The morning sun seeped through silk curtains, painting lines of gold across the marble floor. Jinn sat upright in a high-backed chair, legs folded neatly, eyes fixed on the ornate tea set. Across from her, the Court Tutor—tall, severe, cloaked in deep blue—paced with precise taps of her cane.
The cane clicked sharply.
"Do not slouch," came the command, as Marelia passed. She didn't even look at Jinn. "A Saintess does not fold inward. She holds her spine as if bearing heaven itself."
Jinn straightened again.
"So many rules just to sit and breathe," she thought. Her back protested. Her mind drifted. "I miss the guild already."
Marelia turned.
"When addressed by a noble, you bow the head—not the body. Lowering the body implies submission. You are an envoy, not a servant."
Jinn dipped her head slightly. The motion was slow, practiced.
The tutor circled her like a hawk, pausing to adjust the white veil over Jinn's hair. Her hands were unexpectedly gentle, but her voice was steel.
"You learn fast. Rare. But even silence can be loud if done wrong."
Jinn's expression barely moved, but something flickered in her eyes.
"I'll remember," she said. "I don't plan to stay long."
The tutor paused.
"Few do. But the world watches you now. Walk wrong, and they'll say the gods regret choosing you."
---
Five days passed under Marelia's gaze.
Jinn learned how to sit, walk, breathe—how to be perceived. Every gesture had weight. Every mistake echoed.
By the fifth night, she fell face-first into the bed, veil half-off, shoes still on.
"I had no idea being a woman was this hard," she thought, groaning into the pillow. "Back when I was a man, life was logical. Simple. Grab a cup—done. Now? There's a whole ceremony just to drink tea. Ridiculous."
A knock broke the silence.
"Lady Blessed?"
She rolled halfway, muffled, "Come in."
The door opened. A young attendant entered, paused, then bowed.
"My lady… forgive me. The Luminarchs have summoned you. I've come to assist your preparation."
Jinn sighed, dragging herself upright.
"Heeeeh… another summons. And they wonder why I refused the Saintess job."
"Alright. Let's get this over with."
---
Outer Prayer Hall – Afternoon
Shadow cloaked the outer prayer hall. Two men lingered near the carved stone arches.
Kaelvar, crown prince of Caltheria, leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. His royal cloak bore the stag crest of his house. Reval, his longtime friend, stood nearby.
"We rest here for now," Kaelvar said. "We crossed two provinces. No need to move before we understand what we're dealing with."
Reval followed his gaze.
Down the corridor, a veiled figure approached, guided by an attendant. Her steps were quiet, deliberate.
"That's her," Reval murmured. "The envoy. Same veil the runaway Saintess wore."
Kaelvar narrowed his eyes.
But something else drew his attention.
An old woman, frail and hunched, shuffled toward the donation altar. Her pouch shook in her hand.
She tripped. Coins clattered across the floor.
No one moved.
Kaelvar stepped forward instinctively.
"Wait," Reval said, hand on his arm. "Let's see what she does."
---
Jinn rushed forward. Kneeling.
"Are you alright, Grandma?"
The woman winced, trying to sit upright.
"I'm fine… just my old body misbehaving again."
"Please sit. Don't force yourself. Attendant—help me with the coins."
The two of them worked fast. Jinn moved carefully, treating the scattered coins like sacred glass.
"Where's your family, Grandma? Shouldn't someone be with you?"
"No one left but my sister," the old woman said, her voice soft. "Told me not to go far, but... I had to come. I brought all I have. Wanted to thank the gods—for the envoy. If she hadn't come, I'd never have seen my son again. Even if it was just in a dream. That light… brought him back. Let him say goodbye."
Jinn's hands froze for a second.
"So the miracle stories weren't exaggerated. They're real."
"Let me help you up. Come on—take my arm."
The woman tried to stand. Then blinked.
"The pain… it's gone? My back doesn't hurt. Neither do my legs."
Jinn stared at her, stunned.
"I didn't cast anything. I didn't channel mana."
"That veil…" the woman whispered. "You're her. The envoy. Gods bless you! You healed me with a touch—Saintess… no, forgive me—Envoy!"
Gasps rose from nearby. Curious heads turned.
Voices stirred.
"Is that her? The Saintess?"
Jinn looked around. Her pulse spiked.
But then, someone stepped between her and the crowd.
Kaelvar.
His voice was calm, sharp, royal.
"Quickly. Go. We'll handle this."
The attendant tugged her gently.
"This way, my lady."
Jinn squeezed the old woman's hand one last time.
"Take care, Grandma. Rest now."
Then she ran.
Behind her, Kaelvar stood tall, intercepting the crowd with a wordless authority.
His eyes followed her retreating figure.
"That power... that wasn't the Church. That was grace. And it came from her."
He watched her disappear down the corridor.
"You're not what they say. You're something more."