Chapter 46: Faith

The Descent Rite failed.
“High Priestess—what do we do!”
The High Priestess looked awful: “Don’t panic. The god is merciful—won’t abandon believers. After the Holy Maiden and I discuss we’ll hold a new rite.”
Long silence. A believer couldn’t hold fear: “High Priestess, Holy Maiden—what happened?”
“Did we anger the god last time—so the god won’t shelter us anymore!”
Chaos swept the church.
“That must be it—the god abandoned us…”
“We were so devout—we only wanted eternal life. If they’re gods why not grant our wish!”
“Silence!” The High Priestess cut in, turned to her, bowed fast: “Holy Maiden, forgive us. After prayer I’ll punish every disrespectful believer.”
She answered: “No need.”
Not her age—she didn’t care for ceremony. She cared about the false god.
In the old age her power was cut hard. Against the false god—unknown odds.
“Without rules, no order. The Holy Maiden is merciful—that’s no excuse to disrespect the god.” The High Priestess pointed at the loud believer, voice sharp: “Take him out. Death by a thousand cuts.”
She sucked in breath: “High Priestess, don’t—”
“Holy Maiden.” The High Priestess’s tone sank—no argument. “Your every word is the god’s will. Stand in the god’s place—forgive our sins.”
She looked around—no one questioned the cruel verdict, not even the condemned believer.
The High Priestess held absolute power in the cult. The Holy Maiden was more a fine doll of supreme authority.
That believer’s eyes burned with faith, laughed loud: “Great god, when I die my soul will come to your side!”
Men dragged him away at once.
When the crowd thinned the farce ended.
The High Priestess didn’t discuss the rite—only said respectful: “Holy Maiden, come with me.”
Puzzled, she followed through the church corridor to the innermost secret room.
A fine statue of the Life God stood inside.
“Holy Maiden, don’t blame my ruthlessness. Only executing the disrespectful will the god forgive us.” The High Priestess sighed. “Believe me—everything I do is for the church’s future.”
“You don’t know—ancestors met disaster, drought years, no harvest. The god came in person and saved our people. In gratitude we built the altar and worship.” Devout eyes on the statue. “This stone carving—the token the god left when visiting.”
Praying for peace was one thing—begging the Life God for eternal life was greed too heavy.
“The god governs all life—a finger’s move—why not grant our wish?” The High Priestess still insisted. “We aren’t devout enough—that’s why she’s displeased.”
She didn’t argue. Said nothing.
The High Priestess looked at her, paused, said no more, led her back to quarters.
More days—she tried to pick the false god’s scent in the crowd. Nothing.
Find the false god—maybe find a way out.
The third Descent Rite came without those tedious steps.
She found the High Priestess: “No procedures this time?”
“Holy Maiden, don’t worry. All is planned.”
“Planned? What plan?”
“Tomorrow—we welcome a new god.”
She wanted more questions—attendants took her back to quarters.
Next day in grand dress at the church—everyone stared fixed. Uncomfortable all over.
The High Priestess stood foremost and ordered: “Seize her.”
Hands grabbed her—change too fast to react.
“What are you doing!”
The High Priestess sniffed cold: “The evil god was blind—sent a witch to harm the mortal world. Kill her and we win the true god’s shelter and eternal life!”
Looking at her again the High Priestess hid nothing—ability breath showing, smile hooked.
This was—the false god’s ability scent.
The false god was the High Priestess.
Acting superb, hidden so well—even playing two roles alone.
Believers trusted the High Priestess most.
In a blink Milt the Life God became evil god. Holy Maiden became witch.
In their eyes the evil god’s witch should burn in sacrifice for sin.
The High Priestess cried loud: “The wicked witch brought disaster and ruined the rite! The evil god was cruel to us—we’re weak but we won’t yield!”
“Burn her! Burn her!”
“Burn the evil god’s witch!”
They put the false god above themselves. Never saw a real god—only a vague phantom—and would give life.
Behind fanatic faith—extreme hate and despair.
When they found their god wouldn’t satisfy desire, hate came like a tide and swallowed reason.
Flame under the pillar burned fiercer. In agony she forced out: “Not… me.”
No one heard. The High Priestess’s voice came in her mind: “Holy Maiden—no, I should call you great god. You have supreme power yet won’t grant us eternal life.”
In the old age power was bound—no escape—only endure the pain.
“You play evil god for power—why change the rite with such effort?”
“The rite is real—I altered it to project my image.” Cold. “You’re right—I want power. But more—I want the god to favor us again and descend to earth one day.”
“What do you mean?”
“Great god, I wasn’t fully lying. Ancestors were blessed by the Life God—that started the church. After that the god never came. So they designed the Descent Rite—called again and again—no answer.”
She laughed cold: “So your ancestors thought—control the church as High Priestess, fake the phantom on the altar?”
“You’re clever.” The High Priestess told truth calm. “When I took the church we finally got response—the god sent a Holy Maiden. Pity she was only an empty shell—until you came with the god’s will.”
Mad now: “When you came I was overjoyed, full of hope. You refused again and again—opposed eternal life. If our god is so cold why not kill you and become the new god myself!”
“You’re insane!”
“Call me mad then! If I can’t have eternal life I’ll be the true god for this hundred years!” Another laugh—and no answer in her mind no matter how she called.
A false god on the stage played them all. The real god burned on the pyre.
She knew a god wouldn’t truly die—but the pain was real.
In a haze a red shadow flashed—closer until before her face.
“…Milt?” Eyes open—met the gaze—shock. “No—you’re Jade Dust!”
She woke sharp from the dream—realized her spirit had wandered to that age and lived the past again.
Days in the old age—for now, only one night’s dream.
The old age was real because future her took part—and ended her life there. When consciousness died completely she returned to waking.
Jade Dust’s face at the end—cold sweat.
Was this crossing Jade Dust’s work too?
Outside the window—second morning.
“Ke-ke, you’re awake?” Bai Yanci worried. “What’s wrong? You look so pale.”
After so much she wasn’t who she’d been—could hold emotion, show nothing outward.
She smiled: “Nothing. Just a nightmare.”
“Dreams reverse reality. Don’t dwell. I’m here—don’t be afraid.”
Soft agreement. She almost told the dream—but Bai Yanci’s voice went heavy first: “This morning the bureau chief sent word. Mu refused to hand over the archive—classified.”
“Mu and the chief are at odds—that was expected.” She comforted back. “We have time. No rush.”
Bai Yanci’s eyes darkened. After a long while: “All right.”
Seeing Bai Yanci lost hurt her deep.
Mu’s side—no good plan yet.
By force Mu wasn’t their match. If she wanted she could take her foster mother’s life easy.
But scattered consciousness was in Mu’s hands—and the archive was ability-locked. Others couldn’t read it.
Force hard—Mu would smash the jar. She’d never get truth.
Bai Yanci knew that—why she went to the chief, not straight to Mu’s office.
“Since Mu’s blocked for now we’ll find another way later.” She said, “Sister, why don’t we take Jade Dust together and recover the Spirit Tide jade pendant?”