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Helia released a slow breath and closed her eyes for a moment to rest them. Outside the high windows, the moon had climbed to its throne and poured a pale road of light across the floor. The Saintess of the Sun God sat on her bed with a book open across her knees, reading the last page of a chapter she had promised herself she would finish before sleeping. Lately, there had been no such thing as a proper evening for her. Other than the hour that came directly before she collapsed into bed, she had no time that could honestly be called rest.
Even so, her heart was content in a way it had not been for an age. For a span beyond counting, the evil that coveted the Mortal Realm had pressed a hand against the world. That hand was gone. The demon legions had been driven out, and the Demon King who ruled them had fallen. She did not believe this meant the world would be peaceful forever; nations still clashed for advantage, and conflicts on the Mortal Realm would never fully end.
Yet such struggles belonged to mortals. They were struggles of law, gold, and land, not of demons clawing through the seams of the sky. The world would not be unmarred, but it would be spared the grip of an outer hand. That alone satisfied her more than she had words to say.
She judged the hour right and decided to sleep. She closed the book on a ribbon and lifted her hand toward the lamp to pinch out the flame.
In that instant, the air burst like a taut skin struck by a stone. Something tore across the outer sky toward her chamber with violent speed, and the dome of quiet that had wrapped the holy land changed timbre as if a bell had cracked.
“Wait, just a moment,” Helia said under her breath, and she rose in a fluid motion that...
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