A Saint's Limits

The sun dipped behind the horizon, leaving only a few scattered rays over Maria.

She rested on the pristine marble floor of the ceremonial hall, but she had recovered enough. The Holy Capital surely still needed help. Her grand spell had ended the chaos, but it couldn’t repair broken buildings or mend anguish.She stared up at Kaelan with narrowed eyes, who stood with crossed arms in defiance of her suggestion. Sure, her legs were heavy as lead, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help.

He really can be stubborn sometimes.

Maria held her outstretched arms toward Kaelan, like a demanding, disgruntled toddler. “Pick me up,” she insisted. “We have to go. The people in the streets might still need help.”

He looked down at her with a deadpan expression. "You can't even stand."

“That’s why I need you to carry me.” She wiggled her reaching fingers.

“All the way down this endless tower and through the entire city?”

Maria nodded with a mischievous grin. “I don’t ask for much.”

Kaelan sighed. “Maria, you don't have a single trace of mana left in your body."

“Even without magic… I can still try, right?”

Kaelan stared at her outstretched hands. A subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips while he shook his head. “You are ridiculously stubborn.”

He picked her up onto his back, and she immediately looped her arms around his neck and settled her head against his shoulder.

“You mean, you,” she whispered, making him shiver.

“D-Don’t do that.”

Maria chuckled. She tightened her arms around him.

“You face off against a Demon General and a pack of Aberrations,” she whispered once more, “and this makes you nervous?”

Kaelan loosened his hold around her legs, making her slip. “I’m dropping you.”

“S-Sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll stop!”

Kaelan carried Maria through long, silent corridors where the dying sunlight struggled past stained-glass windows adorned with holy figures. The descent from the top floors of the tower continued through a labyrinth of winding marble halls and grand, spiraling staircases.

His pace slowed as he navigated the third long flight of stairs. He paused and adjusted Maria on his back, holding her firmly. She could tell he tired.

“Are you okay…?”

“I’m fine.” He continued the descent.

“If I'm too heavy, you can just let me be.”

“In the middle of the staircase?”

“...I can make it down on my own.”

“Not right now, you can’t. And what happened to your reasonable request to carry you through the capital streets?”

Maria pouted slightly.

“Stop worrying so much.” Kaelan sighed. “I know my tattered and stained clothes may not show it, but I feel quite energized. Thanks to you.”

“So… you don’t deny I’m heavy…” she muttered.

“You’re not heavy, see!” Kaelan bounced her up and down, making her voice tremble. “In fact, you’re far too light! Were they even feeding you in here?”

Maria chuckled. She settled into the comfort of his broad back. “Funny you should ask…”

Maria chattered in a soft voice. She told him about her days inside the gilded cage—about the young, terrified guard who brought her meals, and how he convinced her to quench her thirst when there no longer seemed a reason to eat or drink.

Kaelan’s steps echoed through the staircase, along with Maria’s whispers.

She spoke of Malakor when he still hid behind the mask of “Vane”, about the ritual, about her turmoil, and about the muffled voice she had heard through the stone wall during the nights. A voice that let her see a subtle warmth within herself she had thought lost.

"We have to make a stop at the lower floors," she murmured. "We need to make sure Pope Adrian is freed properly..."

Kaelan listened quietly; at times he replied, at other times he only held her tighter. As they reached the central archives, he shared his own side of the journey, telling her of the Aetherblood Courser he had ridden—how the magnificent beast sprinted day in and day out, refusing to stop because it sensed the urgency in Kaelan's heart. He confessed to the suffocating dread that paralyzed him upon arriving at the ruined chapel, convinced he had arrived too late.

Maria listened with fluttering eyes as he told her about street kids in the slums, about how he had become like an older brother to them. Her heart ached upon learning of the tragedy he faced when arriving at the burned cellar.

She offered no words because she knew none could ever erase what had happened. But she held him close, hoping her warmth could at least help alleviate some of the pain.

"I thought I'd failed again," he said. “But… you allowed me to see that I didn’t.”

Maria smiled as he told her how Elisheba peered into their hearts, leading the Great Dragon through a route that ended with her saving all the lives within the chapel. He chuckled while recalling how the children wouldn’t give Old Bill's sheep a moment of rest. Maria laughed along with him.

Their laughter softly echoed through the endless descent. But one Maria didn’t mind facing with Kaelan by her side.

He told her about meeting Celeste and Thomas at the edge of the capital as they prepared for her rescue—how Celeste had rallied many others to help, and how Thomas had willingly surrendered his precious dragonscale just to bribe their way past the locked capital gates.

The stories brought Maria a deep sense of peace.

Her friends and loved ones from the chapel were safe, and she could hold Kaelan in her arms once more. The world was not a cold place where Maria had to bear every burden alone. She sank into Kaelan's broad back. It was warmer and far more comforting than any silk-draped bed inside the gilded cage ever was.

Before they ever reached the lower floors to free Pope Adrian, let alone the city square, she drifted off.

***

Maria woke three days later, lying in a comfortable, sunlit bed inside a cozy room on the outer edges of the Grand Cathedral. Unlike the gilded cage, she felt nothing but peace within.

A chorus of familiar voices erupted from the corner of the room.

"She's awake! Sister Maria is awake!"

Celeste’s golden ponytail waved wildly as she practically vaulted out of her chair, rushing to the bedside. Thomas followed behind with a wide grin, while Kaelan sat quietly on the windowsill, watching the scene unfold with a subtle smile.

"How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" She asked urgently. The young knight seemed unaware that her weight pressed down on Maria’s chest.

"I’m fine," Maria struggled out the words, "or I will be… as soon as you get off.”

“S-Sorry!”

“But I am a bit peckish,” Maria added.

"I'll have the kitchens bring up an entire feast!" Celeste declared before running off.

“H-Hey, don’t go tearing up the kitchen now—” Celeste shut the door behind, cutting off Thomas’s words.

Maria giggled.

Thomas sighed before his smile returned. “I’m glad to see you well, Maria.”

“You as well,” she said. “But… I’m sorry about your loss.” Maria glanced at his pack lying against the wall. For so long it had been so hefty, now it was almost sad how empty it seemed.

“Oh, right…” Thomas chuckled dryly. “It seems I’ll have to postpone my retirement.”

“Look on the bright side,” she said, “at least your shoulders will thank you for it.”

Thomas turned, hiding his face, but not his sniffles. “Yes… I suppose.”

Kaelan stared at her blankly. “You don’t hold back, huh?”

Maria just tilted her head.

Not long after, Pope Adrian Luzialo stepped into the room, leaning lightly on an ornate wooden staff. Though pale from his weeks of imprisonment, his eyes remained kind.

"Sister Maria." He smiled. “I’m glad you are well. The Orthodoxy owes you a debt that can never be repaid.” He bowed softly. “Through your faith and courage, the corruption within our walls has been cleansed, and the Holy Capital stands once more in the light."

Maria shook her head gently. "It wasn't just me, Your Holiness. It was all of us, and thanks to the gods."

While Pope Adrian spoke of the Crown's plans to bestow noble titles upon her, Maria's thoughts drifted past the tall windows. She looked out at the city, where faint smoke still curled into the morning sky.

"Your Holiness," Maria said. "Before anything else, I need to go outside."

“What of your meal?”

“It will have to wait until later.”

But her companions didn’t accept that. Once Celeste returned, Maria had no choice but to eat before heading out.

***

The Holy Capital in the crisis's wake was a city caught between grief and renewal.

Maria walked through busy avenues that fought against a tense stillness. Her companions accompanied her as she witnessed the immediate impact of her miracle. Knights in scoffed silver armor and soot-stained laborers worked side-by-side, lifting heavy timber beams to clear collapsed storefronts. Merchants handed out loaves of bread to displaced families, and children laughed as they chased stray dogs through the cleared alleyways.

There was a resilient beauty in how the people helped one another. The city had not only been saved by the grace of gods out of reach; it had also rebuilt itself through the hands of the living.

Yet, as they turned into a shaded courtyard near the outer residential district, the bustling noise of construction faded into a somber silence.

In a corner beneath a scorched tree, a man and a woman knelt on the ground. They were simple townspeople, dressed in faded wool clothes. Before them lay a makeshift memorial: a pair of wooden toys and a woven wreath of fresh wildflowers nestled underneath a small wooden marker bearing a name.

Maria’s companions stood back as she paused by the two.

She stared at the flowers, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced back to the moment of her spell—the golden wave of light that had flooded the city, the angelic forms descending through the clouds. Such a miracle by the gods allowed her to heal countless people, and even pulled back many who stepped through death’s door.

But it had not saved everyone.

The woman looked up. Her eyes flickered for a moment, looking over Maria’s tunic and veil. Perhaps she thought of her as the city-saving Saint that rumors now spoke of, or perhaps not. It didn’t matter.

“Our son…” the woman said, “perished at this spot… during the initial surge of monster attacks.”

Maria knew that his was one of many souls that had drifted too far. That her light did not reach in time.

She stood frozen in the quiet courtyard before finally drawing a slow breath. There was no magic that could help, no logic-defying spell. She offered no platitudes of divine will or promises of miracles that couldn’t happen, nor did Maria blame herself.

Instead, she softly knelt on the cold ground beside the grieving parents and grieved along with them. Her compassion was all she could offer, and Maria finally clearly understood that in that moment, it was all that was needed.