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Saintess. The very title that referred to one born as the Goddess’s staff upon this land.
Few truly understood the weight of that name. Most only pretended to respect the Saintess—either to bolster the authority of the Holy Church or out of wariness toward her power and influence. Before the Church’s eyes, they would bow politely, but behind closed doors, they would mutter about how a mere woman couldn’t possibly understand anything serious.
However, the few who did know, understood well—that the Saintess was the most dangerous and powerful figure in the Church, the one who could embody the power of the Goddess more perfectly than anyone else.
Her silver hair and golden eyes were proof of that. Hair turned white by divine power, eyes dyed gold—both were as good as possessing the Goddess’ Stigmata right from birth.
Of these traits, the golden eyes could see something special.
Ah… the Hero…
Elahan gazed at him with a dazed expression. It wasn’t that she had fallen for Leon’s looks. Clergy were not swayed by physical beauty or ugliness, and none more so than Elahan.
Was it because she’d been raised in the temple from childhood? No. Because she’d been strictly trained as a Saintess? Not that either.
From birth, Elahan had...
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