Jasper still looked like he was reeling, as if Cesio’s words had pulled the ground out from under him. He kept glancing between us, trying to piece together the cracks in the illusion. But I didn’t spare him a second thought. My purpose here had nothing to do with him.
I stepped past Cesio, my attention drawn to the statue that lood quietly.
The mont my gaze landed on it, I stilled.
Bathed in pale light, the marble stood pristine and untouched by ti. The Saintess Mirielle, robed in flowing garnts, her expression serene. Beside her, the majestic form of the Water Dragon, captured mid-motion, wings half-unfurled, as though guarding her for eternity and near their feet was the small boy with his eyes closed and hands joined in prayer to the Water Dragon. This boy must be Kai.
The sculptor had rendered them with such delicate precision, it almost felt as if the stone itself breathed.
The statue was beautiful—divine, even.
And yet, I found myself wanting to laugh.
Because the world had no idea.
Both the revered Saintess and the feared Water Dragon... were .
Two roles. Two masks. One truth buried deep beneath a thousand prayers and songs.
I never ant for them to build monunts in my na. I never wanted worship.
Still, I had to admit—it was masterfully made.
"It’s quite finely crafted," Davian murmured beside , his voice carrying a strange softness.
I humd in reply, not looking away. "Mm. They did well."
A hollow sort of pride tugged at my chest. They honored a mory, a myth... but not the person. The truth behind the stone was far more tangled, far more flawed.
But maybe that was for the best.
After all, legends live longer than people do.
"Lord Ace?"
I turned at the call, eting Jasper’s uncertain gaze.
"Yes, High Priest?" I asked, my voice calm.
"Are you... really... the Dragon?" His voice trembled, as though the words themselves dared not exist.
I smiled faintly. "That’s up to you to believe. I never ca here for you anyway."
Davian let out a quiet snort, amused. Jasper’s eyes flicked toward him in irritation before shifting back to , searching—perhaps for proof, perhaps for denial. But before he could speak again, Cesio placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Please don’t be suspicious, High Priest," Cesio said softly, as if soothing a wary child. "I can sense his divine power clearly. I, too, have received his blessing. I understand your caution after what the Temple has endured, but he is not a threat. He is our protector."
Jasper’s expression twisted with conflicted emotion. His lips pressed into a thin line, doubt still clouding his eyes. I didn’t bother addressing it. I had no need for his approval.
Instead, I turned to Cesio. "Your Holiness?"
He looked at imdiately. "Yes, Lord?" That sa quiet reverence lingered in his tone.
"About those who were arrested four years ago," I began, "were all of them burned at the stake?"
Cesio shook his head, a shadow of mory crossing his features. "No, Lord. So of them repented and were shown rcy. Even the previous High Priest—he confessed his cris publicly and was pardoned. His punishnt was significantly lighter."
Benedict. I had made him confess. Stripped him of the illusion of righteousness before the people, and made him confess of all the cris he and the ex-Pope committed. I had wondered if he might have been spared.
"Is he still around?" I asked.
"Yes. After completing a period of rigorous manual labor, he was reassigned to copying manuscripts of the Holy Scriptures. It was deed fitting for a man seeking penance."
I nodded. "Where is he now?"
"He should be in the study at this hour. Shall I lead you there?" Cesio offered politely.
Before I could answer, Jasper let out a quiet sigh.
"I shall lead them there," he said, the offer more resigned than gracious.
Cesio smiled, "Thank you, High Priest."
Even if Jasper was still filled with doubt, he hadn’t walked away. He was still choosing to walk beside us, and for now, that was enough.
With a slight nod, Jasper turned and began guiding us through the quiet halls of the temple, toward the study where Benedict was.
The study resembled an ancient library—walls lined with towering shelves, each groaning under the weight of thick, leather-bound tos. The scent of aged parchnt hung in the air, heavy and quiet. Golden lamplight flickered from oil burners mounted on the walls, casting shadows that danced across the spines of books and the figure hunched at a worn desk.
There, in the soft pool of lamplight, sat Benedict—ink-stained fingers moving with practiced precision as he transcribed onto yellowing scrolls.
"Brother Benedict," Jasper called gently.
The man at the desk looked up slowly. His features were drawn and gaunt, a far cry from the healthy, self-assured figure I had last seen four years ago. Ti had carved hollows into his cheeks and stolen the strength from his posture.
"You have guests," Jasper said, stepping aside.
Benedict’s brows furrowed as he tilted his head to see past him. When his eyes t mine, they widened—raw disbelief flashing across his face.
"Hello, Benedict," I said, stepping forward.
For a mont, he sat completely still, paralyzed. Then, like a dam breaking, emotion flooded him. His lips quivered, and he surged to his feet, knocking over his chair and scattering parchnt to the floor in his haste.
"Oh my! Oh my! Is—Is this true?... My Lord Dragon! I—Is it really you?"
His voice cracked with awe as he fell to his knees before , trembling. I smiled softly and crouched, lowering myself to et him eye to eye.
"It’s been a while," I murmured, "and I see you’ve been working hard."
His eyes welled up instantly. "I... I knew you would co one day..." His voice was soaked in relief and repentance as tears stread freely down his face, soaking into the stone floor.
I reached out and gently rested my hand on his head, ruffling his now-graying hair. He bowed it, weeping silently, and I let him have that mont.
"You kept my word and repented well," I said, "What would you like to do for you, Benedict?"
He looked up, face red and damp, lips trembling. "I—I want to be free of this life, My Lord..."
I smiled gently, my eyes softening. A silent choice rose before .
[Benedict Lovett asks to be free from his life. Would you like to bless him?
– Yes.
– No.]
"Yes," I thought without hesitation.
He had earned this peace.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, into that deep core of Dragon’s blood and power that lived in my heart.
"I, Reina Aurelius, scion of the Supre Aqua Dragon, bless you... that you shall be free from this life," I whispered, so low that not even Davian could hear it.
[Blessing Granted.]
A soft light blood around Benedict’s form, unseen by anyone but . It was faint and pure, curling around him like mist. His eyes were closed, hands clasped in prayer, his face serene as though he’d finally laid down a burden too heavy to bear.
Then, slowly, his body slumped forward into my arms.
"Wh—What happened?" Jasper gasped as I caught Benedict’s shoulders and eased him gently onto the ground, laying him flat with care.
"His punishnt is done," I said quietly, standing.
"I’ll cover his funeral costs," I added, brushing off my robes. "Arrange it."
I turned to Davian, ready to leave, but Jasper’s voice rose in shock behind .
"Wait—You killed him!"
The words were laced with accusation. That was all it took.
A silent ripple surged outward as my Dragon’s Presence unfurled like a storm beast loosed from its chains. It slamd into the room with suffocating pressure, curling like smoke around every stone, every breath of air. Both Jasper and Davian staggered beneath it, gasping.
Jasper clutched at his chest, his face reddening, his breath ragged and broken. Even Davian grimaced, the power weighing on him. But I lifted the Presence from Davian’s shoulders, leaving only Jasper in its grip.
"I can only handle this much disrespect, Jasper," I said coldly, my voice laced with fury. "One more word from you in that condemning tone... and you won’t have it anymore."
Jasper collapsed to his knees, still wheezing, as though the air itself had turned against him.
Only when I was satisfied did I retract the Presence completely, letting the room exhale again. I turned on my heel without another glance and strode away, my long coat sweeping behind like a tide.
I changed my appearance back to Ace D’Arc’s along the way as we headed back, letting out a slow breath while running a hand through my now black hair.
"Are you all right now?" Davian asked beside .
I massaged my temples, the headache still pulsing behind my eyes. The real storm hadn’t even begun—Celestia’s decision about the engagent with Rune still lood.
"Not quite," I mumbled.
He tilted his head. "Still mad that he disrespected you?"
I shook my head. "It’s not about the High Priest."
"Then what is it?" he asked, brows furrowing.
"It’s nothing," I deflected.
That only made him more curious.
"Co on, Master. You know you can tell ." He leaned closer, half-grinning like he was trying to lighten the mood.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "I might’ve caused a huge screw-up."
Davian’s eyebrows shot up. "What did you do?"
"It’s about the Young Duke and Celestia’s engagent."
He frowned. "What about it?"
"Celestia’s still unsure about going through with it."
"But she seed to enjoy her ti with the Young Duke at the festival," he said.
"She did. But she isn’t ready to let go of her ho or her nation," I explained. "She wants the Young Duke to give up his title and stay with her in Denril."
Davian whistled softly. "That’s... quite a bold request."
"He already rejected the engagent once when Duchess Konstantinos asked the sa of him."
Davian halted mid-step. I stopped as well, turning to face him.
"He what?"
I gave a little shrug. "He loves his family more."
Davian’s frown deepened. "So, will the engagent break? Wouldn’t that stir bigger trouble?"
He sighed and muttered, "And let just say this now—please don’t go arranging my engagent. I already have—"
"I know, I know," I said, cutting him off before he could finish.
His eyes widened. "You know?"
"I made a mistake arranging the Young Duke’s and Celestia’s engagent without asking them first. I’m not making that mistake again," I said, waving my hand dismissively and turning to keep walking.
"I’ll just wait for her decision tonight." I muttered.
"Well, tell what happens."
He gave a half-shrug and fell into step beside again.
We reached the chapel shortly after, where the ladies and Lyall were waiting. Davian and I parted ways there.
Only after I returned to my room and when I was nearly drifting off, did the mont co back to —
"Don’t arrange my engagent, I already have—"
"Already have... what?"
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