Chapter 117: A Divine Response
Chapter 117: A Divine Response
The enormous wings behind her remained half-folded. Thousands upon thousands of feathers layered over one another with breathtaking precision, every edge so finely sculpted that Mirabelle almost expected a breeze to ruffle them.
Her antlers spread wide above her head like the branches of an ancient world tree. From them hung impossibly delicate strands resembling spider silk.
No...
Not silk.
Gold.
Hair-thin golden filaments connected one branch to another, catching the sunlight until they shimmered like countless threads of liquid dawn.
Tiny sapphire and moonstone droplets had been set into them. They resembled morning dew suspended forever between the antlers.
Perched atop her head were two elegant fox ears, standing proudly upright in quiet vigilance. Three delicate golden rings pierced the outer edge of each ear, catching the light whenever it shifted across the sanctuary.
Beneath them rested a second pair. Long, graceful hare ears framed either side of her face, hanging in complete serenity against the cascade of her hair.
The same impossibly fine golden filaments stretched between them, weaving through the soft fur like strands of a spider’s web kissed by dawn. Tiny sapphires and pearls had been worked into the threads, transforming what should have looked fragile into something unmistakably divine.
The contrast fascinated Mirabelle.
The fox ears remained alert, listening to everything.
The hare ears rested peacefully, as though nothing in all creation could possibly disturb their owner.
Watchfulness and absolute tranquility.
Somehow, both existed within the Beast Goddess at the same time.
Long curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Even individual strands had been carved into the marble.
Small golden leaves... flowers... and more of those impossibly delicate golden threads had become tangled within them, transforming what should have looked like neglected spiderwebs into jewelry worthy of a goddess.
Her porcelain mask was perfectly smooth.
Featureless.
Expressionless.
And yet...
Mirabelle could have sworn she was being watched.
Not by the empty eye slits. But by something that existed behind them.
Every time Mirabelle thought the statue looked compassionate...
the angle of the light shifted.
Suddenly it seemed calculating.
Ancient.
Patient.
As though it had watched civilizations rise...
...and quietly witnessed them crumble back into dust.
The sensation disappeared again almost immediately. Leaving only the mask.
Silent.
Unreadable.
Perfect.
Only now did Mirabelle notice the gemstones.
Tiny blue sapphires traced impossibly intricate patterns across the golden filigree that adorned the statue’s neck, arms and waist. White opals caught the sunlight like captured stars.
Every gemstone had been set so naturally into the sculpture that they appeared less like decorations... and more like condensed fragments of magic itself.
No expense had been spared. No craftsman alive could have created something like this alone.
This wasn’t merely a statue.
It was devotion made stone.
Mirabelle slowly turned in place.
The immense sanctuary was utterly silent.
No chanting echoed through the dome.
No worshippers knelt in prayer.
No footsteps disturbed the polished marble.
Only she...
her mates...
and the masked priest remained beneath the endless dome.
Even their breathing sounded strangely loud.
The silence didn’t feel empty.
It felt...
occupied.
As though the temple itself had paused...
waiting to see what would happen next.
A movement caught Mirabelle’s attention.
The priest was beckoning her forward. He was already standing before the statue of the Beast Goddess.
Beside it, he looked like a mouse standing next to a wolf.
Mirabelle immediately tore herself away from her awe and made her way toward the altar.
Each footstep echoed through the towering columns and vanished high beneath the great dome overhead.
The closer she came to the statue, the smaller she felt. Through the bonds connecting her to her Beastmen, she sensed they felt the same.
What had surprised her most was the absolute reverence the three of them had experienced the moment they entered the temple.
In her old world, a god had been something abstract. Many believed. No one truly knew.
Here...
There was no belief. Only knowledge.
And even she, who had always been skeptical by nature, knew through the system that the Beast Goddess truly existed.
Once again, her gaze traveled over the towering stone figure of the female Beast deity as she came to a stop before the altar.
Kaelith stood to her left. Silas and Lucien to her right.
It felt as though the statue’s eyes had followed her across the entire temple. Though all she could see were narrow slits carved into its mask-like face. Even now, she could almost feel that ancient being looking down upon them. Studying them.
The three Beastmen felt it too.
Had she seen the priest’s arms, she would’ve noticed goosebumps spreading across them.
’She’s here.’
Reverence filled the Beastman who had devoted his entire life to serving the Beast Goddess.
No one knew that he had traveled across the continent because the Goddess herself had guided him to this temple. She had entrusted him with a task so important that it would never pass his lips.
Only twice before in his life had he felt her presence.
And now...
She was here.
In his temple.
Because of her.
His gaze settled on the Beast female before him. The heir of Luchsenstein. The greatest responsibility of his life.
"The Beast Goddess welcomes you into her temple."
The priest spread his arms wide, as though embracing the entire sanctuary.
When his eyes returned to Mirabelle, they had softened. As though confirming his own words.
She felt the air around her begin to crackle.
It reminded her of a Beastman’s aura.
Only...Heavier.
Older.
A tingling sensation swept across her skin.
It was unsettling. Yet it inspired neither fear nor pain.
It simply was.
Present.
"Please step forward and place your hands upon the altar."
The priest’s voice remained calm. As though everything unfolding was perfectly ordinary.
Mirabelle thought nothing more of it.
She had no idea that the priest was barely holding himself together.bNever before had he seen the temple filled with the Goddess’s power.
Golden mist drifted through the sacred hall before his eyes. Glittering particles danced through the air. Brilliant flashes illuminated the vaulted ceiling overhead.
And he could feel the ancient stone drinking in the Goddess’s power like parched earth absorbing rain.
Almost simultaneously, Mirabelle and her mates stepped forward and carefully placed their hands upon the rough stone.
A wave of astonishment rippled through their mate bonds like a storm stirring the sea.
The altar was warm beneath their fingertips.
And it pulsed. As though it possessed a heartbeat.
The priest placed his own hand upon the altar as well. He had to summon every ounce of restraint not to jerk it away.
The stone, usually cold as winter, was as warm as a Beastman’s body.
It was alive.
For one impossible moment, it felt as though he were touching the Goddess herself. Silently, he begged forgiveness for such sacrilege.
The bright, bell-like laughter of a woman filled his ears. With his next breath, it felt as though he had inhaled fresh mountain air scented with wild herbs.
Calmed...
Yet still overwhelmed with wonder...
He continued the ritual.
"You who have chosen to walk the remainder of your lives as mates...
Present your bond before the Beast Goddess and ask for her blessing upon your future.
Await her answer with reverence."
One could have heard a pin drop inside the temple. Mirabelle scarcely dared to breathe.
She had no idea what was supposed to happen next.
A grinding sound echoed through the temple.
Every head jerked upward at the same instant.
Fine stone dust rained from the statue’s enormous wings.
They were moving.
Actually moving.
Slowly they stretched. The carved feathers shivered, as though shaking off the weight of centuries spent frozen in stone.
Little by little...
The wings unfolded.
Light pouring through the crystal windows danced across each feather, giving them such startling realism that, for a heartbeat, Mirabelle forgot they were still carved from stone.
Her mouth fell open.
Beneath her hand, the heartbeat within the altar quickened, as though moving those colossal wings required tremendous effort.
Then they stood fully spread behind the otherwise motionless statue. Their tips reached diagonally toward the dome, nearly brushing the great stone arches high above.
One final rustle passed through them, as though they were settling into place.
Then, with one last quiet tremor, they froze once more.
The silence that followed was almost painful.
Only after several long seconds did Mirabelle manage to tear her eyes away from the statue and look at the priest.
She couldn’t make out his expression beneath the mask. But his rigid posture said more than enough. Still, she nodded toward the wings overhead:
"...Does that happen often?"
The eyes behind the narrow slits turned toward her. They were wide with disbelief.
"That..." The priest’s voice was barely more than a whisper. "...is the first time anything like this has ever been recorded in the history of the temples."
’A simple no would’ve been enough...’
Mirabelle grumbled inwardly.
Did he really have to make it sound that dramatic?