…

  She opened her eyes. Light seeped into her sight. It was dull, silver, and nothing like the light of the sun. It was then, with that realization, that she took stock of her situation. Her mind took it all in.

  The sky was bnk, full of silver and blue light from the moon that sat in the void that was the night sky. Her mind reeled at the sight. The starkness was rather sudden. The difference between the real night sky, and whatever this was.

  Vistilia didn’t know what was going on. One minute, she was in a temple to a goddess she barely knew of, then next she was here. Her thoughts were jumbled. Yet she knew that she needed to take stock of her situation.

  She then sat up, with arms that belonged to her, yet not. The simple fact of her sitting up drew her attention to herself. Phantom pain lingered on her skin, like she had sudden growing pains that came te. It wasn’t truly painful, really just uncomfortable.

  She was sitting on a ft pin, with white colored grass. The grass flowed in an invisible wind, the swaying of the long bdes drawing her sight. There was no noise, though. It was as if she was in heaven once more.

  Her arms were long, like that of an adult, not her infant arms that didn’t even function properly yet. Her skin was smooth, smooth as silk. Like milk, it was colored; and her garb was a ste grey. It was as if she was cd in fabric made of stone.

  She stood, her eyes trailing off of herself, and to the strangest thing in this pce. It was a table. A table made of painted metal, like those strangely decorated porch furniture. Painted white, it was, just like the grass that waved around as she started walking toward it.

  Her gaze then was drawn to the next strangest thing, bumping itself up to the first strangest thing. It was a woman. A woman with the bckest hair that one could conceive of. Her skin was like the moon, greyish-white, with dark and oddly shaped freckles that brought to mind craters.

  She wore thin, white clothes. It was as if she was wearing thin sheets of paper. Though, it didn’t move as paper would. More like normal fabric when caught in the wind.

  Her eyes were closed, a teacup in her hand. Her pinky was raised, as if she was waiting for Vistilia to sit. What was simply weird, was that she was simply sitting there. Completely and utterly stock still, as if frozen in time.

  Vistilia looked on at this woman. Her face was perfect. She had gotten up right next to the table, and sat down on the metal chair in front of the woman’s. This was so she could take a better look at her. In that instant, though, time seemed to pass for the woman.

  Her eyes opened slightly, a smile directed at Vistilia, graced her face. Her chest expanded and contracted as she breathed. She was awake, and obviously aware of the other girl.

  “Hello, little one,” she spoke to Vistilia, her voice was like sleep, utterly entrancing, “It’s good to see you face to face. You look so beautiful,” The woman spoke.

  Vistilia’s eyes widened. Her memory pulling up the sound of the other woman’s voice from the depths of her mind. It didn’t have to go that deep to find her. This voice belonged to that of the Goddess in the temple that had spoken to her.

  “My, my,” The goddess said, “so many thoughts run through your mind all at once,” she said and leaned forward, “I wonder what your dreams will look like when that real brain of yours develops fully.”

  Vistilia leaned back. Her face moving away from the goddess that was obviously Faericka. The goddess giggled at the reaction. Her smile never leaving her face. The sound sent the reincarnation’s heart fluttering. Her very sound was like the draw of pure gold.

  “Why am I here? I don’t have a quarrel with a goddess. I don’t go to your temple and pray, as right now I am pretty sure I’m supposed to be an infant. So, I ask again, why?” she asked, her voice strained as the presence of the moon goddess finally began to make itself known.

  The goddess giggled once more. She then spoke, word words coming to Vistilia’s ears clearly and cleanly. With her voice, came the presence. It reared its head at her. It was as if she had just realized that gravity existed, and that it affected her.

  Her presence, her godly aura, pulled her in. It was powerful, it was mighty, and it was frightening. Vistilia pulled herself into her seat even more so than she already had. The goddess of course, noticed this.

  “I am sorry for startling you, new child of mine. Yet, as a goddess, I can only hold my power and presence back so much. Anymore, and you would truly join my domain. I can only tell you this, at least pertaining to why I am here and are talking to you,” the goddess said, then paused and sipped her tea.

  It was in that moment that Vistilia noticed that she had a teacup pced in front of her.   Had it been there the entire time? Who knows, all she knew was that there was a rather nice smelling aroma coming from it.

  She grabbed the teacup as the goddess in front of her did. Pointing her pinky finger up and taking a gnce at Faericka, she noticed a small smirk py across her lips. Vistilia ignored this, and brought the cup to her lips, pulling it from the tray that it sat in.

  The smell reminded her of Banana tea. Of which she had had a grand total of a single time in her past life as Norman. She breathed it in more deeply, and then tasted it. It did not taste like bananas.

  Godly fvor filled her mouth. In that moment, she felt like she was about to die of sensory overstimution. Yet, she didn’t. The tea, after a bit of time in her mouth, started to taste like banana tea. Her mind, now fully on the tea in front of her as if it were about to grow legs and kill her, didn’t notice the goddess in front of her smiling.

  “As I was saying,” she suddenly started, causing Vistilia to look up from her tea, “I have words and wisdom to grace you with. I am Faericka, goddess of death, mercy the moon, sleep, and wisdom. I am here to simply tell you some things and let you know that I need you,” the goddess said, earning a look from Vistilia.

  “I need you because gods and deities are tied to fate, unlike you mortals who have free will. So, in order to change the world outside of that fate, I need you as a extension of my power,” she paused, taking a sip of tea.

  “When you are of age, I shall give you a quest, and you shall complete it. Until then, and past then, you shall be known as a, “Vraelin.” This means, “Death touched,” in the old tongue. My old champions were the founders of your nation. That is why it is named such,” she finished, “You shall learn more as you grow. Both from me, and the world you live in.”

  “The name of the nation I live in is Vraelin? I didn’t even know that common knowledge. This may be too soon,” Vistilia said with a quirk of her brow.

  “Yes, yes. I know that child of mine,” she said, then was about to say something else, but the world shook, “Oh, your body seems to be waking. Please remember this meeting, Little one!” she said finally, the world fading out of focus.

  …

  Leris looked at his daughter in his arms. He sat in the temple, in one of the pews. The light of the moon filtered through the windows, dying the room in dull light as it changed colors. He sighed as she stared up at him, her eyes wide and full of life.

  So, it seems to me that the child is not, in fact, the champion of an evil god,” the priest said with a hand to his chin, “her features seem to have changed though. It is as if she is Death Touched,” he said while trailing off.

  “She may be,” said the governor, “Her face is leaner, and her eyes glint like metal. That are the features of the Founders, and all champions of the three goddesses,” he said helpfully.

  “My little Vistilia, graced by Faericka,” Leris mumbled under his breath, “I would love her just the same if she wasn’t Vraelin.”

  …

  Zogsalken