She woke up normally. Her body moved with familiar rhythm. A habit shaped by years of devotion. She cleaned her room. She washed herself with the chilled morning water. She kneeled and prayed.
Then came breakfast, plain and filling. A second prayer followed, though her mind strayed halfway through it.
She served the temple with practiced efficiency. Sweeping corridors, tending to the sick who came for "blessings", preparing candles for the evening rites. And in between each task, another prayer. Not out of desire, but out of duty. Something she knew she should feel more of.
She spent the afternoon in the town, as she often did. Carrying food to the poor. Giving out salves she’d learned to make. She was good at helping. It felt right. But each good deed no longer felt tied to the temple.
Yes, she woke up normally and did everything normally, yet so did the thoughts from yesterday.
By the time night draped the city in quiet shadows, Selene was tired but not from her work. It was her thoughts. The ones that had also awakened yesterday. They hadn’t left. They whispered in the corners of her mind, tugging gently at the seams of her beliefs.
Could she still serve the temple while carrying these doubts? Could she even put her heart into it anymore? And if not… should she just walk away? The question haunted her as she lay in bed, staring at the stars through the high window.
She didn't need the temple to help people. She had hands. She had strength. She had will. So what was she still clinging to? No answers came. Just the stars.
She closed her eyes, whispered a prayer she wasn’t sure she meant, and drifted into uneasy sleep.
---
She woke up normally. Like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.
She cleaned her room. Prayed. Ate a modest breakfast. Thanked the God. Served the temple. Prayed again. And went into the town to do good acts.
The thoughts that had stirred two days ago began to dim, like a dust swept away. The whispers of doubt quieted beneath the repetition. After all, what could she even do, truly? She was one woman. One body. One voice. The temple was vast. Ancient. Powerful.
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If she could use it to help others, then maybe that was enough. Even if its foundations were more legend than truth, more politics than faith. Wasn’t the result the same?
That day, she found herself called to a small medical tent in the square. A man had fallen from scaffolding, unconscious and battered. Selene knelt beside him, washing the wounds, whispering the standard prayer, fingers lightly touching the bruised skin.
It was supposed to be a routine work, mechanical. Until it wasn’t.
A shimmer—no, a glitter—like lights reflected by water, danced across the man’s broken legs. Selene’s breath caught. Her eyes widened. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then it was gone.
She leaned in, wiping at his skin, searching for the wounds. But there were none. No bruises. No cuts. Not even scars.
She poked the man's legs lightly. The flesh beneath was whole and unbroken. He stirred in his sleep, but didn’t grimace like before. The pain that had contorted his face had vanished.
Selene sat back, stunned. She looked around. The tent was silent. No one else had entered. Medical rituals like these were private, after all.
Her mind raced. What if the temple found out? What would they say? What would they do?
She felt the first pangs of panic until she looked back at the man. His breathing was easy now. His brow no longer furrowed.
And she smiled. For the first time in years, she smiled not because she should but because she felt it.
Maybe… maybe she could do things on her own.
Maybe she didn’t need old myths or titles to help people. Maybe she could just help and just help.
---
She woke up normally. She cleaned her room. Prayed. Had breakfast. Thanked the God. Served the temple. Prayed again. Did good acts in the town.
That day, like every other day. All was normal.
All was well. That was until the night fell.
When the streets fell quiet and lanterns were snuffed, when even the guards begin to get sleepy and the temple bells silenced for the night, Selene changed.
She pulled the black cloth from beneath her bed. It wasn’t a formal robe. It wasn’t blessed or recognized. But it cloaked her body, puts a veil in her face, and erased her silhouette in the dark allowing her to blend in the surrounding.
Then she slipped out. She never go through the front gates, always through the garden wall. She walked the alleyways of the town. Not as a guard nor as a priestess but as herself.
She visited the homes of the sick. The shunned. The quiet sufferers. Those who couldn’t afford “donations” for temple blessings. Who had been told they weren’t faithful enough, or useful enough, or rich enough.
She healed them in their sleep. A mother’s cough eased. A child’s fever cooled. An old man’s pain vanished long enough for rest.
And then, when her stamina waned and her hands trembled, she returned. Always through the garden. Never through the front gates.
Back in her room, she folded the cloth, tucking it away again. She knelt then prayed. Whispering thanks not to the God above, but to whoever heard her prayers.
And then she slept. Yes, all was normal. Until the sun sleeps.
Info Dump #9:
- The Temple's "healing" (More like medical) services are based on one's standing on the temple. Individual's standings can mostly be influenced by the amount of donation that an individual gives.