Usually, Ceres would visit Snow whenever she had free time, but their conversations didn’t always revolve around specific topics. More often, they exchanged rather insubstantial dialogue about what they had done that day or what prayers they had offered. Nevertheless, Snow always felt a sense of calm just being in Ceres’s presence.

Today, however, Ceres brought up something rather special.

“My Saint. Can you believe there was a time when the temple’s power was stronger than that of the imperial family?”

Ceres Martadia spoke while gazing wistfully out the window, as if reminiscing about the past. In truth, the “time” she was referring to was more than 40 years ago. It was from an era when Martadia, who is now Ceres, was even younger than Snow is now.

“Are you referring to the time when the goddess’s revelations came frequently?”

Since this was obviously long before Snow was born, Saint Snow spoke as if reciting a passage from a history book. Despite being born as a saint, Snow had never once received a revelation, and to her, the goddess Amir seemed to be merely an observing presence. It was hard for her to imagine that there was once a time when the goddess actively provided revelations.

“Yes. The temple and the imperial family worked hand in hand, and the temple had a powerful order of holy knights that rivaled the emperor’s knights. Today’s holy knights are merely a ceremonial military group. The Ceres of that time wasn’t me. She was a wiser, more experienced person.”

This too was difficult for Snow to imagine. The only Ceres she knew was the beautiful Martadia standing before her.

“It was when I was fifteen, no, perhaps sixteen years old. One day, the goddess’s revelations suddenly stopped coming. After a few years, some began to question the existence of the divine, and naturally, the temple gradually became subordinate to the imperial family. ‘Ceres,’ who had once been a figure that even the emperor could not easily challenge, became someone whose position could be threatened by a single word from the emperor. As the assistant to Ceres at that time, I watched her and sometimes felt resentful and bitter, as if the goddess had abandoned her children.”

It was hard to believe that Ceres, who seemed like someone who had never lost her composure in her entire life, had once harbored resentment toward the goddess. Martadia elegantly sipped her tea. The fresh aroma of tea leaves spread faintly through the rising steam.

“For me, the previous Ceres was both a mother and a mentor. In fact, even now, I’m doing my best to emulate her. Even when the revelations stopped, she acted in a manner befitting Ceres.”

“…How did she act?”

Ceres is the highest position among the priesthood of the goddess. In a way, during that time before the saint was born, one could say she was the person closest to the goddess. If the goddess’s revelations, which had always come to such a Ceres, suddenly stopped one day, Snow wondered if she had been in that position, would she have worried like the young Martadia that she had been abandoned by the divine?

“She remained completely unchanged from before the revelations stopped. Both in her actions and in her mindset toward the divine. As if she had known everything in advance, she calmly and silently continued to fulfill her duties. But I, standing beside her, struggled for years, unable to completely shake off the resentment toward the goddess that lingered in a corner of my heart.”

A priest, the person who serves the divine most closely, resenting their own deity. How painful must that have been? Snow pondered this as she listened to Ceres.

“She passed away not long after the one-year calamity began. She had already been suffering from a long illness, and she couldn’t adapt to the sudden abnormal weather. As you know, the position of Ceres is inherited by the person chosen by the previous Ceres. There is no right of refusal. When she chose me from her sickbed, I couldn’t understand it at all. Because she was aware of my inner struggle.”

Snow felt guilty listening to Ceres’s story. She had always thought that the Ceres she knew had been a complete person like this since her very early years. It felt like secretly reading the childhood diary of a grown adult.

“After passing her position to me, she quietly, in her own way, returned to the embrace of the goddess. And not even a few months later, I received the goddess’s revelation for the first time in 20 years.”

It was truly a lengthy revelation. The goddess’s fire rose fiercely and brilliantly, as if it would burn away even the calamity. The stone tablet on which the goddess’s revelations were engraved had not been used once in 20 years, and the letters engraved long ago had formed smooth grooves. The goddess’s fire consumed it whole. Ceres Martadia tried to act composed, but in the face of the unbearable brilliance, she eventually bowed her head. When she opened her eyes, a new revelation was engraved on the tablet, deeply and roughly, as if it would cover all the small, polished letters. It was an unprecedentedly long revelation that filled the entire large tablet.

Even now, Martadia could recite the introduction of that revelation without missing a single word.

—She shall be born. One who will receive my breath shall be born.
Her breath is my breath,
Her smile is my smile,
Her anguish is my anguish.
If she wishes to embrace the world, it is my will.
If she wishes to turn away from the world, it is my will.
If she wishes to punish the world, that too is my will.

No one doubted that this signified the advent of the saint. The rest described in relatively detail where the saint would be born and her characteristics. It was not just unusual; it was extraordinary.

The words of the divine had typically been conveyed to humans in vague and abstract terms. Never before had such a long revelation been given, nor had the goddess’s words been described in human language with such detail.

It was as if the goddess was worried, considerate, and in a way, fearful that the foolish humans might not find the saint.

“As soon as the saint was born, the calamity stopped. I could finally be certain that the goddess had not abandoned us. The position of Ceres demands absolute faith in the divine, and in that sense, I am disqualified.”

Ceres Martadia smiled gently as Snow waved her hand, saying that was not true at all.

“Since the saint has decided to bring light to the lowly, isn’t that also the will of the goddess?”

Looking at Ceres speaking thus, Snow hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Actually, there’s something I’d like to ask of you regarding that.”

“What is it?”

“As you said, I am the saint. I’ve never really felt it properly, but if the goddess has appointed me as her representative, then I suppose that’s what I am. If my mere existence can be a hope for someone, I think I should at least show myself to the world more for their sake. Hiding in the Santarium won’t allow me to properly help anyone.”

Ceres sensed that Snow had been growing rapidly since her coming-of-age ceremony.

“So, how would you like to show yourself to the world?”

“There’s a service held once every ten days for the general public, isn’t there? I’d like to participate in that.”

Ceres smiled gently, waiting for Snow’s further explanation.

“Given my constitution, I think I need more preparation before doing anything more than that… I’d like to start that way for now. Even if I just take charge of the closing prayer of the service, wouldn’t that be much better than being cooped up in the Santarium?”

Snow looked at the silent Ceres with slightly anxious eyes. Ceres finished the rest of her tea. Then she spoke.

“You have truly become an adult, my Saint.”

Did that mean she was giving permission? Snow was a bit tense as Ceres’s soft, low voice continued to reach her ears.

“I don’t have the authority to stop the saint’s wishes. If that’s what you wish to do, then of course you should do it.”

It was permission. No, Ceres was saying that there was no need to seek permission in the first place. The saint’s will is the goddess’s will. Who would dare to stop what the saint wishes to do? Snow broke into a delicate, butterfly-like smile of joy. But Ceres continued.

“You don’t need to ask me about everything. Do what you’ve decided to do, and if there’s something you want to do, do that as well. It’s the goddess’s will. I merely follow. Just be careful enough not to get hurt if you’re going to do something dangerous. Because you are the most precious one.”

At the mention of “something dangerous,” Snow recalled her secret outing with Elios outside the temple a few days ago.

‘Surely Ceres doesn’t know about that?’

A glance at Ceres showed her still wearing her angelic smile.

‘That can’t be possible. We didn’t encounter anyone on our way out. She must have just meant to be careful in whatever I do.’

Snow tried to convince herself as she smiled back at Ceres.

♣ ♣ ♣

There was a nanny who had taken care of Elios since he was young. Her name was Prevaka.

She was a woman who had never left Elios’s side from the time he was just born and beginning to hold his body steady. In some ways, she was closer to Elios than the empress, his mother. On the surface, their relationship was similar to that of Saint Snow and Priestess Arianne.

On a bright spring day when the gentle breeze brushed the ground, thirteen-year-old Elios was nearly poisoned by his trusted nanny Prevaka.

Elios was more shocked by the fact that it was his nanny who had poisoned his tea than by the fact that he had nearly died. He thought there must have been some misunderstanding. So he begged his father, whose expression had turned cold, for days on end, pleading with him not to kill his nanny. The emperor looked at Elios, who was imploring him, with a rigid expression like a stern sculpture.

On the day of her execution, Elios, with a dazed expression, was practically dragged by knights to the place where the guillotine stood.