“Damn, I’m beat.” Eleanor stretches after finishing healing her adoring crowds.

She looks toward the downtrodden people in rags and scrunches her nose in disgust.

“Disgusting animals, the lot of them. I can’t wait to get off this planet.”

A little girl with a dirty face runs up to her with a bundle of wildflowers. Eleanor kneels down and kindly thanks her with a motherly smile.

The little girl laughs cutely and runs back to her giggling friends.

“Ms. Eleanor, I don’t get you,” Donna says from within. “You say one thing and do another. You delve into heresy to save these people, yet you grumble and complain the whole way. Everything you do is contradictory.”

“It’s called acting. Try it sometimes.”

“And which side of you is false and which is true, exactly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t you say it yourself that I’m rotten to the core? This whole saintly act is to serve a greater purpose. Kekeke!”

Eleanor snickers evilly before calling the attention of the crowd. She preaches to them the evil of Adrian Acker, the Devil, and how hatred is their greatest tool to defeat them.

Her eyes gleam when she feels the hatred pouring in.

“Yes, come to me, my pretties. Kekekeke! Mwa ha ha ha haaa!”

But as the sun arches across the sky above, more and more people arrive at the shantytown and Eleanor’s mood turns sour.

She has no trouble healing those with the sickness of the body, but when she has to deal with those with the sickness of the mind—listening to their sob stories makes her roll her eyes so many times they’re about to pop from their sockets.

She looks at the long line queueing up to meet her, and she has had enough.

“Screw this shit. I’m going home.”

“Wait, Ms. Eleanor, you can’t just up and leave these people here.”

“Why not? I’m not their therapist. I ain’t gonna deal with their emotional baggage.”

“It’s a priestess’s duty to nurture a man’s soul as well as his body.”

“Heretic—remember?”

“I have my doubts … Ms. Eleanor, I know it’s not my place to ask this of you, as you have already accomplished more today than what I could hope to do in a lifetime. And no one has the right to demand more of you than what you are willing to give. That being said, a few kind words from you may be all it takes for these people to keep on living and struggling in this unkind world.”

“Bah humbug. Since you care so much, then do it yourself. I’m going to take a nap.”

“Me?!”

Donna suddenly finds herself in control of the body. She tries to call out the Devil, but she gets the cold-shoulders.

“Huh! I’ll see how long you can last, freckles,” the Devil mocks and goes to sleep.

Hours later, when the Devil wakes up, she sees a sea of people singing hallelujah with tears of joy streaming down their eyes. And at the center of them all is Donna, in the guise of Eleanor, leading them in their fervent prayer.

“Brothers and sisters, can you feel the Lord’s touch reaching down to you? Can you feel his love within the wind, within the earth, within the sun and sea?! Can you feel him inside you and around you and holding you with his warm embrace?”

“I can feel it! I can feel his love!”

“Brothers and sisters, praise the Lord for he is just and loving! Praise he who rules over the sun and stars and grant us this moment in time to prove our worth to him! Praise God! Praise God! Praise God! Praise God! Praise God!”

Donna raises her arms and face to the sky, as she leads the crowd into a zealous chorus. Their crazed chanting can be heard from miles away.

“I … may have created a monster.” the Devil decides it’s best to go back to sleep.

In the evening, when they return home, Amelia plops tiredly on her mother’s lap while Donna excitedly talks about the experience.

“Ms. Eleanor was wonderful! More than wonderful, she was a miracle! I know now that she is a gift God bestowed upon our world and it is my duty to stand beside her and help guide her to the right path,” Donna says with wide, unblinking eyes.

Declan and Tessa inadvertently take a step back from the girl. While Duchess Gilda encourages her to tell about what Amelia has been up to all day.

Professor Declan circles around to ask Amelia if she could convince the squatters to move elsewhere.

“Their presence here in the last several months has upset the locals … Not to mention they’re bad for the property value.”

“You lazy bastards could’ve rounded them up and gassed them all while I was gone. Now that I’m back, those dirty mongrels are my responsibility, is that it?”

“It appears that way.”

“Shit.” Amelia rubs her pounding forehead. “Fine. This wouldn’t be the first time I have to care for an entire village, as long as they don’t multiply overnight.”

“About that …” Declan looks away. “It’s best you rest up tonight, master. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”

For the next several days, Eleanor visits the other settlement set up near Mellow Bay. The people consist of the sick, the poor, migrants, and other people drawn in by the tales of the silver angel.

The Amelia half of Eleanor focuses only on healing and allocates the spiritual aspects to Donna. Together, they work surprisingly well as a single whole—a kind and all-powerful priestess with bottomless patience and grace. Her hands heal the sick and her words lift them from the gutter. Where she walks, the people bow, and whatever she touches becomes a holy object worthy of worship.

In time, her holy name spreads far and wide, and more and more pilgrims come to worship at her feet.

“Master, didn’t you promise you’d convince these squatters to move somewhere else?”

“I’m working on it.”

“I don’t mean to be impertinent, but my retirement is tied to the property value around these parts.”

“I said I’m working on it!”

As Amelia racks her brain, time marches ever forward, until it’s time for Umber Tower to resume class.