Alpha Instinct-Chapter 57: "Whispers of the Goddess"

The battle ended, and a heavy silence fell, laden with consequences.

Mikaela, with visible effort, laid Leonard’s unconscious body on the muddy grass, remnants of the storm that had passed. The cold, damp earth contrasted with the heat radiating from him, a residual, unnatural heat.

"What was that, Leo...?" The question, a whisper directed more to herself than to the unconscious Leonard, carried worry and a hint of admiration. A dangerous mixture.

Her own pain brought her back to reality. "I need to close this wound... fast..." The thought, urgent, echoed in her mind.

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She’d lost a lot of blood, and weakness was starting to set in.

With a sigh, Mikaela focused. A silent prayer, a plea for help to the Goddess of Light. Her ELEV activated, and the ability flowed. It was "Holy Healing," a warm and comforting energy that emanated from her hands, now enveloped in a soft yellowish light.

Carefully, she placed her hands over the wound on her flank. The light penetrated her flesh, the pain diminishing as the tissues regenerated, the skin slowly closing.

"There... I think that should do it..." Her voice came out weak, almost a whisper. The effort of healing, combined with the blood loss, was taking its toll.

A weight, like lead, fell on her shoulders, and she knelt, her breathing uneven, gasping for air.

Shadows moved among the buildings near the Gothia gate.

Villagers, those who had hidden during the battle, cautiously emerged from their shelters. Others, attracted by the silence that replaced the clamor of the fight, approached. Their faces were marked by curiosity and apprehension.

"Madam, Saint, let us help." An elderly lady, her wrinkled face marked by years of hard work, extended her hand, offering support.

Mikaela accepted the help, grateful. Many knew her, the Saint of the Church of Light, the gentle and maternal figure who dedicated her life to helping those in need—an image far removed from the implacable warrior they had witnessed minutes before.

With the help of a strong farmer, who had witnessed the battle from a nearby hiding place, Leonard was carefully placed on the horse.

Mikaela groaned as she mounted behind him, a sharp pain reminding her of the wound.

"Kalendor," the sacred artifact sword, dissipated into the air, like dust carried by the wind, returning to the domain of the Goddess of Light. A divine weapon for times of extreme need.

Without giving any command, she simply pointed the horse in the direction of the main road, trusting the animal’s instinct. She knew Leonard had come from the vicinity of Besen.

"Come on, boy, take us to Kaleb... take us home..." Mikaela gently patted the animal’s neck, and her voice, although weak, carried a silent conviction.

The journey was marked by brief, tense pauses. Mikaela, guided more by necessity than by rest, chose strategic locations. A recess in the rock, partial shelter from the cutting wind. A grove of twisted trees, precarious camouflage against unwanted eyes.

Each stop, a ritual. First, Leonard. To accommodate him carefully, his body was inert, his breathing weak but regular. Clear signs that there was still life.

Food was scarce. A piece of dried meat, tough and salty. A handful of wild berries, which she collected when she could. She shared everything she found. Leonard was her priority; she crushed the berries and meat with a rock and fed him, making sure he ate.

Sitting, but never relaxed. Her eyes, restless, scanned the landscape, searching for any sign of danger—human or leirion.

Her ears, attentive, caught every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, and every whisper of the wind.

Sleep was a forbidden luxury. Brief naps, stolen from exhaustion. Her mind always alert, her body tense, ready for combat, for flight. Her paladin side was much more present than her saintly side.

At each stop, a silent prayer, a desperate plea: "May the Goddess of Light guide my steps, protect me from evil, and deliver me from my enemies."

Two days passed, slow, painful. The road was a winding path that stretched before them. The horse, faithful, continued at a steady pace, without needing direction. Finally, it stopped.

A crossroads.

Mikaela, feeling a little stronger but still weak, got off the horse.

Carefully, she adjusted Leonard, making sure he was as comfortable as possible on the horse’s back

And then, following the instinct that had guided her there, she entered the small secondary road that opened before them. She pulled Leonard with the horse on a narrow path through the woods, skirting Lake Zafyr.

The narrow road ran downhill; the sparse vegetation offered little protection from the cold wind that blew from the lake after that great storm.

Mikaela, with Leonard still unconscious on the horse, quickened her pace, lulling him with an ancient religious hymn. The melody, soft and comforting, broke the silence of the afternoon, a note of hope amidst desolation.

Then, she saw it.

A thread of smoke, faint and gray, rising on the horizon.

A chimney. It was a sign of life and civilization. Finally, they would have shelter.

A hint of concern about whether some leirion would appear or if the owners of the place would be hostile, but she remained strong in her faith that everything would be alright.

Hope and faith were her only weapons now. With renewed vigor, she pushed onward, ignoring the pain and fatigue.

As she approached, the smoke became denser, the smell of burning wood invading her nostrils. A cabin, rustic but solid, emerged amidst the trees.

"Are they making tea?" She thought, smelling the delicious aroma.

Before she could call out, the cabin door opened abruptly. Two figures emerged: Kaleb, the young mage, and... him.

Saito.

The name, a silent whisper, echoed in Mikaela’s mind. A shiver ran down her spine, not of fear, but of reverence. A deep, almost instinctive respect that transcended logic.

It was just a rumor that an old wanderer named Saito was a primordial. But she didn’t want to test her luck.

She activated her ability to see his power.

"An immensity of energy..." she thought.

Without hesitation, she knelt, the armor, previously a symbol of strength, now an uncomfortable weight. Her head bowed in a gesture of submission.

"Greetings to the Primordial of Life," said Mikaela, her voice firm but laden with an almost religious respect.