In the realm of Chaos, the Sepulchure of God…

The living god Elicia, she whose one divine half embodied mankind’s prayers, whose other corrupted half embodied the master of the Hellbourne, sat upon the mortal comfort of a velvet armchair. Half-asleep, as she gazed upon with one silver eye, the faded colours of the illustrations within a children’s book held in her hands both eldritch and divine.

The pages were old and a little tattered, but it was one of the few books that remained when the orphanage she served had been reduced to ashes and corpses. And she liked it very much, as did the children who lived in her past from that life of hers before Arcadia was even a figment of her imagination. It was, after all, a story both simple and timeless, a fairy-tale about a princess and her adventures in beautiful lands unknown. And a part of her wondered, even now, about going on an adventure like that to see all of the world that was hers, for the windows of this boudoir where one could gaze upon a reflection of all Melodia to their heart’s desire, was ultimately of little comfort even as she maintained the Veil between worlds.

Indeed, such was her life now, as the years became centuries, as the centuries turned to eternity. Meditation and rest, on and on, if only that those who offered their souls upon death to her strength, willingly or not, did not pass on in vain. And as she placed the talons of the eldritch claw that was her right hand upon the coldness of the silver mask obscuring the right half of her face, she grimaced at the thought of it all, tempting as it was to leave it all behind as though it was all but a dream to be awoken from. It was simply impossible, after all. Now that all of this had happened, and had become reality.

And perhaps, it was better this way.

“Mistress.”

Elicia stood up slowly at the sound of the voice which spoke that single word like a winter’s sonata. Graceful and elegant, as she had ever known it to be. It was accompanied with the familiar clinking of jewellery and graceful footsteps upon marble tiles, a medley of sounds like her own jewels made of gold and diamonds that adorned the left side of her godly being, that also made her own footsteps clink with that same divine elegance when she made her way to the middle of the room to address her Handmaiden. She, who stood before her god and divine mistress as Iris de Escaflora, the Archon who reigned as Ecclesiarch of the Central Church and the Holy See of Arcadia, whose devatas preached Elicia’s holy word throughout all of Melodia that belonged to Arcadia and its Archons.

“Iris,” Elicia said as she watched her Handmaiden prostrate herself before her. “I trust that all things went well with your trip to Fort Sina?”

“Yes…” Iris said in reply, her head bowed and her golden eyes upon the immaculate stitching of the carpet beneath both her knees and her mistress’s feet. “It did. I did what had to be done.”

Elicia nodded and said nothing in reply, her silver eye still upon her Handmaiden who remained knelt before her. Who looked up towards her god and mistress expressionlessly, her golden eyes unblinking.

“And yet, I…”

“You saved her, did you not? She, who bears their holy blood combined.”

“Yes… yes I did. But everyone else, I…”

Elicia knelt and embraced her Handmaiden. And in turn, Iris embraced her as well. She did so tearlessly, as she took in her mistress's divine scent and her eldritch corruption into her delicate senses, her own divine body trembling as she felt the cold yet warm sensation of a body bearing equal, yet opposing halves.

“It was all because of me,” Iris uttered. “I spared him, because I loved him, and then, I…”

“You saved her, Iris.”

“Yes… I did, but I…”

“Then your efforts were not in vain, my dearest.”

Elicia then drew back a little, such that she could place her hand and her eldritch claw upon Iris’s shoulders as she smiled at her Handmaiden, who gazed quietly at the exposed beauty of her mistress’s silver eye, and at the bloody scar running down an otherwise perfect half of a god’s face.

“They died and suffered as they did, because of me.”

“Yes, they did. And that is the weight of the Ecclesiarch’s crown, Iris,” Elicia said in reply, her voice but a gentle whisper. “And you will learn it, you will feel it, and you will bear it. Like Lyra did, you shall. And it will be no different, for whoever shall reign in your place after your time as my light fades.”

When Iris remained silent, Elicia nodded and looked into the golden eyes of her Handmaiden once more. She was cold and a little aloof, not at all like Lyra who reigned before her, whose immaculate beauty wore every emotion strongly upon her features like a skein brimming with life and passion. And yet, they were both graceful in their own way, as beautiful as any being of light could ever be. So beautiful, that a part of her wished that she and her Handmaiden, bless her, could be one and the same, once more. Even if it was impossible.

But perhaps, it did not matter. She loved her all the same, unified or not. Like one would a younger sister, if life and divinity could ever go back to being simple in a world without Archons, without the gods and the Hellbourne. She vividly remembered Anna de la Lune, the girl with lavender hair she had met months prior in this same pocket of Chaos, who had crossed between worlds, perhaps unknowingly to meet the 'lady of her dreams'. And she had left the Holy See with her blessing to master the eldritch strength that had become her salvation, and yet also bore down upon her like the weight of the world. For she, like her, loved someone with all her heart. And that kind of love, it was a reason worth fighting for. The reason for everything, and more. That love, suffering, and salvation, would become one and the same.

“For now, though, you should get some rest,” Elicia said after a while, breaking the silence in her boudoir. “You came here as soon as you arrived at the Cathedral, I assume? You have quite a bit of work to catch up with when morning comes, and…”

“Yes,” Iris said in reply. “But, I…”

“Hmm?”

“I would like to remain here. A little longer, with you. If you would indulge me, mistress…”

Upon hearing this, Elicia embraced her Handmaiden once more. As tightly as she ever could, as she felt her embrace returned with a warmth that made her smile.

“Of course, my dearest. Stay as long as you like.”