Elestia lay quietly on the hospital bed, her breathing even, her skin pale against the soft glow of the Great Wizard Hospital's holy lamps. The silver runes beneath her bed pulsed faintly — signs of a completed healing ritual.
"She's fine," said High Priest Yulio, adjusting his spectacles as he glanced at the faint scar tracing Elestia's collarbone. "Nothing serious, though her mana circulation was nearly ruptured. She'll need rest."
He paused. His brow furrowed."But… I'm curious about something. Where is her Spirit Fairy?"
Diego, standing nearby with arms crossed, blinked. "What do you mean by that, Priest Yulio?"
"You know how priests are sensitive to spiritual entities. No matter how faint, we should sense the bond between a saint candidate and her spirit. Yet with her…" His voice trailed off. "There's nothing. No whisper, no trace. Not even a residual tether."
Diego frowned. Her fairy… missing? That was impossible. Every saintess-class mage was bound to one.
Yulio's mind raced. Should I report this to His Holiness? Or keep it quiet? He could still feel the lingering holy aura surrounding her body — pure, refined, and impossibly vast. The kind that shouldn't belong to a mortal.
A normal person has around a hundred mana points, he thought grimly. An exceptional one — ten thousand. But this girl… she surpasses a hundred thousand.
The priest glanced at her sleeping face, calm and fragile. If that much power truly resides within her… who exactly is she?
The door creaked open. Clara entered first, elegant and composed as ever, dragging Prince Kiel behind her like an unwilling child.
'She must've scolded him again,' Diego thought with a suppressed smirk.
"Is she okay?" Kiel's voice cracked slightly, his eyes never leaving Elestia's still form.
Yulio turned, masking his turmoil. "She'll recover. The treatment was successful." He chose not to mention the missing spirit, nor the divine resonance in her body. Those secrets could break kingdoms if mishandled.
After a few minutes, the room emptied, leaving only Clara and Kiel. Silence hung between them until Clara finally asked, "You knew about the scars, didn't you?"
Kiel stiffened. "I did… but how she got them—" He hesitated, shame and helplessness twisting his expression. "She never told me. I didn't want to force her."
Clara's eyes softened, though her tone remained steady. "For a person to have scars that not even holy light can heal… it's not a wound. It's a curse."
"A curse?"
She nodded slowly. "In sacred theory, a curse of that nature is divine retribution — a punishment carried from one's past life. No matter how much holy energy you pour into it, it won't disappear."
Kiel's fists clenched. "Then she's suffering for something she doesn't even remember…"
"She's lucky to still be alive," Clara murmured, glancing at Elestia's sleeping figure. "Even the high priest's power couldn't completely purify her. The cuts healed — but the curse stayed."
A chill ran down Clara's spine — a suffocating presence pressing against her soul. Someone… was watching.
"Kiel, stay with her. Don't let anyone in," she whispered sharply, then hurried out, her hands trembling.
He's watching… that man. The thought alone made her shiver. I might lose my head this time.
Somewhere deep in the city, in a shadowed chamber, a figure knelt before a man with long black hair and crimson eyes that gleamed like fresh blood.
"My lord," the cloaked messenger reported, his voice hollow, "our investigation confirms it. Lady Elestia bears the Curse of the Thousand Swords."
The dark-haired man's expression didn't change. "Continue watching her. When the time comes, she will be the key to ending this endless war."
"As you command."
The messenger vanished, leaving the crimson-eyed man alone. His gaze softened — just barely."Elestia Ronin… your fate is crueler than you think."
Meanwhile, in the temple's inner sanctum, High Priest Yulio contacted the Pope through a holy mirror.
"Your Holiness," he said, his voice low, "the girl's condition… it aligns with the first prophecy."
The Pope's wrinkled face appeared in the shimmering light. His eyes were grave. "Then it has begun. The clock of destiny ticks once more."
"What are your orders?"
"Protect her," the Pope said firmly. "Tell no one — not even the royal family. She may be the salvation we need. But beware the Black-Haired Saintess. My instincts tell me she is not as innocent as she pretends."
Yulio froze. "You mean Lady Carmila?"
The Pope closed his eyes. "Yes. The second prophecy… speaks of her."
The old priest's heart thudded painfully as the ancient verses echoed in his mind — words recorded centuries ago.
She will return with a curse. On her back, a thousand swords of regret.Chased by nightmares, yet she will shine through endless night —the light for both man and demon.
But another shall arrive — cherished, pure.Beneath her innocence lies the seed of ruin.The vessel of Ashura, the end of light.
As the mirror dimmed, Yulio whispered to himself,"Two Saintesses… two destinies. One will save the world — the other will end it."
He turned toward the sleeping girl behind the warded glass window."Which one are you, Elestia Ronin?"