Chapter 964 - 963: Through The Valley

White light bloomed beneath the Saintess’s palms.

It spread across the boy’s chest, illuminating the torn edges of his shirt. For a moment, the tiny wound disappeared beneath its brightness.

Sir Luke watched without breathing.

Then something black moved inside the light.

His brows drew together.

As the blessing pressed into the wound, the power of Simon’s Chaos Flame rose to meet it.

A narrow line climbed from the wound onto the Saintess’s finger. Another followed, branching across her knuckles. Their edges flickered like flames, rising from her skin before sinking into it again.

The white light pressed against them.

They kept spreading.

Across her fingers.

Over her hands.

Toward her wrists.

Luke’s stomach tightened. Every instinct recoiled from the darkness moving beneath her sleeves.

Do not touch it.

The warning was so strong that his hand stopped halfway toward her shoulder.

He felt that even he might die if those black lines reached him.

"Saintess?"

She did not answer.

Her eyes were shut. Sweat gathered upon her forehead, and a vein stood out at her temple. Her fingers pressed harder against the boy’s chest.

Luke reached forward again.

He had to pull her away.

But the words he had spoken only moments earlier returned to him.

Have faith.

She had been certain God had commanded her to resurrect the boy. Luke himself had urged her to obey.

Now he was about to interrupt her because he was afraid.

His gauntleted fingers closed around empty air.

’I have to believe in her.’

He lowered his hand without moving away.

The black lines reached her forearms.

———

The Saintess stood alone.

The village was gone. So was her trusted personal guard Luke.

Cold dust lay beneath her boots, stretching toward hills whose outlines barely stood apart from the darkness.

"Where am I?"

She turned.

There were no houses. No horses. No boy beneath her hands.

A faint light touched her face.

She looked up.

A black sun hung in the sky. Thin rays escaped its edge, giving her just enough light to see how empty everything was.

Valleys lay between the distant hills.

Something moved within one of them.

She narrowed her eyes.

At first, it looked like smoke rising along the slope.

Then the smoke spread sideways.

A low sound reached her.

Dragging feet.

Cracking bones.

The first figure stumbled over the ridge.

It was a corpse.

Its head hung against one shoulder, yet it ran with both arms reaching toward her.

More followed.

Some had flesh. Others were skeletons, their open jaws knocking with every stride. Pale, half-transparent figures slipped between them, faces stretched into silent screams.

Souls.

The Saintess took a step back.

Every valley was filling with them.

Black flames poured over the hills behind the running dead, swallowing the dim horizon. Wherever their feet struck, more fire erupted.

"No..."

She turned to find another way.

A line of fire raced past her boots.

Then the ground around her split, and black flames burst through the cracks.

Heat struck her face. The hem of her gown caught on fire, and pain climbed her legs before she could step clear.

"Ahhhh!!!"

She cried out.

Her hands slapped at the flames.

They passed through her fingers and burned deeper.

She could not smell cloth burning. Instead, she felt something inside herself fraying, as though the fire were consuming the strength holding her together.

The dead kept coming.

A skeleton fell and broke apart. Its hands continued crawling while the others trampled its ribs.

Above them, the black sun pulsed.

The Saintess dropped to one knee.

She tried to rise. Her leg failed beneath her, and another cry escaped as the flames tightened around it.

How could one little wound lead to this?

For several dreadful moments, she could do nothing but struggle to breathe. Even the names she wanted to call seemed to slip from her thoughts.

Then she remembered the voice.

Resurrect him.

Her teeth clenched.

"I will not be defeated by evil."

The words shook.

She brought her hands together anyway.

Then she closed her eyes.

"The LORD is my shepherd. I shall not want."

White light suddenly engulfed her.

The flames were driven from her gown and held beyond a thin, shining boundary. She drew a ragged breath as the burning inside her eased.

Beyond that light, thousands of feet struck the ground.

She continued.

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters."

A blade of grass pushed through the dust beside her knee.

Then another.

Green spread outward, covering the scorched ground. Black flames shrank wherever the grass reached them, vanishing beneath new growth.

Water gathered in the hollows.

Small pools widened into ponds. Farther away, a lake filled a shallow basin, and its surface was smooth beneath the dim sky.

For a moment, she could hear water instead of screaming.

Then the first corpse reached the grass.

Green blackened beneath its feet.

The creatures behind it tore through the fresh pasture. Bones cracked against stones hidden among the roots. Pale souls swept over a pond, and black flames spread across the water in their wake.

The lake began burning.

A body struck the white light around her.

Its face flattened against the barrier, its mouth opening wider and wider.

The light bent inward.

The Saintess’s joined hands trembled.

"He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake."

The radiance brightened.

Warmth moved through her chest, reaching the places the flames had damaged. The pain loosened enough for her to straighten her posture.

Light spread across the ground.

Dead grass rose green again. Saplings pushed upward, their branches unfurling into broad crowns. Clear streams ran between them, joining the ponds and widening the lake.

The fire upon the water broke into scattered patches.

The dead screamed.

Their charge became even more violent.

They clawed through the trees, snapping young branches. Skeletons dragged themselves from the streams with flames burning inside their ribs.

The shadow of the nearest hill lengthened until it covered the pasture.

Something vast was moving behind it.

The Saintess could feel it without opening her eyes.

She pressed her palms together harder.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

Gold appeared above her.

A golden rod stretched across the sky, growing until its shadow covered the approaching dead.

Then it descended.

BOOOOOM!!!!

The impact shook the world.

The first ranks vanished beneath it. Golden light burst outward, burning through black fire and tearing the shadow from the grass.

The rod swept forward.

Hills split.

Valleys broke open beneath its weight, their slopes collapsing upon the creatures still pouring from them.

The Saintess’s hair was lifted in the rush of displaced air.

Within the white light, she remained untouched.

Black flames clawed upward around the rod. Its golden radiance surged, consuming them before they could climb higher.

The screams began to fade.

She continued praying.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over."

A table appeared before her.

Four legs settled upon the grass without bending it. A simple bronze cup stood at its centre.

Golden liquid poured from empty air.

The cup filled.

Then overflowed.

Liquid ran across the tabletop and spilled over its edges in bright ribbons. Yet no puddle formed beneath it. The grass remained dry, every falling drop disappearing in a small gleam.

A gentle warmth touched the crown of her head.

The smell of smoke faded.

Beyond the table, the remaining dead tried to approach. Their steps slowed. Blackened fingers reached toward the pouring gold, only to crumble before touching it.

The Saintess spoke the final words.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."

Silver lines appeared in the air around her.

They met at corners, thickened into pillars, and joined beneath golden arches. Broad walls rose between them, bright and smooth, while tall windows opened toward the lake.

A staircase unfolded beyond the table.

Above it, balconies formed around a high hall. Silver leaves spread across the railings, and gold gathered overhead into a vaulted roof.

A mansion stood where nothing had been.

Light filled its open doors.

High above the roof, the black sun cracked.

The sound passed through the last of the screaming.

Another fracture crossed its face.

Then it shattered.

Dark pieces broke apart before they could fall, and a white sun shone in their place.

"Amen."

The Saintess opened her eyes.

The boy stood across the table.

His soul was pale and faint around the edges, but she recognised the dust-streaked face. He looked from the cup to her, his lips parted with confusion.

She felt no surprise.

Only a quiet happiness that made her smile.

"Drink from the cup. The Lord has saved you."

He stared at the golden liquid.

Then he reached for it.

The moment his fingers closed around the cup, the stream above it stopped. The overflowing liquid vanished from the table, leaving the vessel full.

He lifted it with both hands.

And drank.

Colour returned to his face. The faint edges of his body steadied, becoming whole beneath the sunlight.

The Saintess’s smile widened.

"Glory be to God."

The mansion dissolved like mist.

The lake, the grass, and the white sun followed.

———

She opened her eyes to the ruined village.

Sweat ran down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her arms ached, but the black lines were gone.

The boy drew a breath.

She felt his chest rise against her hands.

His eyes were open.

For several moments, he stared at her in confusion. Then his lips moved.

"Where... where am I?"

The Saintess smiled through her exhaustion.

"You’re in Miresti village," she said softly. "And you’re alive."