Chapter 5

Mariax felt an urge to raise her hand and cover her chest. Those blue eyes seemed to dig past her skin, all the way to her faintly beating heart. Before the thought of danger could even form, she instinctively took a step back. Lawidy, too, seemed to act on some instinct—her hand shot out the moment Mariax retreated. A hand veined with thick vessels aimed to seize Mariax’s arm with force.

But just then, a large snowflake landed on the back of Lawidy’s hand. And she froze in place. Only her pupils shifted slowly. Mariax realized what she was looking toward—beyond her shoulder.

It was the place where the true “god,” the one above all gods—oldest, strongest, most beautiful, and most perfect among the gods of the primordial mountains—lay asleep. Before falling into slumber, the great god had given Lawidy a command.

“This one is too fragile. Make sure she does not come to harm. Take good care of her.”

Her conflicted gaze swept from “this one’s” pale, trembling lips to the way her entire body shook as if with a quake. With a sigh full of irritation, Lawidy shattered the heavy silence. She twisted the hand that had been about to grab Mariax, folding her arms arrogantly as she looked down at her. It was the usual Lawidy again. Who would have thought that the disdainful look she reserved for crawling insects could ever be a relief?

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Ulri and Ba’en quickly rushed over and began dressing Mariax. All the while, Lawidy said nothing, lips drawn into a thin line as if something didn’t sit right with her. Normally, her expression would have been followed by snide remarks, but today was different. She smiled—softly, almost as if she might melt.

“Still cold?”

“Yes.”

“Poor thing. You wouldn’t have wanted to be born with a body that’s only half-done like this, would you?”

“No.”

Lawidy bent forward, bringing her face close to Mariax’s. The hand that had earlier looked vicious, pulsing with veins, now stroked her cheek as if it had never done anything rough.

“Looking at your pitiful face reminded me of something, you know? For someone like you…” 

Just her gaze alone perfectly conveyed what she meant by “someone like you…” 

“Even someone like you might have a way to fill in what’s lacking.”

Mariax blinked.

“Eat the heart of a god or a divine beast,” Lawidy whispered sweetly. “They say if you eat it while it’s still beating, you can absorb divine power. We, of course, have no need for such things… but you’re in a different situation, aren’t you?”

The “we” she spoke of referred to the gods of Heimdrix. Though Mariax was technically one of them, she was never included in that “we.”

“Of course, it’ll be hard to find a target within Heimdrix. Even the demigods down in the valley are stronger than you, so they’re out. Honestly, Mariax, how do you plan to survive without me?”

She would probably survive much better.

“Let me tell you something good,” Lawidy continued in a pleasantly gentle tone. “A human faction recently settled on the far side of the river.”

As she spoke, Mariax pictured the land beyond the river. Like Heimdrix, it was a silent expanse blanketed in white. Long ago, humans and various other races had once lived there, but for the past century, all traces of them had disappeared under the snow.

“They say a famous hero from the continent is leading them. Supposedly pretty strong, so they probably hold more divine energy than your average human. But in the end, a human is still a human. Surely even you can handle one human, right?”

When Mariax nodded slightly, Lawidy responded in a brighter tone, as if coaxing her, “Take that human’s heart, Mariax. It won’t make you like me, but at least you might not suffer from the cold as much.”

As she placed a dramatic period on her story, Lawidy looked at Mariax expectantly. But Mariax neither brightened as if receiving great news nor bowed in thanks. She just blinked. At the underwhelming reaction, Lawidy narrowed her eyes.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“If not, then what?”

“The idea of eating a heart while it’s still beating is just…”

“What?”

“A little disgusting.”

Lawidy was momentarily speechless, having been cut off mid-snide reply. She was stunned. “You, who eat larvae crawling in dirt, say that’s disgusting…?”

Suppressing the raw truth that had slipped out, Lawidy quickly put her sweet mask back on and resumed trying to persuade Mariax. And Mariax, for her part, nodded diligently, pretending to listen in order to appease her. Then she shattered Lawidy’s delicate pretense with casual words like, “Ulri and Ba’en once cooked reindeer heart for me. It was fishy,” and “So I don’t think human hearts are really to my taste either.”

If I stay here any longer, I might really kill this half-baked creature. Filled with fury to the very top of her head, Lawidy stormed off. The clearing was left riddled with holes from her rampage. Ulri and Ba’en, who loved the soft, unspoiled snow like a carpet, were disheartened.

“Why is her personality getting worse every time she visits?”

“She’s mean.”

Mariax finally let out the sigh she’d been holding. Her mind felt oddly unsettled. This wasn’t the first time Lawidy had shown up and raised hell. She’d seen the occasional thirst flickering in Lawidy’s eyes before—but today, that faint desire had become blunt and shameless.

Also, today Lawidy was “gentle,” “smiling,” and trying to “help” by “kindly” “persuading.” It wasn’t just a little strange—every bit of it was off. Perhaps she thought she was offering a sweet lure, but Mariax felt only threatened.

Mariax gazed into the space Lawidy had vanished into. Her breath fogged the air. She had no way of knowing what Lawidy truly wanted. Even if she did, it wouldn’t change what she herself was capable of. So thinking about it was meaningless.

Before she realized it, the sky had turned orange. Mariax took the boys’ hands and returned to the temple. It was time to choose a book from the wood-carving-slash-junk-storage room.

Evening came. The ground trembled from afar. The frost giants had awakened. Mariax lay down on her creaky, old bed and closed her eyes. Even with the windows shut, she could clearly hear the snow falling. The thick flakes made soft popping sounds, like embers crackling from a fire. Listening to the sound, she burned away everything Lawidy had said. Things like how to grow stronger, or the hero who’d settled in the ruins across the river—none of it had anything to do with her.

When she opened her eyes, tomorrow would be the same as always. And after ten such nights, these stirred-up feelings would be long forgotten.

***

Exactly ten days had passed since Lawidy’s tantrum. Mariax was faced with a shocking reality. Her belief in a perfectly repetitive life had begun to fracture.

The meals had changed. Considering the twins’ usual “throw everything in” approach to cooking, today’s dish was far too suspicious. A clear meat stew made only from reindeer meat and snow, with just a hint of grease and fur floating on top. The ingredients were so simple and ordinary that the taste was surprisingly normal.

Why… does it taste normal? Why… is it good?

Startled, Mariax found herself thinking something rather rude. The twins had always acted like the number and quantity of ingredients equaled the amount of love poured into a dish. By their standards, this meal was the equivalent of something scrounged up off the ground. But the devoted clerics Ulri and Ba’en had never once served her food that wasn’t made with care.

She stirred the stew with her bent spoon. Upon closer inspection, the portion size was different, too. The cut-up meat would vanish in about four spoonfuls. Reflecting on how she hadn’t noticed earlier, Mariax was struck by how meticulous the twins had been. Yesterday, it had been about five spoonfuls; two days ago, six. They had gradually reduced the portions to avoid suspicion.

There was another odd detail: the twins, who always chattered beside her during meals, had not come out of the kitchen. After finishing her meal in exactly four spoonfuls, Mariax moved toward them. In the small pantry off the kitchen, Ulri and Ba’en were huddled together with serious faces.

“Ulri, Ba’en?”

The two clerics jumped in surprise.

“Mistress! What are you doing here?!”

“We told you not to come in.”

It sounded like something rebellious teenage sons would say, but it was spoken entirely out of love for Mariax. They constantly insisted, “A great god should never enter the kitchen,” and “Eating the meals and wearing the clothes we prepare—that is the duty of a great god.” Chastised so harshly, Mariax stepped back out of the kitchen. The twins followed her.

“Please don’t come looking for us. A great god doesn’t seek out her servants.”

“Just call our names—we’ll come running, Mistress.”

“Okay, I’ll do that next time.”

“But, what’s the matter?”

Only after hearing the question did Mariax remember why she’d sought them out.

“The meal portion was small.”