Early afternoon in the Upper City of the Holy See of Arcadia, just after school…

Under the warm glow of the sun up high at the city square, fancy restaurants and cafés were open and ready for the lunch hour for the crowds of people, noblemen and merchants and artisans alike, all prepared and able to pay good coin for a hearty meal and a strong drink to steel themselves for the remainder of the day.

On their way there, along the suburban streets of a housing district still slightly bathed in freshly fallen morning snow, Isha Ayan walked alongside her friends from school, Ari and Ellie, quietly admiring her surroundings amidst idle conversation. Talking about school, about the other girls, and the boys. The café they were going to was newly-opened and was said to be very popular, that served some manner of fusion cuisine said to be inspired by various cultures across the Empire of Arcadia. Ari had been gushing non-stop about it ever since morning prayers, and the excitement had rubbed off on her as well.

In a way, life here was like a dream. Months had already passed like days since her coming to the Holy See to live with her godmother and aunt, the Archon known as the Eye of Elicia, as the sole survivor of the Wild Elf caravan of Clan Ayan. Life was no longer on the move on long snowy roads day by day, but classes, prayers, and more classes, and weekends with her adopted godmother and aunts. Reading and writing had once been unfamiliar, but she was slowly getting used to it. And day by day, she was also slowly growing used to the feel of her Convent School uniform, be it the blazer or tight-fitting blouse and skirt, or the thigh-high black cotton socks and brown shoes. Even the red tie on her neck now felt far less constricting, and a lot more welcome. At least, after realising the breathing room afforded to her when she had learned to tug it down and away from her neck, letting it hang slightly ajar from around her collar. Just like Ari’s.

Her mother would have disapproved, surely. It was uncouth, possibly a little un-ladylike as her godmother liked to say so very much, but nobody in Saint Lyra’s seemed to mind. Perhaps it was her godmother’s influence at work, but the devatas and her schoolmates accepted her for who she was, with open arms. Even her true form, for her friends had seen her transform before in the past, as did most of Saint Lyra’s when she had leapt out to save a schoolmate falling from a tree in the schoolyard on her first day, bearing and absorbing his pain with her true form born of holy blood. And they cherished her for it too, touting her as a living sign of Elicia’s divine favour upon the faithful.

It felt, in some twisted way, like her old life never existed. Now, she was living that life her mother had always dreamed and mused about that lay behind the walls of Elicia’s Law, of what could be and yet would never be. The goats and caravans, and everything else that she once held dear, all like a dream from a past life. But she knew better. Mom and dad were dead. Her friends, her family, her uncles and aunts. Everyone she had ever loved. It kept her up at night when everyone else was asleep, with tears in her blue eyes.

But all that was for the night, perhaps best left alone in darkness and dreams. In the light, in the present, living every day with a smile was the only way she knew to honour the memory her parents and her Clan. It was what they wanted for her. The aberration of holy blood that was now her true form, born from the very magic brought forth by her mother and Clan’s sacrifice that had allowed the Ecclesiarch to save her life, was an undying testament to this shared desire solely for her, and her alone.

“Lana… Lana…”

Momentarily, veering away from the ongoing chatter with her friends and her thoughts, Isha shot a glance towards the side of the pavement, at an elven man with brown hair and blue eyes just like hers, dressed in silken finery worthy of a noble’s servant. Though even then, that finery appeared roughed up and torn, his bruised face faring little better. He lay huddled by the wall of a large terrace house, those blue eyes of his seemingly lost in bloody delirium, tears streaking down his already tear-stained cheeks while the three schoolgirls drew close.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Isha stopped dead in her tracks. Ari and Ellie looked on behind her, watching in horror. The servant was bleeding out, and there was no one else around to help. This part of the housing district was quiet, with most either out for work or at home and busy with their lunch. There were no devatas or Lightsworn Guard nearby. Only herself. And she knew what she had to do. Even if it hurt, if only temporarily. It was what she did best, being what she was right now. Lunch would have to wait.

“Ari, Ellie… go get the guards, while I...”

“Isha…” Ari said worriedly. “You’re going to help him with your special gift, right…?”

Isha smiled at both Ari and Ellie, as one half of herself let go of her mortal façade, shifting into her true form of holy blood in the shape of one half of an elven girl, her body swirling and ebbing and flowing in shades of red like freshly-spilled blood.

“Yeah!”

Three minutes later…

The holy blood of Isha Ayan worked its magic upon the wounded servant, transfusing itself into his body to mend and renew as she took his pain unto herself, gritting her teeth as she absorbed the feeling of an endless salvo of punches and kicks from all sides, letting it melt into her and fade into nothingness. No longer did he gasp in pain at an inch of his life, his breathing relaxing itself into slow and deep breaths. His clothes were still bloody and torn, but his bleeding wounds had been sealed.

“Lana…!”

“Um…” Isha said worriedly as she regained her footing, having shifted back into her mortal façade once more. “Excuse me…”

The servant was still in what she could only assume was a state of abject terror. Moving in close, once again, she knelt and reached out towards him, shaking him gently by his shoulders until he snapped out of his trance and turned towards her, the sight of her elvish ears lulling him into a calm serenity as he looked into her eyes blue like his own.

“Wait, where am I, and who are you…?”

“My name is Isha Ayan,” Isha answered innocently. “Um… you were bleeding, so I…”

The servant looked down upon his silken tunic, only to reel in shock at the lack of pain. He placed both hands upon his chest in disbelief, only to have his surprise further affirmed by his sense of touch.

“I’m no longer…”

“Yes. You’re okay now, don’t worry. My friends are on their way with the Lightsworn Guard, and…”

“No! If I’m alright, I can’t just lie around here! Lana, she…”

The servant placed his hands upon the pavement, pushing up against it as hard as he could to force himself back up upon his feet. Immediately, a sudden jolt of pain stemming from where his wounds were, quickly grounded him back upon the pavement.

“No! Lana…”

“Um… you can’t exert yourself like that,” Isha said, with a frown. “Your wounds are healed, but you still need to rest.”

“You don’t understand!” the servant shouted, as he reached desperately for Isha’s arms. “Lana… she’s still in there, and she…”

“Um…”

“Please! I’m begging you! Look, I don’t know how you healed my wounds, but you must definitely… be some kind of miracle worker! Please, you have to go in there, and save her… from Lady Priscilla…”

Isha’s gaze followed the servant’s finger as he feverishly pointed at the terrace house that lay behind the walls that he leaned upon. It was a big house, two storeys and curtained glass windows. From those windows, clear as diamond yet appearing fragile like ice, she spotted a presence who appeared to have been watching them for quite some time, from behind those curtains drawn close to each other like a veil of secrets. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, only for whoever that was to quickly retreat into the sanctuary of their home.

“Please, Isha…! Before it’s too late… the guards, too slow…”

“Okay,” Isha answered, with an affirmative nod. “Wait here. I’ll go look for her!”