…

  It had been about a week since Vistilia had been born, and the child had shorn herself to be a true blessing. Leris didn’t really have any experience in raising children. So, when he found that his first daughter was the most low-maintenance child since every, he jumped for joy.

  He loved her. He loved her silver hair; he loved her blue eyes. She was the perfect accumution of both his and his wife’s traits. It made him so happy when she giggled at the games he pyed for her. She was truly a blessing.

  So, why did everyone look at her as if she was a demon?! On the fourth day of her life, people came to his home in the center of the city. The city that he lived in was rge. In fact it was the rgest city in the province.

  400,000 people lived in Fraellfae. He was the captain of the guard there, and because of that he was paid well by the state. The old stone and wooden structure that served as his home had been in his family for generations. In fact, when it had been built, it was on the outskirts of city, back then a simple vilge.

  The sun was shining, it was noon. The streets were bustling, he should have been at work, yet here he was. Sitting in his dining room that served as a kitchen as well, he stared at the people in front of him. He knew them both very well.

  He sat at his table, drink in front of him. His wife was sitting off to the side, she was finicking with something or other. What she was doing was of no importance right now. The two men in front of him were.

  One was a priest. His silver-colored robes and blindfold marked him as priest of Faericka, goddess of the moon and of the dead. His temple that he governed was one of the only ones in the city. The people of the city themselves weren’t the most religious in the republic.

  He looked to the other man, his grey hair and worn battle garments showed him to be the governor. As far as Leris was concerned, he was the most trust worthy man in the government. Maybe other than High Regent Terrence, son of Gaius.

  The Priest was named Keith son of Gareth. The other was named Marious, son of Cellia. The governor had no father, so that was why he was called a son of Cellia.

  “So, let me get this straight. You’ve heard rumors of the followers of Dwylixe chanting about a chosen one being born in a thunderstorm. My daughter was the only one that was born here, on a thunderstorm in the st three months. So you two think that because of that, we should kill her.

  He looked to the both of them, his patience quickly thinning. He had no time for this, and he made that known with the sigh that escaped his lips. He knew of the followers of Dwylixe, everyone did. It was the most common cult in the republic.

  Just so, he couldn’t let these people have his only child. It was simply nonnegotiable. Yet, he also just couldn’t tell them to go fuck themselves, now could he?

  “Ok, you can’t have her,” he said, looking down to the babe in his arms.

  She had been sleeping in his arms for the past hour. Yet now, she was wide awake. Her eyes glued to the new people in the room. her gaze was scared. Frighten, she gripped his finger that he put to her level. She seemed to rex when she did so, her face becoming more content.

  “You can’t have her. She is my only daughter, and it would break my hear to see her die. I have another pn,” Leris said, and all of the people in the room looked to him, even his babe of a child.

  The priest leaned forward. His brows knit. He spoke; his voice was curious.

  “What pn do you have? I have prayed on this manner and simple received nothing myself, so I am curious,” he said.

  “We bring her to the temple. We put her upon the altar of the moon, and see what comes of her. If the goddess Faericka sees her as an enemy of the republic, then she shall sleep and never again wake, if she is not, then she wakes,” he said, and the other two men leaned back while delving into thought.

  The baby in his arms, Vistilia, looked up at him. Currently, she had assumed him to be sane. Right now, she assumed he was insane, her opinion of him altered. Sure, she had seen Her, she who had made all. Yet, that was infinitely different to some random goddess of some random civilization.

  She had seen and heard about where she was currently living. It seemed to be a republic. The only republic in this pce, as far as the people knew of. It was somewhat sad. At least in her mind that had been grown and developed in 21st century earth.

  Her blue eyes locked onto her father’s and a concerned look came to him. he bent down to his p, where she y, and picked her up in his arms in truth. His face edged with worry.

  Her face, which had been covered in happiness, was now tinged with slight concern over his sanity. She truly didn’t know if he was alright. Sure, she might be in a civilization that hadn’t even figured out proper toilets yet, though she hadn’t thought that they were this superstitious.

  “I wonder, would that even work?” asked the governor, sitting up and repositioning himself in his seat, “if she is the champion of the crippled god, then she might be warry of her, and not do anything.”

  The priest looked askance at this, his gaze lingering on the other man. He was of course a priest of that particur order. He didn’t like that the governor calling his goddess a coward.

  “Now that is what I call bsphemy, my governor,” he said, and the warrior looked at him with a wince.

  “I believe my point stands,” he retorted.

  “Then let’s go and see for ourselves if she is a champion of a foreign god,” The child’s father spoke, standing up and making his way to the door.

  His wife looked on at this as the three men took her daughter to the temple. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts. Most of which pertained to what they had just discussed themselves. Wilma was still weak from carrying Vistilia for months.

  She had said little during the discussion, and none in the ter part. Yet she was confident that this was at least the path that would lead to her daughter not being killed, or at least dying peacefully.

  …

  ‘The fuck is wrong with these people?’ Vistilia asked herself as she y upon the ft stone altar.

  The three adults weren’t even there. It was simply her and the weird statue of this moon goddess. The statue itself was strange, it looked as though a sleeping woman was curled around a unborn fetus the same size as her. She was depicted floating above the ground, silken sheets covering her.

  The statue was surreal. The power and emotions that radiated off of it was strange. It was as if the statue itself was telling her that everything was going to be alright, all she had to do was sleep. Yet she couldn’t.

  She didn’t want to sleep, and that seemed to be enough for the statue of the death goddess for now. She looked around the temple. It was dark, maybe just dark enough to encourage feelings of tiredness, but not much else.

  The ceiling was tall, about 15 yards tall. The walls were bck, with arches of stone holding everything up. It reminded her of the temples of Rome and other old European cities.

  The floor was stone as well, nothing hiding the scuffs marring the floor. There was a tinge of respect there, in the back of her mind. It showed respect for the old and the past.

  Finally, after about 15 minutes of simply lying there, she heard something. It was strange, like a heartbeat but not quite. Like she was being held right next to someone’s chest. Then a voice called out.

  It was strange, to say the least. Like someone was talking aloud and in here head at once. The thought didn’t unnerve her, not much could when she had seen the stars and souls of heaven.

  “Sleep, newborn child of mine,” She said, for the voice was that of a woman’s, “when you wake, you shall be alright, better than alright some might say.”

  With that, sleep took the child. She closed her eye’s. Her breaths paced out evenly. Her mind darkened and entered the realm of dreams.

  …