The Secret Saintess

Chapter One

My eyes fluttered as consciousness slowly returned to me. My body, however, maintained that it was too early to be up and rolled over to face away from the soft cooing voice that was rousing me.

… wait. Cooing?

My awareness sharpened as I forced my body to relax and take in everything around me. Wherever I was currently, it didn't feel like the cells beneath the temple in the Azrian Vatican. This place was warm and comfortable. The person at my back sounded female, which was unheard of among the priests.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The walls around me were not made of stone but of wood. That alone made a world of difference. I could hear – and feel – a fire crackling not far away, and I was lying down in a small but cozy cot, covered by warm clothes and a thick quilt.

I rolled over to meet the warm brown eyes of a woman who was obviously not a priest or a holy person of any kind. She wore simple clothes covered by a thick, worn out apron, and her skin was very pale. Her hair matched her eyes, both a dark chestnut brown color, which fell down one shoulder in waves.

The woman smiled at me, her lips cracking. She reached forward and cupped my face, and somehow I managed not to flinch away as she enveloped my small, new body in her arms.

“Good morning, my sweet baby,” she murmured lovingly, and I could feel myself melting into her embrace. She was warm and soft and just like how I remembered Tiradon, the First Priest. Something deep inside me stung at the realization that it had been that long since I'd last felt this overwhelming warmth.

“Happy birthday, my love,” my new mother murmured in my ear, and I could hear the proud smile in her voice.

Happy birthday, my love.

Yvara's whispered voice had become a regular across all of my lives, but this was something new. I'd never heard her so emotional, as if she was trying not to cry from wherever it was Gods perched to watch our short, human lives.

My eyes suddenly swam with tears, and before I knew it, I was being cradled in my new mother's arms, bawling my eyes out as she rocked and shushed comfortingly. Before too long, a man came bursting into the room. He was a large, burly fellow with short, curly red hair and deep blue eyes, also very obviously not a holy person. He was dressed in furs and thick, padded clothing, snow dusting his hair and shoulders, and by the look on his face, my crying deeply alarmed him. He kept looking between me and the woman, who I felt shrugging against me.

As our eyes met, I didn't recognize him, but he was familiar all the same, and when I reached a tiny hand out to him – my other arm still wrapped around my mother – he shrugged off his coat and sunk down onto his knees in front of us without hesitation. Thick arms came around us both and pulled us against him, the rocking never interrupted. I allowed myself some time to let it all out, realization continuing to dawn on me as the moments ticked by in these new embraces.

She finally did it. Goddess Yvara reincarnated me somewhere the temple didn't find me. And with a loving set of parents to boot, it seemed.

I searched the few memories retained by my new five year old body. This was Elena, daughter of a woodsman couple who ran an inn in the snow tipped mountain range that ran along the borders of the Rocheze Empire and Astana. We were on the Rocheze side of the border, which explained why the temple hadn't found me this time. They couldn't cross the border just to hunt for the Saintess.

This time, I was really and truly free.

And you'll continue to be, Yvara added, or at least well hidden until those t***s come to their senses.

I couldn't help a small smile at that. Nobody could hear her like I could, and if they did, they've never imagine someone so crude could be the Goddess who created this world.

My tears stopped, but I held onto this mother Yvara had gifted me for this life. I pulled back a little, looking up again into her doe like eyes. She smiled down at me as she smoothed my own hair back from my face.

“Feeling better, sweet E?” she asked, her concern obvious.

I cuddled into her arms and my father's chest. It had been so long since I'd had either, I knew it would be hard to let them go.

“Yes,” I replied after a beat. “Much.”

It always took quite some time to acclimate to a new life, a new body, and a new name being called for me. I had previously shunned all of my other names, only wanting to be called by my original name, but this felt too much like a fresh start.

So I worked hard to become Elena.

Over the next few weeks, I slid into my new life with relative ease, though my parents suffered a little bit of confusion at some of the changes in my personality. They didn't push or ask any questions though, just paid a bit more attention than they likely did before.

All in all, I couldn't complain. The area we lived in was very new to me, but I welcomed the challenge. Azria was set far east, in the desert, so this snow tipped mountain range was a welcome change. Every day I would bundle up with furs and head out with my new father, who taught me the art of trapping. I also enjoyed following my mother around the inn on particularly cold days, watching her fix various parts of the old log building and trying to learn from what she did.

Watching my parents together was something both very new and very fun. They were an obviously loving couple, my father being the more open about his feelings than my mother. He seemed large and tough, but he was just a big softie on the inside, just like my mother would say.

Soon, everything settled down. It seemed like I would have some well needed peace forever.

But it was never meant to be, I guess.