She, too, would command him to obey, as the rest of the chirping host would. However, the Spirits left him there to once again prove himself, something he had already failed to do once. 

 

“Fo… ma … ste!’ words somewhere behind him brought him to reality, and he turned. 

 

There was a Spirit there, standing in the shrine door, flapping its colourful wings. He could see her far too clearly, the green of her fur far too brilliant.

 

It - she - was one of those strange, small ones with the stature of a child, four hands, insect wings, and an unsettling face. Her lower jaw opened, mandibles twitching as she repeated the two words.

 

He still thought she looked cute.

 

There was still something special about her. 

 

He did not understand them, and the voices, still continuing their never ending chatter, paid him - and her, the little moth spirit - no mind. 

 

The choir within his skull had their own ideas - there were ones lurking and hunting, and ones that dreamt of fire, and trees, crabs and berries, and other, weirder things. 

 

Shin, once again, felt lost, listening to their conversation far too deeply, leaving him rather dazed. 

 

The little moth-girl repeated the two words again, looking frustrated, but if she spoke through the singing chorus within his aching skull, the priest didn’t know which one was hers. There were so many, too many.. 

 

The moth spirit was suddenly interrupted by a stone impacting her forehead. 

 

She made a pained whimper.

 

Whether she bled or not, though, Min Shin couldn’t tell, as the attack infuriated him. Pushed over some invisible edge, he rushed outside to face the attacker. He didn’t know why he wanted to protect the moth-spirit, but he did. 

 

A small crowd of townsfolk had gathered outside, just a few people shouting, pointing, waving fists and, in a few cases, random tools. 

 

“No blood should be spilled in this holy place!” he said, spreading his arm, putting himself between the moth spirit and the mob, but suddenly one man charged at him. 

 

Shin didn’t react, or couldn’t react, to the abrupt charge, and was shocked by the sharp pain that pierced his abdomen, the handle of a dagger protruding from his stomach.

 

Yet, despite everything, as he collapsed on the ground, he took the man with him. 

 

He couldn’t think clearly when he grabbed the man’s leg, pulling him down, then crawled forward despite his injury, hitting the offender again and again. There was no grace in it, no skill, only primal rage he found himself unable to control. 

 

The moth spirit was not to be harmed. 

 

Not!

 

“You will not harm her!” he shouted, and continued punching the man until he, too, collapsed, weak, soon to perish. 

 

The Spirits didn’t need his help though, as black, wolf-like ones emerged from shifting air and dispersed the crowd, terrifying people, or overpowering them, bringing them to the ground. 

 

Min Shin rolled on his back, his vision blurring as a rat spirit removed the blade from his gut, blood pouring from the wound. 

 

Even his dying thoughts betrayed him. 

 

Then, in a blink of an eye, it was all over. The pain was gone, washed away by that strange magic, only the gore staining his  robe a reminder it was ever there.

 

Only guilt remained, guilt and gore. Or was it shame or maybe infinite sadness, when facing the very realization of his own unworthiness?

 

The choir was annoyed, too, the crowd nothing more than the obnoxious pests still resisting the Spirits’ attempts to tame them. 

 

Then the moth spirit leaned over him. The one from the shrine, small and girlish, with the strange jaw. She smiled, her ruby eyes glowing.

 

“For Master!” She said, her tone chirpy and unbothered, and pinched him, almost cheerfully, with one of her hands. 

 

Min Shin, the faithful, yet unworthy servant of the Viridian High Lady, suddenly couldn’t help but agree.

 

“For Master…”