The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 92: “time is endless.”

While Soren struggled with his own life in the mortal plane and was constantly torn between the desire to open his heart and the fear of being hurt again, the sacred being responsible for his fate stood far away, in a realm completely beyond the reach of mortals.

As Soren faced pain, rejection, and uncertainty on the ground below, the one who had set his destiny in motion remained untouched by human suffering.

The Goddess Mirath was kneeling in silence before the Mother Deity with her posture that’s filled with submission and restraint. She didn’t dared to lift her head because before her stood the throne of the supreme goddess, high and unmoving with a symbol of authority that could not be challenged.

The Mother Deity’s seat was adorned with countless shining diamonds along with their surfaces that’s reflecting the holy light, and layered with soft cushions that suggested comfort. Yet none of that warmth reached her presence.

Her entire form was concealed behind a brilliant golden glow so intense that no mortal eyes could ever endure it. To humans, she would be impossible to comprehend not simply because she’s a goddess, but the very source of balance, order, and judgment itself.

They were within a heavenly castle that was built thousands of years ago and a sacred place created at the dawn of time to house the gods and goddesses. Its vast halls were silent and spotless and was untouched by decay.

The realm functioned in perfect harmony with its own systems, own rhythm of life, and a balance that never faltered.

Everything existed exactly as it was meant to.

And yet, despite its beauty and perfection, the atmosphere felt cold.

That coldness did not come from the marble floors or the endless sky beyond the windows as it came from the Mother Deity herself. She ruled with strict laws and unwavering judgment, especially toward her daughters, Khaeren and Mirath.

Those daughters, driven by their own emotions and desires had defied divine order and brought forth a terrible curse.

That curse did not remain in the heavens, of course.

It descended into the mortal world while spreading across the land and embedding itself deeply within the Kingdom of Elarion. Lives were changed, suffering was born, and fate was twisted beyond repair.

And at the center of it all, unaware of the true reason behind his pain was Soren.

Because of that curse, his life was no longer his own.

His destiny had already been decided long before he ever had a chance to choose.

"So," the Mother Deity spoke at last with her voice echoing through the endless hall, layered and vast, as though countless voices spoke as one. "You claim that you have finally reached your chosen vessel. You stand before me and say that you have met the mortal meant to cleanse your sister’s sin. Is that truly what you wish me to believe?"

The golden radiance around her throne deepened while spilling across the polished floor like liquid sunlight.

"Yes, Mother." The Goddess Mirath lowered herself further with her one knee pressed to the sacred ground and her head bowed in reverence. "I was able to enter his consciousness. His soul was exposed only because his life hung upon the brink of extinction. Had he not been so close to death, I would never have been granted such access. I seized the moment you allowed me. I swear this upon my divinity that I did not hesitate."

"And yet," the Mother Deity replied along with a calm but merciless tone, "what you offer me is still failure."

After saying that, it’s as if the air grew heavier.

"Do not forget," she continued, "that your sister remains bound by my will alone. Her prison endures because I allow it to endure. Every step you take and every chance you are granted, exists at my discretion." The glow around her throne sharpened. "So, tell me, what did you gain from trespassing into the mind of your vessel?"

The kneeling goddess tightened her hands against the floor. "Mother... the vessel is broken."

Her words echoed faintly before she continued more carefully. "When I entered him, I found no resistance but only emptiness. He has abandoned the desire to live. His heart is sealed shut, hollowed by loss and despair. He does not seek salvation, nor does he fear death that is why I spoke to him. That is why I urged him to reach for others."

She then lifted her gaze just enough to face the light. "As you know, Mother, a vessel cannot be awakened if its heart is void. Divine power cannot take root where there is no will to endure."

Then, the silence fell.

Even the celestial being seemed to still.

"And whose failing is that?" the Mother Deity asked with colder voice now, edged with quiet condemnation. "Was it not you who chose this vessel? Was it not you who watched over him from the moment his fate was sealed?"

The goddess swallowed, feeling guilty of her sin because what her mother said was real, after all. "I have watched him suffer, Mother. I have seen the cruelty of mortals shape him into what he is now. Each time I reached for him across the veil, I was denied. Each time, I waited while believing that, in time, his heart would awaken on its own."

The Mother Deity’s light flared, brilliant and unforgiving while glaring at her daughter down the throne seat.

"And still," she said, "through centuries of waiting, you have brought me nothing but excuses. Years have passed. Mortal lives have risen and fallen. And yet you stand before me now, empty-handed once more."

Her gaze, unseen yet unmistakable pressed down upon the Goddess MIrath.

"Tell me," she added, "why should I grant you another chance when you have never once succeeded?"

Mirath could not answer.

She remained kneeling in silence with her lips pressed together because there was nothing she could say that would change the truth. Never, not even once had she truly succeeded in claiming her vessel because every attempt she made across the years ended the same way.

If the vessels did not end their own lives, then someone else would do it for them.

The truth was, those chosen as vessels were never allowed to live peacefully.

From the moment they were born, their lives were marked by suffering. People around them would feel hatred toward them without understanding why. They were bullied, betrayed, hunted, and discarded by the world that should have protected them.

No matter where they went, misery followed.

This was not coincidence but fate.

The destiny of the vessels was bound to two goddesses who are Khaeren and Mirath.

Because of this bond, the vessels were trapped between opposing divine forces they could never understand. Their lives were filled with cruel people, endless hardship, and moments of hope that never lasted.

Every time they reached for happiness, it was taken away and sorrow became their constant companion.

Mirath had watched it happen again and again.

She had seen vessels grow up broken before they were even old enough to dream. Some became quiet and withdrawn while others fought desperately to survive, only to be crushed in the end. Each one suffered deeply, long before Mirath could guide them or awaken their true purpose.

And each time, she failed.

There were limits to what she could do since she could not interfere directly. She could not protect them from harm. She could only observe from afar, forced to witness their pain as their lives slowly fell apart.

That was why this vessel was different.

Soren had not taken his own life but he had no desire to keep living either. He moved forward out of habit, not hope. His heart was empty, weighed down by loss and loneliness. When Mirath finally reached him, it was not because he was strong, but because he was already standing at the edge.

And that frightened her.

Because if even this vessel who still breathed despite having no will to live were to fail, then Mirath knew what it would mean.

There would be no more chances.

She had no choice but to wait, again.

When a vessel failed, Mirath could do nothing except return to the beginning and wait for another soul to be born and another life to restart the cycle from where it had first gone wrong. She waited through the passing of years, through generations rising and falling while watching time move forward while she remained unchanged.

Each failure meant starting over, again and again, with no certainty that the next vessel would survive any longer than the last.

While Mirath endured this endless waiting, her sister remained imprisoned.

Her sister was sealed away by their own mother, the Mother Deity herself, after unleashing a curse that spread like poisonous miasma across the land. The curse did not fade with time as it clung to the world, corrupting lives and twisting fate wherever it reached.

Despite witnessing the suffering it caused, the Mother Deity never intervened to lessen it.

She refused to help.

To her, this was not cruelty, but discipline.

She believed that Mirath and her sister had to bear full responsibility for what they had done. The punishment was meant to be a lesson so they would never forget the consequences of defying divine order.

And the cost was unbearable.

Not only had they failed in their mission within the mortal realm, but their actions had also brought forth a massive curse that scarred the land itself. Worse still, they had dragged an innocent soul into their divine conflict, binding someone who never asked for it to a fate filled with suffering.

That soul now lived and struggled in the mortal world, unaware that his pain was the result of divine mistakes.

And Mirath could do nothing but watch while knowing that every breath he took was shaped by the consequences of her failure.

"Hmm. It is not as if we are running out of time," the Mother Deity said calmly.

She also leaned back on her throne with natural grace as if nothing in the world could rush her. To her, time had no meaning.

Mortal lives passed like brief moments.

"You may take as long as you wish," she continued. "If this vessel fails again, then you will simply wait for another to be born. That is all."

Behind her throne stood many female divine guards, silent and unmoving. Some held golden spears, others carried bows with arrows on their backs. Swords rested at their waists, and shields were held firmly in place.

They stood there not for decoration, but as a clear sign of her power and authority.

The Mother Deity rested her head lightly against her hand.

"For beings like us," she added quietly, "time is endless."