Riltara gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she tried to comprehend what she was witnessing.0

The overwhelming presence that pressed down from every direction left no room for doubt. Something great and terrible had descended into their midst. Ferderica, the God of Hunger, had come to the holy land, manifesting through the Saint’s body. The atmosphere itself grew thick and oppressive, as if the air had turned to lead.0

Riltara’s face went deathly pale. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was as if the sky itself was sitting on her chest, squeezing the life from her lungs.0

Ketal, noticing her distress, tilted his head in her direction. He let his aura unfurl, then carefully withdrew it, balancing the energies in the plaza. Riltara slumped to her knees, drawing in air in desperate gulps.0

“She’s your follower, after all. It wouldn’t do to snuff her out just by being here,” Ketal said, glancing toward Ferderica.0

Ferderica’s borrowed face twisted slightly, an expression of faint annoyance passing across the Saint’s features, as if Ketal had just given them unsolicited parenting advice. However, Ferderica did as Ketal suggested, drawing back their power with a gesture. Ketal, satisfied, did the same.0

Now, for the first time, Riltara looked up, her senses slowly returning. She realized with a shock that she was standing before Ferderica themselves, the god she had worshiped all her life, the one she had never imagined she would meet face to face.0

A dozen emotions warred within her: awe, terror, ecstasy, despair. She had never even dreamed of speaking to their god. Now, with trembling lips, she tried to form words.0

“She’s...0