Miracle

 

It takes nearly a month and a half for Callie to finally give in to the pressure. Despite Knight-Captain Wellt’s passive allowance for Calvin to try and see Callie anyway, neither of them are able to bring themselves to take the risk of being found out. As Calvin stops fulfilling the duty of pursuing blessings, the only times Callie gets to see him are rushed encounters in small moments at banquets. 

But as she lays in bed this night, staring blankly at the wall to her bedroom, Callie can feel the lever finally shift inside of her. She tosses and turns alone, missing even the comfort of Junivere’s presence. Across the villa, Callie knows that she and Silas are up talking, or cuddling, or fucking… and the knowledge becomes unbearable. 

Recently, Callie has taken to drinking tea with Willow on the balcony most nights, welcoming the distraction. But, despite their polite friendship and evening companionship, Callie doesn’t feel overly close with the priestess. They just don’t have enough in common, she thinks at first; though later she quietly concludes that Willow reminds her too much of how she was when she first arrived. 

Callie had spent the entirety of the evening with Willow, waiting until her exhaustion finally pushed her to bed. She hates leaving the priestess’ company, knowing that her anxieties and desperations would consume her once she was alone, but she can only experience so many awkwardly long pauses. 

Eventually, the tossing and turning is too much as well. Between hardly sleeping anymore, missing Calvin and Junivere, and tirelessly working with Magister Hamada to help the farmers, Callie finally caves. She sits up, lighting a candle and forcing herself out of bed. 

In her wardrobe, she finds the spare plainclothes priestess outfit she uses when she doesn’t want to be recognized. The simple tunic and trousers are easily disguised with a long cloak, and at nighttime, there would be even less recognition. Callie throws the clothes on and extinguishes the candle, waiting in the dark until her eyes fully adjust. 

Despite never having the courage to try, Callie had already mapped out exactly how to leave the villa at night. On one of her first days, Velena had showed Callie a comfortable lookout point over the city, just off of a small road from the villa’s courtyard. Callie learned that if you were careful of your footing, you could drop down onto a lower balcony and weave your way through the lower halls of the Sun District, eventually arriving at a side gate. 

Once her eyes relax and her night vision improves, Callie quietly slips out of her room. She walks barefoot across the marble floors, appreciating the cool stone after the hot days out in the fields. She finds her way to the lookout, taking a deep breath and cautiously dropping her feet down below, gripping the railing above her to lower herself down. It's easier than she suspects, and soon she’s gliding through the hallways, sticking to the shadows and ducking behind cover with every guard who strolls past. 

At the side gates, she huffs quietly to see it is guarded. It’s only a single, relaxed paladin, but it was still enough to ensure she couldn’t slip by unnoticed. Callie sighs, throwing back her hood and striding forward, hoping she wasn’t about to make a tremendous mistake. 

“Hello, paladin… is that Tumult?” She asks gently, stepping into the light. 

The paladin’s armor clanks together loudly as he rouses, startled at the sudden noise. He draws his sword, steadying himself a moment later. She can see his eyes narrow, and he exhales, “Hal Devotia?” 

“Indeed.” 

“What are you doing down here? It’s late,” he replies, softening his tone. He sounds confused and concerned, but is gentle enough. “Are you lost? Do you need help getting back-,”

“I’m alright, Paladin Tumult,” she laughs politely, raising a hand to encourage him to relax. “I… I actually was hoping to exit through this gate.” 

“I’m not supposed to let anyone through. Even you, hal Devotia.” He sits back in his small chair, set into a comfortable little alcove. “I’m sorry.” 

Callie leans back against the wall opposite to him, reclining nonchalantly. “I suspected as such.” She sighs. “Are you a holy man, Tumult? Do you worship Suul?” 

“I am,” he nods, “And I do.” 

“This… this is a little embarrassing, Paladin,” she begins, trying to force a somber tone into her voice. “I’m having a bit of a terrible night. Can’t sleep, can’t keep my mind at rest. Ever had a night like that?” 

“I’m on the nightwatch,” he smiles, “most nights are like that.” 

Callie giggles, smiling back for a moment before letting her affect fall more disheartened and wishful. “I was hoping to commune with Suul,” she explains, “but she never speaks to me in the villa. I’ve never known why. I thought that maybe if I went down to the central cathedral, she might speak.” 

“I could call an escort, if you’d like, hal Devotia,” Tumult’s face softens with hers. 

“Normally I’d accept,” Callie sighs, shaking her head and hoping her acting wasn’t too dense, “but last time she spoke to me… she kept repeating this message, over and over again. She said: ‘only in the loneliness of dark will you see me.’” She scratches her head, hoping her lie was at least a little believable. “‘Only in the loneliness of dark will you see me, and I will protect you.’” 

“She’s a mysterious one, she is,” Tumult nods. 

She reads him quickly, trying to decide how far she was willing to take this. The desperation inside her quickly wins out, so Callie decides to double down. “I… I even wonder if she wanted us to meet here, Tumult. I’ve got this feeling in my heart that she wants me to share a message with you.” 

“A message? For me?” Tumult sits forward intently. “What did she say?” 

“Have you been praying about a loved one recently?” Callie ventures, carefully trying to read every tiny detail of his expression. He nods slowly, eyes widening a little. She closes her eyes, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing, “She wants to tell you not to relent. That she hears you and is pleased by your faithfulness.” 

Tumult takes a deep breath, letting the words wash over him for a brief moment. He seems moved, as though his hard work was actually paying off. Callie’s stomach tightens with guilt just a little, hoping she hadn’t just made a mistake. 

“Just to the cathedral, hal Devotia?” He asks nervously. 

“Just to the cathedral,” she lies. “I may be there for an hour or two, but it will all depend on the will of Lady Suul.” 

“Suul guide you,” Tumult nods slowly, standing and unlocking the gate for her. “I… I hope she speaks to you, too.” 

“Thank you, Paladin Tumult.” She steps through, turning back at the threshold to quickly add, “And I’ll let the Knight-Captain know how devoted you are when I see her next. I won’t tell her about this,” she raises a hand gently, comforting him, “but I’ll make sure she knows your dedication.” 

“Thank you, hal Devotia.” 

Callie turns and disappears quickly into the night, strolling onto the streets of the dark city. There’s a little bit of activity at night, though not nearly as much during the day. The main avenues are lit up with dim torches, and Callie decides the risk is worth it, raising her hood and walking in the safety of the light as she goes, thankful no one seems interested in bothering her. 

Calvin’s apartment is on the edge of the Center District, just a street over from where it meets the Rust District. Wide cobblestone streets separate the two-and-three story whitestone buildings that populate the Center District, far cleaner and more spacious than anything she had seen when she stayed at the Fleeting Fox. Callie carefully winds her way through the streets, eventually arriving at the base of the two-story building Calvin lives in, remembering his window was on the second floor. She finds a small pebble, timidly tossing it at the window where it bounces off with a soft thud. 

She tosses two more and is searching for a fourth when the window finally throws open and Calvin’s tired head sticks out. His eyes scan the street, and he groggily calls out, “If this is about another prank at the west gate, bother me about it in the morning.” His voice is low and cranky, and it's clear he’s just awoken.

“Just a friend come calling,” Callie raises a gentle hand, waving it softly and smiling. She lowers her hood just enough to let him get a proper look at her. 

“Ca-,” he stops himself, lowering his voice and harshly whispering, “What are you doing!?” 

“Just let me inside,” she dismisses, striding towards the door. 

After a few moments, she can hear the sound of a lock clicking and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless and confused Calvin. She hugs him sweetly as he appears, darting beside him and entering the home. He shuts the door behind her, furrowing his brow and crossing his arms after she pulls out of the hug. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he warns, “this could be so dangerous for yo-,” 

“I don’t care right now,” she huffs, dropping her cloak unceremoniously and stepping closer to him. “I just need you,” she exhales. 

“Callie-Callie-Callie,” he whispers quickly, carefully pushing her away. He sighs, holding her at arm’s length with a hand on each shoulder. “Does anyone know you’re here?” 

“The paladin at the gate believes I’m at the central cathedral.” 

“Gods,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It’s good to see you too,” she rolls her eyes, stepping back from him and ascending the narrow corridor of stairs that leads up into his apartment. 

Calvin’s apartment is simple, but comfortable. It’s a small loft with wooden floors and walls and rafters, with a small stove in one corner and a wide bed in another. There’s a few small tables and a single dresser, and two large racks for his armor, but otherwise it’s sparse. He’s hung up a few tapestries and banners from the Knighthood, as well as a few small plants potted beside a window. A bearskin rug runs the length of the main walkway. 

“It’s cute in here,” she smiles, slowly turning and taking in the scene. 

“We can’t all live in luxury,” Calvin replies quietly, arriving at the top of the stairs with a nervous expression. 

“This is more like what I grew up with,” Callie inhales, smelling the scent of wood and charcoal from his fire, lightly smoldering in the little iron stove. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the villa.” 

“Callie,” he takes her hand, squeezing it firmly. “You shouldn’t be here. I told you I’m not willing to risk you getting caught like this.” 

“And I told you that I’d be responsible for myself,” she rebuts. She doesn’t have the heart to argue more, so she drops her cloak and lightly sits down on the edge of his bed. “There’s pranks happening at the West gate?” 

Calvin holds his breath for a moment and she can see him flexing his muscles quietly to relieve his anxious tension. The little hairs on his chest dance slightly as he does, and Callie restrains her smile. “Nothing major,” Calvin relents, “but it’s enough of a nuisance that I have to hear about it now.” 

“You must be working so hard to stop them,” Callie teases, undoing the top tie on her tunic. “Does the Knight-Commander require a Devotia’s assistance to stop these ruffians?” 

Callie notices Calvin take a quick glance at her chest as she pushes it out for him. His face turns ever so slightly pink as he looks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the support beam in the center of the room. 

“I do miss my trips to the villa,” he concedes. “I’m not sure I should even ask what it’s like with Knight-Captain.” 

“Is it sexier if I do or don’t tell you?” Callie smirks. He rolls his eyes and she simply says, “She’s… it’s very straightforward. Honestly not very exciting at all.” 

“I think that’s enough information for me,” Calvin shakes his head, though he smiles lightly. “Can we talk about you being here, now?’ 

Callie’s enthusiasm drops. She sighs, relenting from her enticing pose and pulling her knees onto the bed with her. She slips off her shoes, wrapping her arms around her legs and curling into a tight ball. 

“It’s so lonely up there,” she says quietly. “Before, I at least had you visiting and Junivere and it was fine for a while. But now she spends her nights with Silas and you can’t come by. It’s awful.” 

“What about the priestesses?” 

“We get along but there’s always this distance between us,” Callie closes her eyes, pushing her body deeper into the firm mattress, feeling the soft blankets lightly caress her skin. “I’m always going to be their boss, as much as they tell me otherwise. Everyone treats me like there’s this glass wall between us.” 

Calvin sits down onto the bed next to her, placing a compassionate hand on her arm and gently stroking it. She wishes he would wrap her into his arms fully, but he keeps his distance. 

Callie continues, feeling a deep melancholy push its way into her voice. “It’s nice to be desired as a Devotia. For once in my life I can be myself and people actually like me for it… but it all wears off after a while. I just wish I could come home to you and talk and laugh and cuddle and not have to worry about upsetting everyone around me. I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Callie…” his fingers gently fondle her arm, absent-mindedly running across her skin. “I know it’s a lot of pressure but I know you can handle it. If you do things like this… that could get you in trouble, people are going to use that against you.” 

“I don’t care anymore,” she mutters. “I don’t care what they say about me.” 

“It sucks being in the center of attention,” he coos, his voice soft and soothing, “but you told me early on that it was better than hiding. You were so scared and miserable when we first met, you hated hiding.”

“I do,” she agrees.

“Getting in trouble could get you excommunicated,” he warns. “You’d have to leave all this behind, everything you’d built. It’d be a new badge of shame to wear. I know it’s hard to handle, and the rules can get to you, but it’s better than the alternative.” 

“I… I have a question but I’m scared you’ll hate me for it,” Callie tells him, hardly above a whisper. A pit of dread bubbles inside her stomach and she pulls her legs even tighter against her chest. 

“I promise not to be upset.” 

She inhales and holds her breath for a long moment, puffing the air out between her cheeks. “Would you go with me? If I left?” 

“My whole life is here, Callie,” he replies, quiet and disappointed. “As tempting as it is, and it is tempting,” he squeezes her shoulder affectionately, “I can’t give that all up.” 

“Yeah,” she nods slowly. 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” he adds quickly. “I do. I’d just rather find a way to make this work.” 

Callie rolls onto her back, lazily stretching out her arms to her full wingspan and letting her body melt into the bed. She looks up at him, seeing a face full of longing and sorrow, and feels her heart ache. She hates how unfair it is that Junivere gets to be with Silas… though another part of her is still worried about him. 

“I’m guessing it’d be too much to ask the Imperium for an exemption for me, too, isn’t it?” She muses. “There’s no way they’d believe us if we said we were already married.” 

“Probably not,” Calvin smiles. His hand lowers to Callie’s head, gently stroking his fingers through her hair. “You don’t have any secret marriages from Rookwell to call upon?” 

“Thankfully not,” Callie snorts. “I wasn’t exactly well-liked back home.” 

“That’s so difficult to believe,” Calvin replies sweetly, his laugh lines stretching with his soft smile. “It’s hard to imagine people not liking you.” 

“You’re biased,” she replies, letting out a puff of air. 

Callie feels her nerves and frustrations and disappointments twist and rattle inside of herself, leaving this jittery, buzzing feeling under her skin. Tucking her hands back to her chest, she can feel them shaking timidly, restraining the desperate energy underneath. She’d already made the impulsive decision to leave the villa, what was the point of leaving empty-handed?

“Please,” she begs, locking eyes with him. 

“Callie…” 

“I can learn more spells, find a way to bribe some of the guards, I could come see you once a week…” she takes a shallow breath, “At least this one time.” 

“Every second you stay here increases the chances I’ll never get to see you again,” Calvin rebuts. He leans down to hover over Callie, stroking a hand across her cheek. “I am willing to do anything required to prevent that from happening.” 

“So… to prevent the possibility of never seeing me again, you’ll never see me again?” She scowls, voice low and accusing. 

“There has to be another way than this.” 

“Then find it, Calvin!” She turns over, facing the wall in frustration. “I can’t spend every night hating myself for wishing you were there.” 

Calvin is silent for a long moment. 

“Please tell me you have an idea. Anything.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

“Anything.” 

She turns back to glare at him, resenting the vacant hopelessness drifting through his eyes. If he would just compromise, just accept the reality that this was their only option, she’d have something. But she can see it written clear across his face, he was never going to budge on this point. He’s too trapped in the comparisons of his brother to try. Callie sits up, grabbing her cloak from the floor and wrapping it over her shoulders. She stands from the bed, glaring down at him with something close to scorn. 

“I’m leaving,” she announces. 

“I’ll think of something,” Calvin promises, reaching for her hand. 

Callie sighs. “Don’t bother.” 

She turns and storms down the stairs, slamming the door to his apartment before he could say anything more. There was nothing to say. There was nothing to do. He could let her visit him or he could let her leave, and he clearly chose to let her leave. 

The night is cool against her cheeks, wet with silent streaks of tears as she feels something inside of herself cave. She looks back at the door for a long moment, feeling her lips quiver at the realization she’d never cross the threshold of this home again. 

It’s over, she repeats to herself, over and over as the words boom through her mind and echo deep within her bones. 

It’s over, and nothing could change the inevitability of the outcome. Calvin was never going to be hers and it was time to finally accept that fact. 

It’s over, loneliness would once again become like a dear sister to her. 

She feels numb inside, gripping the edges of her cloak tightly and pulling it against her skin. She wanders aimlessly, hardly caring to focus on where she was going or what anyone might think, listening to the soft clicking of her boots on the cobblestone echo across the streets. 

It’s over. 

Callie has only known Calvin for a few months but it feels like she’s putting down a dear part of herself - the part of herself that loved and could be loved, that felt alive at the touch of someone sweet, the one that told her she could hope for more than what had been. Rookwell, the feelings, once again becomes her reality. She’d survived there for so long, pushing away anything and everything that could bring light to her dark soul, and now it’s time to return. Her home is more than just a place to live, it’s a way for her to survive. Feel nothing. Be nothing. Desire nothing. Obey. 

The aches behind the tears finally ambush her in an alleyway. She throws her back against the stone walls and lets them consume her, slowly sliding down until she’s sitting on the dirty street below. She buries herself into her cloak, letting the tears and drool and snot flow freely while a feeling of constriction pulls her into a tighter and tighter ball. She wishes she could simply implode into herself, to disappear and never be seen again, leaving no trace behind. 

It’s over. 

She’d lost Mykah, she’d lost Junivere, and now she’d lost Calvin. It was time to accept that she had her fun, got to toy with the idea that maybe she deserved love, but that time was over. It would always and inevitably lead to her sobbing in the dirt and in the dark. 

Callie cries for a long time, long enough to lose any sense for the hour. She’s long past caring about the noise she makes, letting her hollow, heaving gasps ring out all around her. She’s constantly searching for a new, dry patch of her cloak to stain, hating the feeling of the damp cloth pressing into her cheek. 

She should never have let Calvin talk her into staying in Solva. Callie knew as soon as she was selected that she should run for the hills, and if she had listened to that instinct she wouldn’t feel this tearing pain inside her chest. She’d let him convince her that things could be different here for her, but it was only a half truth. She was just as trapped as ever.

Groaning, Callie slowly lifts herself up from the floor, throwing a hand against the wall to steady herself as she rises. She stumbles forward, forcing herself to return to walking, lazily strolling home. 

But as the large hill in the center of Solva comes into focus, with the Imperium and the Villa at its peak, Callie feels herself deflate. The thought of returning to an empty room is unbearable. The marble walls and flowing curtains that had slowly become her home make her feel sick to her stomach. Even worse was the realization she still had obligations for the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the… 

A decision wells up inside of her, obeying a need far outside of her conscious ability to make a decision. There was no need to deliberate it, no ability to question it. Her mind feels foggy and entranced, as though the world around her was nothing more than a dream, or some sort of nightmare to be escaped. 

Her feet carry her forward without any direction from her mind. It was time to abandon all of this pain and her ambition of avoiding it. She was never meant to be Devotia. It was an accident, a cruel joke, and she had made a profound mistake in letting herself grow to enjoy it. Maybe her pastors back home had been right all along. 

She stops some time later and stares up at the sign above her, slowly dangling back and forth in the breeze. The Fleeting Fox is as good of a place as any other to give up and start over, so Callie stumbles towards it and pushes the door open with abandon. It’s warm and quiet inside. There’s only a few tired guests huddled in the corners of the room, most of them closer to tomorrow’s hangover than today’s buzz. 

Callie approaches the bar and slowly lifts herself into one of its rickety old stools. She crosses her arms and sets them on the counter, lowering her head to lay against them and close her eyes. Her body tingles from the exhaustion of crying and it’s easy to think she could fall asleep on this counter just as any other drunk. 

“Not sure I should ask,” a deep voice above her mumbles quietly. 

“Hey, Magnus,” she croaks back. 

“Hal Devotia,” he whispers. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.” 

“Biscuit and tea, comin’ right up.” 

A few moments later she can feel the soft vibrations of a small plate and cup being placed down on the countertop near her, quietly thudding against the heavy wood. Groaning to herself, Callie peels herself up from the surface, picking off a few bites of the biscuit and chewing them weakly. 

“How do I keep ya’ safe tonight?” Magnus asks, leaning his forearms onto the table and speaking so only she can hear. “What do you need?” 

“I’m done, Magnus,” her voice is shaky and it's difficult to get all of the words out. “Can I stay here?” 

“Room’s yours as long as you need it,” he smiles. “Done with what?” 

She’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to be Devotia anymore.” 

Magnus lets out a soft whistle, taking in the news. “Talk to me, tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

“I’m just done,” she sighs. “I can’t handle it any longer.” 

“You’re tougher than you seem, miss,” he raps a soft finger on her shoulder to encourage her. “It’ll feel better in the morning.”

“No it won’t.” 

“It will.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do,” he grins at her warmly. “Nothing ever feels like it’ll be solved past midnight. So you sleep it off and tackle it tomorrow.” 

She takes a sip of tea, letting the comforting scent of peppermint fill her lungs and pour down her throat. “Can I work here again?” 

“We’ll save that question for tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

“Right now, you need some sleep and some space away from it,” he pats her hand, giving it a little reassuring squeeze. “Here’s as good a place as any for that.” 

“What room can I take?” 

“Four’s open.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Anything you need, just ask.” 

Callie nods, taking a few more quiet bites of the biscuit and rising from her seat, grabbing the hot cup of tea as she goes. She flashes him an appreciative smile and slips into the dark hallway on the ground floor, opening the door to her room and not even bothering to turn on the light. Room four’s window opens into a small courtyard behind the inn, comfortable and secluded, and tonight the full moon illuminates enough of her room to see. 

She sips the tea a few more times, placing it onto the nightstand and collapsing into the bed. Callie pulls her feet to her chest, curling up into a large ball and tucking herself under the slightly-scratchy blankets. She shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for sleep to steal her away from the cascade of fear flushing through her. 

– – – 

 

Callie rises in a trance. The moonlight through her window fills her vision as she slowly pulls herself out from under the covers. After two hours without being able to fall asleep she’s given up on the task. She feels suffocated under the roof, as though the building had suddenly captured her. She stumbles out of her room and down the hall in the opposite direction of the tavern, making her way out into the small courtyard. 

The air is cooler than before, and the chill breeze is a gentle relief from the stuffy warmth of the inn. She closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the freedom of the secluded space and the light of the moon above. A round, shallow fountain fills the center of the courtyard. It’s remarkably plain, with no statute or feature in the center of its water. It’s simply a round pool that reflects the light of the moon above. She sits on its edge and stares into the water, finding a strange satisfaction in the reflection of the night sky. 

Her mirror image looks exhausted. Her eyes are red and puffy and her cheeks look gaunt and flushed. She swears that behind her pupils there’s nothing left, no lingering feelings of anything beyond a sense of numbness throughout. If she could empty even the last holdouts of herself into this pool, she would. She would allow herself to splash into the water and become nothing. 

She lifts her eyes to stare at the moon in the water, bright and round and perfectly still. The rim of the fountain is enough to block the weak breeze, so the pool maintains a perfect mirror of the firmament above. Callie glares at the celestial body, fixated on the pale glow basking around her. 

Suddenly, it’s as though the pool is a mirror that shatters. Deep cracks spread across the surface of the water, spiraling out from the center of the moon itself. But, unlike a mirror shattering, the image doesn’t split into jagged edges. The cuts through the glassy water are rounded and curved, creating thousands of circles and teardrops and wings that arrange themselves into a beautiful interconnected pattern. They spiral out from the moon like a mandala, intricate and complex and breathtakingly beautiful. 

Callie’s stomach lurches, suddenly feeling the bubbling warmth of magic crashing through her body. She stands quickly, panting as the mirror slowly moves. Each individual rounded shard slowly rises into the air. Thousands and thousands of them suspend into the air, lightly chiming as they arrange themselves into the shape of a person nearly seven-feet tall. As the form of a woman slowly comes into vision, the glass jewels reform the shape of the mandala, spiraling over her shimmering skin. Her face maintains the reflection of the moon from the pool, radiant and ethereal, while the rest of her body glitters like stars. 

“W-what are you?” Callie mutters, unsure if she’s somehow drifted into sleep. She reaches a hand forward towards the woman, stopping short of actually touching the image. “Did I do this?” 

“I have done this,” the mirrored woman responds, holding her patterned hands open warmly. Her voice is resonant and soft, chiming quietly as the glass moves with her mouth. “It is good to meet you, Callana.”

“Who are you? What are you?” Callie furrows her brow, still feeling the jitters of magic racing under her skin. “How do you know me?” 

The woman holds a hand to her chest, bowing her head. “You may call me Yala.” 

Callie’s eyes widen. “The goddess?” 

Yala bows her head again in recognition. “I am she.” 

Callie scrambles, trying to decide if she should fall to her knees or escape or scream for help. She remains frozen in place, heart pounding loudly in her ears. All across her body goosebumps emerge, and she can feel every hair on her body slowly stand at attention. 

Yala’s hair is short and curly, slowly waving back and forth as though she was suspended underwater. Despite the curves of the glass, her body is blocky and stout, and her face has a wide jawline and firm nose. 

“What do you want with me?” 

“To meet my chosen,” Yala replies simply. “It has not been easy to be able to speak with you.” 

“Chosen?” Callie furrows her brow. “I was anointed by Suul.” 

“A formality,” Yala waves a hand to dismiss her concern. “My wife recognizes that your people move slowly with change so she called you for me.” 

“Yala doesn’t-,” she stops herself. “You don’t have Devotia. Only Suul does.” 

“Don’t I?” Yala smiles, tilting her head to the side. “I have chosen you.” 

Callie’s mind races and she struggles to process what the goddess means. It was fundamental to Solva and its faith that Suul was the source of all magic, even for most other goddesses. No one believed Yala would need a Devotia, she simply acted in accordance with Suul’s will. 

“Why… why are you here?” 

“I am many things, Callana,” Yala opens her arms wide, feet hovering a few inches above the surface of the pool. “I am the moon, just as my wife is the sun. I am the attraction between things, just as my wife is the consummation of all. I am the love and the lust. I am the push and the pull, the reflection and the mirror. I am the luminous in the dark.” 

Yala floats forward, taking a few suspending steps towards Callie. “When I petitioned Suul as nothing more than a lonely man upon the earth, she loved me and blessed me. Her threads transformed me and gave me a new self, to change and be changed. To love and be loved. To long and be longed after.” 

Callie takes a tense breath, stepping away from Yala quietly. “What does this have to do with me?” 

“You are my chosen,” Yala smiles. “My spirit is your spirit, and yours is mine. You are my reflection and my mirror. I have convinced my wife that the time has come for a new way of being.” 

“New… how?” 

“A new age of Devotia. A new dawn in the night, a new dusk in the day. Your heart knows it purely. A new age of magic.” Yala steps closer, towering over Callie. “You have done well to prepare for it.” 

“I haven’t done anything,” Callie grumbles. “I’m leaving. I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Listen, first,” Yala chimes, reaching a palm out towards her. “Take my hand, Callana.” 

Callie takes a long breath. The constantly shifting and spinning image of the goddess is hypnotic and breathtaking. All around her the air seems filled with a blanket of soft energy, buzzing and intertwining between everything in the space, including herself. She timidly extends her hand, softly laying it on top of Yala’s. 

Immediately she feels as though she’s been washed away into a river of magic; a flowing current of divinity courses through her, leaving her body ebbing and flowing as though caught in the waves. Her robes begin drifting in the air as though suspended in water like the goddess, and Callie feels her hair slowly rise and float. 

It’s magic, ancient and smooth. Inside of her body it feels like a cool breeze, terrifyingly unfamiliar to the burning heat of the magic she was accustomed to. Where Suul’s magic feels combustive and energized, Yala’s is full of tenderness and potential, as though anything at all could be possible in this moment. Yala rises up until the image of the moon in her glassy reflection aligns with the moon in the starry sky above. Moonbeams cascade through the courtyard, bathing Callie in the soft light. 

“Open your lungs and allow yourself to drown in this power,” Yala commands. Callie obeys implicitly, as though there was no fathomable reason to disobey. She opens her mouth and lets the air and light fill her stomach, slowly expanding until she can no longer breathe. It doesn’t hurt, and she doesn’t feel as though she’s suffocating. It’s as though her body always had the ability to survive on this magic alone and never needed air to begin with. 

Callie drifts back down towards the ground as a new aura of magic erupts from her skin. Curving bands of icey blue light softly form along her skin, like glowing tattoos in spiraling fractals all over her. They cool her body, glowing brightly before softly fading out of view. 

“Hal Devotia Yalania,” Yala’s voice announces, echoing through her whole being. “Go and bestow my blessings upon this world.” 

Yala descends down into the pool and the shards of glass drip from her form. As they fall they become water once more, and suddenly Callie is alone in the courtyard again with nothing but an empty fountain, a bright moon above, and a new peace in her soul.

 

– – –

 

Callie returns to the villa feeling like an entirely new person. The fog in her mind clears as she walks barefoot on the marble floors. Tumult remarked that she looked as though she had seen a ghost, and Callie simply replied that she may as well have. She stops in front of the door to Junivere’s room, steadying herself enough to raise a fist to the wood and knock gently. 

After a few moments the door cautiously creaks open, revealing a freshly awoken Junivere. Her shoulder-length hair is slightly ratty and tangled and her cheeks look warm and weary. She yawns widely, smiling at Callie through a look of confusion. 

“What’s up, Callie?” She asks, slowly and sleepy. “It’s late.” 

“I… I need to talk to you,” Callie vaguely peaks back behind her, looking for Silas. “Alone, if possible.” 

“Do you want me to send him home?” Junivere tilts her head, stretching her neck softly. “Or we can go somewhere else.” 

“If it wouldn’t be too horrible of me to ask him to leave… It’s…” She pauses, unsure of what to say. “... it’s important.” 

“Of course,” she gently strokes the side of Callie’s face, wiping a thumb over her cheekbone. “Just a second.” 

Junivere slips back into the room. Callie can hear her speaking quietly with Silas, and after a little bit of rustling and a few candles being lit, he gathers his things and exits the room, nodding politely at Callie as he leaves. She gives him a vacant smile, ducking into the room behind him and shutting the door. Junivere sits on the side of the bed, leaning back on her elbows and waving her over. 

“How’s that going?” Callie asks nervously, dropping her cloak and laying down next to Junivere. 

“It’s alright,” Junivere sighs, laying back fully. “It was a little strange at first, and sometimes still feels weird, but it’s something. I think the novelty is wearing off at this point.” 

“I miss you,” Callie mutters, turning on her side to look into her eyes. 

“I miss you too.” Junivere turns as well, shifting to be a little closer. “I was already thinking I’d stop seeing him every night and spend more time with you.” 

“I’d like that,” Callie nods. “I’d really like that.” 

“Besides,” she chuckles weakly, “he’s not submissive like you. I don’t get to have nearly as much fun watching him squirm.” Callie blushes, letting Junivere lay a hand onto her waist and pull her closer into a sweet cuddle. “So what’s happening? Why are you up so late?” 

“Promise you won’t be mad at me.” 

“What did you do?” 

“I went to go see Calvin.” 

If Junivere is upset by the news, she stifles her reaction well. She takes a deep breath, nodding slowly and shifting her other arm to wrap around Callie’s shoulder. “How did that go?” 

“Horrible,” Callie croaks. “I… I think things might be over with him.” 

“For good?” 

Callie sighs. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Junivere shakes her head. “Are you okay?” 

“I wasn’t. I thought I was going to resign.” 

“To be with him?” 

“Not even,” she closes her eyes, forcing herself to take another long breath before continuing. “I was just going to give it all up. Maybe leave Solva.” 

Junivere looks nervous. “But you aren’t going to, are you?” 

“No.” 

Callie hasn’t really come to any decisions yet, but she’s surprised that the decision to stay comes so easily. The encounter with Yala leaves her shaken and afraid for the future, but it does enough to make her think she should stay, whatever that may hold for her. 

“Thank gods,” she exhales. Callie knows that Junivere cares about her, but the relief in her voice is a welcome affirmation. “What changed?” 

“I…” Callie struggles to find the words. “So you know how Suul never speaks to me?” 

Junivere’s eyes widen excitedly. “She finally spoke?” 

“Not exactly… I… I met Yala.” 

Junivere sits up quickly, staring at Callie with an intense confusion. “Y-you met Yala? She appeared before you?” 

Callie explains the floating shards from the pool. “She took on an actual form to speak to me. It wasn’t just a disembodied voice.” 

“Callie,” Junivere grabs her shoulders seriously, “that’s… this hasn’t happened in… I don’t even know how long. This is rare, unfathomably rare. What did she say? What did she want?” 

“I don’t entirely understand, but she claimed that I’m her Devotia, not Suul’s.” 

“What!?” 

“That was my reaction.” 

“Yala doesn’t have Devotia. None of them do.” 

“According to her, she convinced Suul to grant her this,” Callie shakes her head and shrugs. 

“You’ve been giving out blessings from Suul. They’re indistinguishable from mine and every other Devotia. How is that possible? You can’t have been her Devotia this whole time.” 

“Think about it,” Callie tilts her head. “How else would we have two Devotia in Solva now? I don’t know if I’ve always been Yala’s Devotia, or if that’s new, but that’s what she called me.” 

“That’s… it’s impossible, Callie,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “I want to believe you, I do…. But you have to understand that this is impossible.” 

“It seems impossible to me too,” Callie rubs her face with her hands, enjoying the pressure. Despite being awake for so long, she doesn’t feel tired yet. “I thought I was dreaming for most of it.” 

Junivere stands up, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. She runs her hands through her hair, pulling at the various knots and tangles while she thinks. All of this feels so strange and foreign to Callie, goddesses like Yala and Suul were strongly disliked back in Rookwell, dismissed as overly-indulgent. But Junivere grew up with love for Suul’s pantheon, with a deep respect and adherence for the traditional rites and understandings of it. 

“I’m sorry, Callie,” she sighs after a while. “I don’t believe you. I can’t.” 

“I’m not sure I believe myself, if we’re honest.” 

“It just… it goes against everything we know about Suul and the Devotia. They’ve only ever been conduits for her will and no one else. If Yala is somehow muscling in, who's to say other goddesses aren’t as well?” She stops her pacing, crossing her arms tightly. “How do we know that this isn’t a ploy from a gifted and cunning mage, trying to undermine you?”

“This didn’t feel like a mage,” Callie defends. “It was completely different from the way that Suul’s magic feels. Even her blessing was different-,”

“She blessed you?” Junivere furrows her brow and frowns. “She doesn’t have the power to do that.” 

“That’s what I thought, too. But she definitely did, and she told me to go out and spread her blessings in the world.” Callie sits on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands, propped up on her knees. “She called me ‘Hal Devotia Yalania.’” 

Junivere returns to pacing for another few minutes, stern and quiet. Behind her eyes, Callie sees a hundred racing thoughts flash through her mind, rapidly investigating these claims against everything else she knows. 

“Look,” Callie says, interrupting the stormcloud of her thoughts. “I’m not asking you to believe me, June. I just need your help. I’m out of my depth here. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or want or know… you’ve been in this so much longer than me. There’s no one else I trust.” 

Junivere pauses and mulls over Callie’s words. “Okay,” she nods, releasing a tight breath. “Okay.” 

“Thank you,” Callie smiles weakly. 

“So you said she blessed you, and the magic felt different,” Junivere begins, turning her attention to problem-solving. “What happens if you cast a spell? Is your magic the same?” 

“I haven’t tried.” 

Callie stands up, stretching her arms out before returning them to a timid ready-position. She searches inward for the pool of magic within her, hunting down the warmth within her and trying to coax it out. 

“A simple ward,” Junviere directs. “You can do a standard Buune, right?” 

“Yeah,” Callie nods, focusing the energy into her palms. She extends her arms out to their full length, imagining a shield spreading out from them. After a moment the air nearby warbles and trembles, eventually pulling together to condense into a translucent and foggy disk, perpendicular to her hands. 

“That looks normal,” Junivere inspects. “How does it feel?” 

“It feels normal,” Callie says, straining slightly to maintain it. She was never a particularly gifted mage; Junivere could hold a ward like this without thinking, but it takes a great deal of effort from Callie. But, as the familiar pool of energy seems to run dry, Callie feels an altogether different sensation bubbling underneath. “Wait… there’s something else…?”

“Describe it.” 

“It’s… it feels cooler, more fluid,” Callie closes her eyes, focusing on the feeling. “It doesn’t bubble the way that magic normally does… it feels like… like butter spreading on toast?” 

“Butter on toast?” Junivere scowls. 

“It’s the only way I can think to describe it,” she giggles, only to let out a gasp a moment later. The warmth of magic holding her ward open collapses, quickly replaced by a slick rushing feeling of the cooler energy. It slides through her limbs, pouring over her and racing out of her palms.

The Buune ward shatters, suddenly breaking into thousands of curved and rounded shards of the watery-glass, exactly as Yala’s appearance in the mirror. They remain in formation, emerging from the center in an intricate, curved, spiral, all hovering millimeters apart from one another.  

“That’s new,” Junivere gasps, the color draining from her face. “I’ve never seen that before…” 

“This is exactly what Yala looked like,” Callie exclaims, marveling at the beauty of the shapes. “It’s magic, but it feels entirely different from anything I’ve ever felt before.” 

“Yeah,” Junivere gulps, stepping closer to inspect it. She lifts a hand and places it onto the solid, shattered ward, where the magic blocks her from moving forward. Rather than the firm, unbending force of a typical Buune ward, this new form is elastic and compact; it bends softly under the pressure of Junivere’s fingers, only to bounce back and expel them. 

“It’s so much easier to maintain,” Callie remarks. “I don’t feel tired at all.” 

“Gods,” Junivere shakes her head in disbelief, “I’m starting to think you might not be making this shit up… This is an entirely different mode of magic. Not just a different form, or different technique. The entire basis for this is fundamentally different.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means Yala might actually be stepping forward as a source of magic, not just a refraction of Suul,” Junivere holds her breath for a long moment, exhaling it slowly. “You can drop the ward.” 

Callie relents, letting the glassy shards slowly dissipate into the air. “You believe me?” 

“I’m not sure I could choose not to,” she sits back down onto the bed, shrugging. “Whatever that was… that’s new.” 

Junivere lays back, staring up at the ceiling with a thoughtful, baffled expression. Callie sits down beside her, laying a soft hand on her arm and stroking it reassuringly. She gives her friend some time, letting her process and try to come to terms with this new reality. 

“So Yala is acting in the world now…” Junivere summarizes. “She’s bestowing magic, she’s anointing Devotia… what does this mean?” 

“People keep telling me I’m a Devotia bringing change,” Callie smirks. “I’m not sure that this is what they were thinking about.” 

Junivere smiles. “Hal Devotia Yalania…” 

“Hal Devotia Suulvavi,” Callie replies.