The Goddess, Freiyan (1)
Goheng Peak. A rocky summit thrust upward from the flatlands. A miracle created by the first Saintess. Though it had been pushed into the shadows by the discovery of other holy sites, there was a time when priests and nuns would often climb it in search of ascetic discipline.
Sob...
As the distance to Goheng Peak shrank, the voice in Nasha’s ears grew sharper. Beyond the call that had drawn her here, she could hear someone crying.
‘Arni!’
The instant she recognized the voice’s owner, Nasha poured on more speed. For hundreds of years the peak had refused to erode beneath the savage sea winds, and even this torrential rain could not shake it. Water poured down the jagged stairs like a waterfall. As always, the steps showed zero consideration for anyone trying to climb them.
She let out a short breath. This was nothing like the old days when she had tried scaling it as a joke and tumbled straight back down. Nasha bounded up the stairs. She never doubted that Arni had truly made the climb. A voice that familiar would not lie.
“Arni! Are you here?”
Swallowing the breath that had climbed all the way to her throat, Nasha scanned the summit. At a glance she saw only a handful of trees thick with leaves that seemed out of season for the peak.
Here.
She whipped toward the largest tree. Beneath it, Arni lay curled into a tight ball.
“Arni!”
Pressing her ear close, she caught the faint sound of breathing. The girl’s body, however, was ice-cold. Nasha stripped off her coat and draped the still-dry inner lining over her.
She had just hoisted Arni onto her back and was about to start down when she froze, eyes sweeping the area. Now that she had found the child, reason was slowly returning.
‘Who does the other voice belong to?’
As though it sensed her worry, the voice echoed inside her head once more.
Isn’t that the least important thing right now? We will meet again later. Right here.
After that, no further voices came. There was no time to linger. Feeling the tiny shifts against her back, Nasha began the descent.
Above the tree where Arni had lain—the one Nasha had turned away from—a woman’s bare legs peeked from between the leaves, swaying gently in the air and scattering golden starlight downward.
‘So we finally meet, child.’
“Where on earth did Nasha run off to?”
Raksha, returning from the village after searching for Arni, raked a hand through his hair at Miria’s report. Ever since the girl had nearly suffered a grave injury in childhood, he had forbidden anyone from setting foot there. Neither Nasha nor the other children went near it, so the path had fallen into disrepair. Raksha quickly set aside his regret and moved on to what needed doing.
“Miria, stay here. I’ll go.”
“I’m coming too.”
Raksha gently pushed Miria back into her seat as she rose.
“You need to remain. The weather’s turned even worse. Someone has to watch the children.”
“But…”
She refused to yield easily. What finally stopped her were the children themselves. Little Arsen in particular, face crumpled as though he might burst into tears at any moment, clung desperately to her clothes. Seeing their expressions, Miria sank back down. Once she had collected herself, she offered the children a soft smile.
“Go carefully. And be sure to bring her home.”
Raksha nodded, shrugged his still-dripping coat back on, and opened the door. Fierce wind and flying leaves burst into the building. He was about to step out and close it behind him when he stopped short. Miria and the children, unable to see past his massive frame, peered around him—
“Thank you for getting the door.”
The person they had all been so worried about had returned.
“I wasn’t sure how I’d manage it while carrying Arni.”
With Arni still on her back.
Bang. The wind slammed the door shut in the sudden silence. Nasha, who had just passed the coat-wrapped child to Raksha, flinched at the noise.
“Wow, what the hell is up with this weather? Feels like the whole building might come down.”
‘Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say.’
Feeling the heavy atmosphere, Nasha tried to lighten it and awkwardly checked Raksha and Miria’s expressions. A beat later, a storm of thoughts swept through both adults’ minds. Nasha standing there soaked like a drowned rat. The countless scrapes and scratches covering every visible inch of her skin. There were many things they wanted to say, yet the words that finally left their lips on a long, shared sigh were the same.
“Thank goodness.”
“I’m so relieved.”
Even after the words ended, their long sighs of relief continued. That was how deep their worry for Nasha and Arni had run.
“You really… Are you going to keep pulling stunts like this!”
At some point Miria had begun looking her over. Raksha, meanwhile, was carefully checking Arni’s condition in his arms.
“Wow, shit. I seriously thought I was going to die. When my foot slipped on the way down I figured that was it, but luckily I’d almost reached the bottom. And what’s with the weather, seriously…”
The sensation of having made it back. Nasha’s mouth spilled out the entire sequence of events from searching for Arni until her return. Once she finished her somewhat jumbled tale, she grinned at the two adults.
“Pretty cool, right?”
The moment the words left her, Nasha’s body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Nasha!”
She opened her eyes and tried to bolt upright.
“Where am I?”
It was something she had always wanted to try. Unfortunately, the only part Nasha managed was the “opened her eyes” portion. The instant she tried to sit up, a spike of agony greeted her.
“Ugh.”
The fact that the scream she swallowed kept her from delivering her cool line was just extra salt in the wound.
“Nasha?”
Miria cautiously poked her head through the cracked door. She carried a basket of water and a cloth. Only then did Nasha notice the cool damp towel resting pleasantly on her forehead.
“Ow.”
With Miria’s help she finally managed to sit up, leaning back against the headboard.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You can stay lying down.”
The gentle voice felt familiar. It had been a long time—back before she had even become an apprentice nun, when she had been bedridden with a cold. After that, most of the words she heard from Miria had been scolding about her behavior. Feeling that warm concern again after so long, the corners of her mouth lifted on their own.
“Feels nice.”
“Try collapsing again and I’ll show you exactly what happens.”
Despite the threat, Miria’s face remained soft.
“You really don’t need to lie back down?”
“Really.”
It was the truth. The first attempt had been too abrupt. As long as she moved carefully, the pain stayed manageable.
“Anyway, how’s Arni?”
Watching Nasha ask about the child first, Miria let out a small laugh.
“You should worry about yourself. You were wrapped around her so tightly when you came back.”
Miria reached out and smoothed Nasha’s tangled hair.
“She’s perfectly fine. No injuries, no fever, no cold.”
“That’s possible?”
Nasha had shed her coat halfway down, and she herself could already feel the chill of an oncoming cold. Hearing that Arni was completely unaffected left her genuinely surprised.
“Do you have any idea how much everyone worried because of you? You suddenly collapsed and stayed unconscious for two whole days.”
“Two days?”
‘Did I really push that hard?’
At the time her blood had been up and she hadn’t noticed, but thinking back now, racing up and then back down that steep peak in such a short span… It would have been strange if she hadn’t overdone it.
‘The peak…’
The conversation from yesterday—no, it was already two days ago—floated back to her.
“Have you ever been to Goheng Peak?”
“The director went once. Did you leave something behind?”
At Nasha’s question, Miria’s brown eyes drifted toward the sky outside the window. She was remembering what Raksha had told her after he returned.
“Was there no one there?”
“People? He said there wasn’t even a single ant, let alone a person.”
Miria gently dabbed the sweat from Nasha’s forehead with the cool towel.
“Is something wrong?”
“I heard a voice.”
“The one you mentioned before.”
Miria remembered the words Nasha had spoken right before she ran off.
“I need to go see.”
Nasha tried to rise from the bed. Miria firmly pushed the stubborn girl back down.
“Stay here for now. I’ll be right back.”
After laying a freshly dampened towel on her forehead, Miria closed the door behind her.
The voice. Fragments of golden divine power. Goheng Peak. A holy site created by the first Saintess. Even with only what Miria knew, the clues pointed in one clear direction. To someone who believed in the Goddess, they could only mean one thing.
“So how is she?”
“She claims she’s fine, but she couldn’t even resist when I pushed her back down.”
Both of them knew Nasha’s monstrous strength didn’t match her slender frame. They could tell her body was still far from recovered.
“But that’s not the real issue.”
The story Miria had relayed. The divine power Raksha had glimpsed in the past—so faint he had nearly missed it. The traces he had seen at the summit of Goheng Peak were unmistakably the same.
Raksha’s thoughts spun, weaving the circumstances together.
‘Then the owner of that divine power is…’
“It seems the moment I spoke of to Nasha has arrived.”
“As expected.”
Only two days remained in the deadline. An opportunity that had appeared as though by fate. A small ripple stirred in Raksha’s heart—the heart that believed in the Goddess yet remained skeptical of the word “destiny.”
“Not today. The hour is already late, and her body isn’t fit for climbing. Tell her to stay in bed without moving for at least another full day.”
Raksha gazed at the sun that had crested its peak and begun to sink, then gave Miria the instruction. She seemed to share his thoughts; she left the room without argument.
Raksha crumpled the paper whose ink had bled from being pressed too long. It was the reply he was supposed to send to the church. He had been pondering what words would allow Nasha to keep her position as an apprentice nun, but now an entirely different worry gripped him.
‘What should I even write?’
It might be premature, but Raksha was already certain.
‘When was the last time a true Saintess appeared…?’
Hundreds of years had passed since the true line of Saintesses was severed and the church began parading fakes before the people. The fragile peace between humanity and the demon realm—thin as ice—seemed to be waiting for the moment it would finally shatter.