CH 1: The Girl Who Watched the Sky
In a rundown village, many people are starting to gather in the plaza, beyond the village’s southern gate, a towering cliff overlooked the endless wasteland and upon its edge stood a small girl, silent against the vast horizon.
“Hey, Isla! Isla! The Grand Saintess is coming to our village! Can you believe it!?”
Tod, a young boy around Isla’s age, came running toward her, his voice brimming with excitement. He found her at her usual spot, standing quietly on the edge of a cliff, gazing at the endless blue sky above. The wind brushed past her, making her white hair flutter like strands of silk, but her expression didn’t change. Her grey eyes remained distant and calm, reflecting the sky she seemed to endlessly watch.
“...Sky,” Isla replied softly, her tone flat and detached.
Tod blinked in confusion. He should have expected that answer, Isla was always strange, after all.
Everyone in the village knew her story. Her parents had been killed by bandits not long after she was born. It was the elder of their current village, an old friend of her parents, who discovered the aftermath. Amid the ashes and ruin, he found a single survivor: a baby girl with pale grey eyes, lying silently in a bloodstained towel. She wasn’t crying, not even frightened. On the edge of the towel, her name was embroidered, 'Isla'. Then, the elder took her in and raised her as his own.
When Isla turned four, she was old enough to help around the house, but everything she touched seemed to end in disaster. Plates shattered, laundry went missing, and the floor was often messier after she “cleaned.” Eventually, the elder asked her to help with farming instead. But even then, Isla would simply stare at the sky, lost in thought, her hands idle.
The elder’s family began to resent her. Times were hard, and there are too many mouths to feed. The pressure grew until, at last, the elder was forced to send her away.
Yet Isla didn’t cry. She didn’t even frown. She simply walked into the nearby forest and disappeared for days. When she returned, she carried fish skewered on sticks, roasting them quietly near the cliff overlooking the desert wasteland. Children, drawn by the smell, gathered around her. Isla shared her food without a word. Sometimes she brought back boar meat or fruits no one had seen before.
Because of her, the villagers survived harsh times, and the very people who once wished her gone began to silently thank the strange, expressionless girl who kept them alive.
“You’re weird as usual, what's with the 'sky' anyway?” Tod said with a grin, scratching his head. “Well, I’m heading to the plaza! You enjoy your sky watching, haha!”
As he ran off, Isla’s gaze never wavered from the sky. The wind whispered past her once more while above, clouds drifted gently, free, weightless, unbound.
Back in the Plaza, Grand Saintess Cateleya arrived. Her presence was serene yet commanding—kind and graceful, yet distant, almost untouchable. Her expression was calm, though a faint sternness lingered in her gaze. She walked with quiet dignity before taking a seat at the edge of the dried-up fountain in the center of the square.
Behind her followed two figures.
The first was Lady Valerica Sterling, the current Sword Saint, known for her bright smile and warm demeanor. Despite her title as one of the most skilled warriors alive, her cheerful nature made her beloved among the people.
Beside her walked Pryce Hastus, the current Spear Saint. His loose posture and constant yawning gave the impression of someone utterly uninterested in formality, yet few doubted his strength.
“Bring the children here,” Cateleya said softly. “I will look upon their fates.”
The village elder, uncertain of the Grand Saintess’s purpose but too respectful to question her, nodded immediately. None in the village doubted the Grand Saintess; she had protected humanity for over a thousand years. Her words were law.
As the villagers gathered, Pryce leaned closer, speaking in a low voice.
“Cateleya… are you sure that kid is really here?”
“Pryce!” Valerica hissed, glaring at him. “Mind your manners! You can’t address her so casually!”
Pryce only shrugged, stifling another yawn.
Cateleya sighed quietly. “Enough. Both of you, remember your titles. Saints must act with grace, not bicker like children.” Her eyes softened slightly, though her tone remained composed. “And to answer your question, Pryce, yes. The prophet foresaw it.”
Pryce frowned. "I still can’t believe it. Even the spirits of the gods couldn’t perceive something like this, and yet we’re relying on the words of an old man?”
“The prophet is no ordinary old man,” Cateleya replied calmly. “He has long served under the Saints, though his duties lie elsewhere, guiding us when uncertainty arises.” Her gaze drifted upward, her voice softening. “I am grateful for his counsel… especially now, when the war keeps tilting in favor of the evil gods.”
A heavy silence fell over the plaza as her words lingered in the air. Even the wind seemed to still, awaiting whatever destiny was about to unfold.
Then, their conversation was cut short when the village elder hurried back into the plaza, a group of children following closely behind.
“Grand Saintess, here are the children of our village,” he said, bowing respectfully before gesturing for the children to step forward.
The little ones gathered before Cateleya, some shy, some excited, others beaming with pride at the chance to meet the Grand Saintess herself. Cateleya smiled gently at them, her expression soft and motherly.
One by one, she placed her hand upon their heads, closing her eyes as she quietly searched for what she sought, a child blessed with white mana, the purest and rarest form of divine essence.
Minutes passed. When she finally withdrew her hand, her calm expression deepened into quiet thought. “Elder,” she said softly, “are you certain these are all the children in your village?”
The old man hesitated, scratching his beard. “Hrmm… well, there’s one more. But she’s quite the peculiar one. Always on the cliff outside the village, staring at the sky and that desert wasteland. She doesn’t live inside the village anymore though.”
Before Cateleya could reply, a familiar voice chimed in. “Oh, oh! Isla! I can take you to her if you want!” Tod said eagerly, grinning from ear to ear.
Cateleya turned toward her companions. “Valerica, Pryce, bring the girl here,” she instructed.
Pryce sighed, folding his arms. “Wait, seriously? It’s just one girl. She’s probably a dud anyway.”
Valerica’s cheerful demeanor vanished as she shot him a glare. “Pryce Hastus! Watch your tongue! Lady Cateleya gave you an order, not a suggestion. If you spent half the effort following orders as you do yawning, maybe you’d remember what discipline looks like.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine…” Pryce groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Valerica snapped, before turning to Tod with a smile. “Lead the way, young man.”
“Y-Yes, Lady Valerica!” Tod said, puffing out his chest proudly as he led them toward the cliff.
Reluctantly, Pryce followed after them, muttering under his breath, “I swear, prophets and their wild goose chases…”
