Secret Diary of the Goddess of Light: Champion
Is this love? No. It is a return of his devotion, yet I cannot tell him that or even whisper it to others. So I write for only I alone may know these thoughts, lest they see me weak.
Yet I still want him by my side to understand this and feel these feelings, perhaps. As my champion? Yes, he can stay forever with his devotion. Maybe in time, he will be worthy of divinity, and we can be more?
Such a dirty thought, yet why do I smile and long for more? I must play coy and tread carefully, lest I burn all to ash for knowing my secret shame—that I could feel anything for a mortal that I should only have disdain for.
For he was the first to be devoted and look upon me and not look away in shame or defiance. I would burn to ash any other, but from him I want the look to remain.
—Lost to Time, page one from the Secret Diary of the Goddess of Light
As she sat upon her throne waiting in anticipation for his arrival, she tried to remain aloof. He was just a mortal, yet she wished he would he would hurry, to be by her side. The wait was a thrilling pain she knew not how to handle as she waited and watched, finally seeing the messenger delivering him. Her angel messenger led him deeper into her halls, where she waited. Everywhere one could look was a pristine shine reflecting all except her light, which refused to bend to others' will, showing only the pure were welcome here—as nothing was more pure than her light.
He finally got close enough she could stare more clearly. The mirrors of light she made to see him always showed him more distant. The last look of him she saw was in a battle with him pushing himself to the edge. Now she could stare more clearly and admire her prize.
He was rugged; some would say filthy, but not her. She knew every scar, mud stain, and grit was earned and carried in her name. His sword was chipped and worn, needing repair; she saw it as rare metal instead. He wore loose leather, but against beasts it helped little, though it was still there. His hair was long and matted, mixed with his beard, hiding most of his face. It seemed he tried to bathe before that last battle, but the land of rot made it a hard affair. And he did just fight in her name... She wished she had cleansed him in her waters before he appeared; she could see his body more fully then and know him better.
Blushing, she stopped those thoughts. Admiring was fine, unless she took it too far. Going there—she needed to remember he was a tool, a weapon, and came as such.
Yet she saw no fear when he was finally there, kneeling before her. He was the first and only one who dared to look at her as she sat there, and her voice was lost with the stare of intense, flaming green emerald eyes. She could do nothing but stare back.
His face morphed into confusion as I did not speak. He knelt and his voice, a deep growl, filled the air. "Goddess, word was sent; you have need of me. I'm here to serve."
He came for her and wished to serve with such devotion. She knew long before he uttered the words from his lips, but it was so sweet to hear, and a smile bloomed upon her lips.
"Nonsense, you are my champion and will always be welcome here."
Confusion once more entered his eyes. Aha, I move too quickly; I have not announced it yet. He is a simple man. I need to be clearer.
"I make you my champion; do you serve me?"
She already knew but still longed to hear it, as a pleasure she did not know could exist bloomed when he gave her the words she longed for.
"Of course, goddess, we all live to serve, and those foolish enough to reject, I will hunt in your stead."
She wanted to squeal in delight; he would hunt and not even need to be commanded. Oh, he is more than worthy of my light, yet why have him fight? He can stay here lest he be covered in rot once more. Yes, he will stay by my side and serve and learn how to maneuver others to fight. Why dirty his hands among filth when he will be a light by my side?
"Goddess, if I may be so bold, will you grant me light to fight the monsters and blight? The world can be better if they know you care."
What? She wasn't sure what he was saying. Why fight? You already won my favor and proved your worth... Why go back to vermin that gnaw away at your worth and demand more? No... stay with me... you're mine alone.
"Don't be silly, champion; you are my light. The people are blessed enough with that. You earned your blessing; embrace it."
Smiling, she tried looking away shyly to catch his eye, but instead, she saw annoyance. That made no sense. Why? Her chest felt tight with a feeling she didn't recognize. She had offered him the highest honor, the ultimate reward, yet he looked... displeased? It was an unfamiliar emotion that made her feel small. Did I do something wrong?
"Does my gift displease you?" She refused to believe she did anything wrong, but she needed to hear why he felt her offer lacked... Oh my, perhaps he wants more? That's a bit much too soon and so bold... But if he pushes, compromises must be made... This once.
"You may speak your mind; I will accommodate small grievances—you earned that right," blushing more, she went on, "but do not be too bold; we must keep temperance lest others talk."
"I understand, goddess, and thank you for being willing to bend for me. Your willingness to listen is more than I deserve. I will serve even if you gave me nothing."
Such flattery—I will bend more than you know if you ask, but only you...
"The king keeps sending knights to the garrison of the rot lands and the monsters to hunt. I was among them, fighting; it was smaller waves when I was there, or I would be dead."
She listened with half interest and shock that he was not happy. I told him he would be on my side. Why does he care about what will be dust in an eon? Does he not know the extent of my gift? Why risk saving mortal nothings? Yet he went on...
"But good knights died hunting those monsters. I ask you to only send the unworthy; let them earn their place, let the knights serve the kingdom safely till threats make it closer to our walls, then send them."
"I ask this not lightly, so I swear to help keep killing in your name."
She was conflicted. It was what she wanted; she wanted to hear her champion killing forever only for her, yet it would not be him staying by her side, not him wanting more...
Maybe.
This was human courtship? Yes... that made sense. They do play coy and play parts; they just do... things after. Perhaps this is his way of courting me? So bold... I approved...
"As you wish, I will allow it." Smiling, blooming, learning the game they played.
Light formed in her hand, personal and real essence from her soul only for him. He may ingest it and gain power, and she will not scorn him. No, she will give him more... He needs power to stand beside me lest others question his worth... She will give him more when he asks.
Her champion gently took it, and he seemed to glow as impurity washed away as if by her will, and all that was left was the better him—more pure, clean, and perfect.
He stood straight, proud, defiant, and worthy of opposing others who questioned her rule. She wanted to embrace him, welcome him home, and create a chair for him to sit beside her as they gossiped about mindless affairs.
She vaguely knew this was a dream as she watched him. She wasn't sure why it was too vivid, too strong a desire. No... It was the sense of loss, but why?
"Because you killed me," her champion said coldly, just standing there... I did? Yes... I did.
"It was a mistake. I saw the taint. I thought you betrayed me. I would never harm you intentionally."
"Yet you did; even now you hunt me with indifference, but I'm not your champion anymore."
"NO!"
"DON'T LEAVE ME!"
"I was never yours."
"You were a false god unworthy of my devotion."
Tears streamed from her eyes; she no longer cared who watched. "Please don't speak such words. Kneel and serve once more; all will be forgiven."
Yet even as she watched, darkness pooled at his feet and the light he held shattered in his grip, splashing darkness that engulfed him from head to toe, and Abaddon stared back at her, cold and indifferent—not her champion, not her desire...
"I walk alone. You mean nothing." No blade could cut so deep as those words he chose. A beam smashed and shattered his form, leaving only ash, but his voice echoed in the fragments: "Even now you choose to kill me and expect me to serve..."
She awoke, tears freely falling but hidden with her hair fallen in front of her face. She brushed the hair back with the tears. The gentle music never stopped, nor did the emptiness. Yes, she was awake now... It hurt too much for it to be a dream when she was happy.
———
The messenger angel came back from the city a week ago, yet watched his goddess seem listless. He remembered her past—cold, aloof self, perhaps cruel to those beneath her, but a necessary thing, lest others use your kindness as weakness. That was a truth he knew well and accepted with indifference. He was among the blessed; what did it matter what happened to the rest...?
Then she changed when he came.
They were not allowed to look upon her; she was a light above them, they all knew well, but none could look away on the day they heard the impossible—the day she laughed with joy...
He was among them bearing witness, and perhaps they would all meet ash as their fate if not for the same cause that gave her that joy: her new champion. More shocking was the way he looked upon her, not with fear or reverence as required, but something more, which was an odd contrast... frustration?
Madness...
Her laughing, beautiful face full of life at his smirking face was something they all witnessed that day. Never willing to risk looking long before, he was able to see the golden hair, the radiant smile, and blue eyes so clear it was all transfixing. Until the face of golden light turned dark and spoke, "I did not tell you to stop."
The voice froze his blood to hear that day as he thought their fate was sealed. The singers were not singing, and the prayers were not echoing among them, as all were too stunned to act, hearing the goddess laugh before. Even he knew as a messenger he would not be spared just for bearing witness and not commanding them to sing. Instead, he just stared...
Once more a surprise that day made them think maybe they had more worth than they knew. Those beneath them may be lower, but they had worth o…once the champion spoke true "Be nice, goddess; they merely wish to admire you and your laugh, and if they stare, it's because I'm here." He took the blame and offered them salvation with nothing to gain. The champion stood for them when they were too afraid to move or speak.
Yet even as they all looked away, accepting his fate was sealed and his death a afterthought, the praise and singing started once more in the goddess's name. They were almost choked into silence once more when she did what none had seen before... She showed mercy and forgave not only them but him as well because he was willing to take the blame for what was really their shame.
I should have spoken then, the angel thought. But I was too afraid.
"Nonsense, my champion, it is not a burden for you to bear; they just need to learn you alone are always welcome in my presence, so it won't seem like such an odd affair when you're always here. I will allow it this once for you."
"I have people to protect. I cannot stay here, you know that, and I do it in your name; it should be enough." He spoke what seemed like madness; the goddess welcomed him with the highest honors to look upon her, to stay near her with no contempt, and he wanted more?
No, less... He wished to leave.
What was among that rot that was so much better than a palace in the sky? The messenger thought more about it. Aha, the poor man was addled in the head; living among rot, it made sense. He just needed time, and the goddess knew it. Maybe that's why she tried to heal him, to help him see...
How long ago were those memories? The champion came many times since, always with the same grit, always that dirty look; even with the light washing it away, he still looked like filth to the angel always forced to carrying him and listen to a idealism from the champion that went nowhere, but the goddess never shared his judgment and the champion only ever showed them all respect—a little too much like equals for his taste versus the reverence they deserved, but he had her favor, so perhaps he was better in that respect...
And yet no matter the blessing or times passed the champion always seemed tired?
It was hard to remember; he could not care less if not for the champion being an annoyance they tolerated with the goddess's favor, he would forget him entirely in time even now his memory was so fresh do to been forced to carry him and listen as if a test.
Truthfully, they all felt the goddess wasted her gifts and time on him. Even now the champion had been gone for a while doing what? He knew she could watch him with her light; he had seen the goddess watch the champion fight randomly when she stared into a mirror of magic to observe him... But the last words said was the champion was on a special mission for her, so why not watch?
What happened... That even now he not forced to carry that burden once more.
A nagging thought ate at him as he stood defiantly in the halls, wishing to join in silent prayers to ease his mind, but one thought kept coming back. How the champion had stood for them when they were too cowardly to speak. And now the champion was gone from his routine visits, something felt wrong in that human city—a smell, and that growing rot he had sensed. If something threatened the champion's people, shouldn't she know? If she could care for one mortal, perhaps she would understand concern for many. The least he could do was to stand for the champion's people when the champion could not.
It sickened him a bit to think of all the dirty filth they spread, but the champion showed them they could be redeemed somewhat if given a chance...
Did he really care when he was happy always just standing their?
Risking a glance towards the goddess; she was brushing golden hair from her face, lost in thought. He would distract her from those petty things with a genuine concern, and if not? Then he would accept her dismissal; he had earned the right to a verbal warning. As long as he didn't push, he would be safe.
He paused, remembering the champion's bold words said so many times and met with her laughter. He would never be so blasphemous and would choose his words carefully. Steadying himself, he marched to seek her counsel. If a mortal could speak freely, surely a loyal angel could ask one question in concern for her champions people.
All those in the hall singing and praying ignored his actions, lost in their own bliss in servitude. Even as he wished to do the same, he needed to know for peace of mind and settle a debt the champion did not know he was making. Truthly he did not know it till he walked what he felt till now but it became cleaer with each step perpahps he did respect the champion.
The dirty, foul smelling, rot filled, champion, but he was still there, champion….
Finally before her, he stood proud and ready to bow, he spoke of his concerns: "Goddess, I believe something is happening in the city of humans, and though the champion may be on a secret mission, it does nothing to address what grows there. Maybe I should investigate if you wish, or you can look into it if I'm unworthy to do so, my goddess."
"I ask in part for the champion since he cares for those mortals, and cannot be there in part to handle it himself."
He was now bowing, ready for whatever she said. Yet when she did speak, it was not what he thought he would hear; he was unsure he even heard the right words as she spoke them.
“Who gave you leave to speak?”
Aha, he had assumed too much. Well, at least now he knew and would apologize and wait for her to offer him an answer when she desired.
As he was about to apologize for assuming and overstepping and go back to his place in a corner, the floor opened beneath him. He could see the clouds parting as he fell. He had seen the sight many times flying in the sky but never while bowing before the goddess. As he fell through the floor, an echo of her next words followed.
"You are unworthy to stand in my halls."
She was rejecting him this much? Would he be an outcast to live among the lower class, the rot of the land? Yet still more words followed, chilling him even more, and he knew not what went wrong. He had merely asked a question and would submit regardless of her response...
"I gave you the light; I now take it back."
What flowed from him warm and pure now became fire tearing at his flesh, burning his flesh. He wished to scream, but all was engulfed in the light as it was pulled from him, leaving only scattered ash. His last thoughts in the madness of pain were remembering why the goddess was not just a name; she was a god above them, to never question... only obey her whims...
———
The bishop, lost in despair and prayers on the rooftop balcony, pled once more for a sign from the goddess. The slum guards and even knights stood against him, yet it seemed she had saved them from a plague of bandits they could not stop—no one else could make them all just disappear...
He remembered trying to build a church in the middle class and their control was so suffering to the point it was easier to settle and try to control the slums. Yet now? They were all gone, and all the middle class begged to give him tribute, maybe even move his church back... Yet the slums were still full of rot and his shame. What should he do?
Something caught his eye in the distance as he watched on, unsure at first.
He then wept with joy as he saw the light streak across the sky; it was a sign from the goddess blessing him once more. It looked almost like a golden flame. A golden light... Maybe a purifying fire?... yes, she's showing me the way. Flame cleanses all corruption. "Thank you, goddess."
"I will remember and find those that bring you shame." He now felt full of life; he did not need the guards, he did not need the knights. The goddess had given him the right to use flame on whores and filth, so if they would not hide their shame, he would cleanse it with flame.
and then Add to home screen.