"I will," the Saint promised. "Although you’re not even that old."
They laughed, and bade farewell.
It seemed like a normal conversation at first. A reunion between two old friends. There was nothing else to it.
But Caius raised the boy. He was there when the boy told lies. He was there when the boy cried for his parents. He was also there when the boy did his first miracle. And Caius knew, despite the reassurances, that Theron had seen something that had truly shaken him.
That had shaken his beliefs.
What is a miracle?
Theron did not know. He thought he knew what it was. He was a Saint, after all.
Miracles were supposed to be powers bestowed by the Goddess on those who were good. Truly good. Not the kind of everyday good which most people were. But those who were exceptionally good— who exhibited all the virtues of the Goddess, would be given the power of a miracle.
Of course, there have been reports of regular people performing miracles. People who were not especially kind or just. Some of those reports were clearly fabrications, but others have had multiple eyewitnesses. And while it was easy to dismiss all of them as hoaxes since some were verifiably fake, further investigator showed one thing in common with them:
They were always suffering.
Like how a boy stuck underneath debris suddenly got the strength to dig himself out. How a woman lost at sea suddenly could swim to the nearest port. How an old man struck with illness suddenly recovered.
These were miracles. Indisputably, they had to have been miracles. But these people never could repeat what they did. So the Church came to a conclusion.
A regular person could do a miracle, as long as they were going through great suffering.
The Goddess was taking pity in the cruelty of their situation, and bestowed upon them temporary powers. The kinds that Saints and Saintesses had. But just to help them escape their situation. Once they were no longer suffering, they could not do a miracle again.
So theoretically, anyone could do a miracle. As long as they were a regular person and they were suffering. But the first qualifier mattered more than the second. Because although being a regular person meant you were not the kindest person in the world, it especially meant that you were not evil.
Which must then mean, that the Fiend was not evil.
That was the only conclusion Theron had come to after thinking about it over the past few months. The Fiend was good.
She had to be. She performed a miracle before his very eyes. She was dead, and yet she could still move. She could still speak. She could still love.
Theron was not a fool. He would not deny what he saw. If it was some sort of trick, the Fiend would have killed him. But she did not. She died there and then. Only that she somehow lived for a little bit longer to save her daughter had to have been an act of the Goddess.
And her daughter...
The Saint shook his head. There was no use worrying about it. She could be dead for all he knew. If not from Monsters, then from hunger and dehydration. And although she was probably dead, there was still a chance that she lived. Which was why he—
"Saint Theron," a voice called out to him.
The man jerked, and he looked up at the speaker.
"Fria," he greeted the red-headed woman standing in front of him.
The Inquisitor— the only surviving member of his team— saluted him. "I was told you needed to see me, Sir."
"Be at ease. This isn’t a formal meeting. You’re no longer under my command."
"Yes Sir— I mean, yes Saint." Fria relaxed. But her face still held a stiff look. Theron did not comment further, as he was used to her rigidity. "So, uh, why did you want to see me?" She looked around the courtyard as she spoke.
This was not a public space. It was the military wing of the Xan Palace. Various individuals dressed in decorated uniforms passed by, yet some still eyed Theron. He was, after all, a Saint.
"I just wanted to check up on you. How have you been feeling since you returned?" he asked.
The Inquisitor blinked. "Oh, I've been given a break by the Grand Inquisitor himself when he heard that we killed the Fiend. I’ve also been getting a lot of attention because of that. And I’ve been doing desk jobs, but I plan on taking up proper missions again soon since... " She paused, and fidgeted on her feet.
"It’s good to hear that you’re doing good"— Theron shook his head— "but there’s no rush for you to get back into the battlefield. Your first mission went horribly wrong, and only I am to blame for that."
"Don’t say that!" the young woman protested. "I’ve been getting credit for something I didn’t even do. I was… impatient, and because of that I couldn’t do anything."
"Exactly," the Saint agreed. "Now you know better than to be impatient. So don’t force yourself to do anything you’re not prepared to do yet. Your mission… was more than most Inquisitors ever have to deal with. Take your break, and don’t fret over it."
The redhead’s face loosened. A light shade of pink came over her face, and she nodded. "Yes, uh, thank you, Ther— Saint," she mumbled.
The man smiled. Then he changed the topic.
"How’s the boy doing?"
"Adrian?" Fria’s expression changed. Her slight grin turned into a scowl as she folded her arms. "He’s been nothing but trouble in the Academy. Keeps on picking fights, and I swear he only has one friend. But his grades are good, and you were the one who
