The Saintess Who Rose Again

Alessa's heart raced as she met Damian's piercing gaze. The faint glow from the rose bush illuminated the sharp lines of his face, highlighting the curiosity—and danger—he carried in his expression. She had been caught red-handed. The faint hum of divine energy still lingered in the air, a testament to what she had just accomplished.

"Damian," she said slowly, carefully keeping her voice steady, "you shouldn't be here."

He smirked, leaning casually against the trunk of a tree. "Neither should you, apparently. You've been sneaking out here every night, haven't you? I couldn't help but wonder why."

Her mind worked quickly, weighing her options. Denying everything would be useless; he'd seen too much. She could threaten him, but that risked making an enemy of someone whose neutrality she desperately needed. Instead, she decided to shift the balance of power.

"You've seen enough to know this isn't something you should meddle in," she said, straightening her posture. "But if you want answers, you'll have to earn them."

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Earn them? And how exactly do you propose I do that?"

"By keeping what you've seen to yourself," Alessa replied. She stepped closer, keeping her gaze locked on his. "This is not a game, Damian. What I'm doing here could change everything. If word of this reaches the wrong people, it could put not only me but others in danger."

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Danger, you say? That makes it sound all the more interesting."

Alessa suppressed a sigh. Damian's penchant for amusement in serious matters had always been his most infuriating trait. But she couldn't afford to let him see her frustration.

"I'm not joking," she said, her tone firm. "There are people in the court who would do anything to undermine me—to take what's mine. If you reveal what you've seen here, you might as well hand them a weapon to use against me."

His smirk faltered slightly, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Fine," he said after a long pause. "I'll keep quiet. But I want something in return."

Alessa's stomach twisted. She had expected as much. Damian was nothing if not opportunistic. "What do you want?"

"Answers," he said simply. "I want to know what you're really doing out here, and why you're suddenly so… different."

Her first instinct was to refuse, but she knew better than to alienate him now. If handled carefully, Damian could become a valuable ally—or at least a neutral observer who wouldn't stand in her way.

"Very well," she said, meeting his gaze evenly. "But not here. This is neither the time nor the place for such a conversation."

"Tomorrow, then," Damian said, stepping back. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the estate.

Alessa exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing only slightly. Damian was a complication she hadn't anticipated, but she couldn't allow him to derail her plans.

The next morning, Alessa rose early, her mind already racing with ideas on how to handle Damian. She needed to decide how much to reveal—and how much to keep hidden.

After breakfast, she found him waiting for her in the library, lounging in one of the armchairs with a book in hand. He looked up as she entered, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"You're punctual," he said, closing the book.

"I don't like to waste time," she replied, taking a seat across from him.

"Neither do I," he said, leaning forward slightly. "So, tell me, Lady Alessa—what exactly are you hiding?"

She folded her hands in her lap, keeping her expression calm. "What you saw last night was the result of my training. I've been gifted with certain abilities, ones that require practice to master."

"Gifted by whom?" Damian asked, his tone skeptical.

"The heavens," she said simply. "I am the saintess, Damian. The celestial mark on my shoulder is proof of that."

For a moment, he stared at her, his gray eyes searching hers. Then he leaned back in his chair, laughing softly.

"You expect me to believe that you're the saintess?" he said, shaking his head. "The chosen one of the heavens, sent to save us all from darkness? It sounds like something out of a fairy tale."

"It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not," Alessa said coolly. "The fact remains that my powers are real. You saw it with your own eyes."

His laughter faded, and his expression grew more serious. "Fine. Let's say I believe you. Why keep it a secret? Shouldn't you be shouting it from the rooftops, letting everyone know how special you are?"

"Because being special makes you a target," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "In this world, power isn't enough. You need strategy, allies, and the ability to see your enemies before they see you. If I reveal my abilities too soon, I'll be crushed before I have the chance to make a difference."

Damian was silent for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then he nodded slowly. "Fair enough. But that doesn't explain why you're telling me this."

"Because I need someone I can trust," Alessa said, leaning forward slightly. "You've always prided yourself on staying neutral, on not taking sides. But neutrality won't save you from what's coming. The court is about to become a battlefield, and you'll have to choose where you stand."

"And you want me to stand with you," he said, his tone skeptical.

"I want you to stand for yourself," she corrected. "But if you're smart, you'll see that aligning with me is the best way to survive what's coming."

Damian studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled faintly.

"You're more cunning than I gave you credit for, Lady Alessa," he said. "I'll consider your offer."

"That's all I ask," she replied, rising to her feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

As she left the library, she felt a flicker of satisfaction. Damian might not be fully on her side yet, but she had planted the seed.

That evening, Alessa returned to the garden for her training. This time, she didn't limit herself to purification. She had read about the saintess's ability to create barriers, shields of divine energy that could repel both physical and magical attacks.

Kneeling on the grass, she closed her eyes and focused. She imagined a protective dome surrounding her, impenetrable and unyielding.

At first, nothing happened. But as she concentrated, a faint glow began to form around her. It flickered like a dying ember, but she didn't give up.

The glow grew brighter, forming a thin, shimmering barrier around her. She opened her eyes, her heart pounding with excitement.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the barrier shattered, the energy dissipating into the air.

Alessa clenched her fists, frustration bubbling within her. She was making progress, but it wasn't enough. If she wanted to survive the storm that was coming, she needed to master her powers completely—and soon.

As she rose to her feet, she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she saw Damian standing at the edge of the garden once again, his expression unreadable.

"You really don't give up, do you?" he said, stepping closer.

"Neither do you," she replied, narrowing her eyes.

He stopped a few steps away, his gaze flickering to the faint traces of energy still lingering in the air.

"You're right about one thing, Alessa," he said. "The court is a battlefield. And if you keep training like this, you might just stand a chance."

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.