The Flames Of The Red Saintess

Fractures in Faith

The vineyard buzzed with life, rows of lush grapevines stretching for miles under the powder blue of the morning sky. The sweet, earthy scent of ripe grapes and freshly turned soil filled the air, mingling with the cheerful chirping of birds. Their songs combined with the soft murmurs of the gathered crowd—villagers, knights, and the estate's priest, all present to witness the first blessing of Katsuki's pilgrimage.

Katsuki stood in front, ignoring the eyes of everyone as he listened to the priest drone on in a ceremonial sermon. The words washed over him, a backdrop to his swirling thoughts about the previous night.

Admitting his feelings to Izuku had been both embarrassing and liberating. Even without saying the words outright, Izuku had understood and reciprocated in his own way. That understanding felt like a release for Katsuki, his palm still tingling from the brush of Izuku's lips on his skin.

He knew it couldn't lead anywhere; their paths would forever be parallel, never crossing, but knowing that Izuku wanted him in return was enough... for now. Those feelings would keep him warm when everything else fell apart around him.

"The Saintess stands before us, a vessel of the goddess's will," the priest intoned, his voice rising with practiced fervor. "Through him, the land shall be blessed, the harvest plentiful, and the people prosperous."

Katsuki resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he moved forward. The soil beneath him was still damp and cool against his bare feet as he moved with practiced elegance. It felt more like strings attached to his limbs moving him through every step.

As his robes swirled around him, the chimes and beats that accompanied his blessing were faint in his ears. He could feel the warm touch of the sunlight on his skin, the rustling of the vines, and the murmurs of the villagers who sang the familiar hymns of the temple.

It was all empty to Katsuki. He felt nothing. There were no fancy swirls of magic, no growing power within him. He doubted if the ritual that had been beaten into him all these years even did anything at all for the land or the people that resided here.

He didn't believe it did. Never in all his years as the Saintess had he ever shown anything that would set him apart from any other normal person here. He couldn't heal the sick like the healers in the temple. He couldn't create fire from his hands or fly like the mages in the north.

He was nothing but a puppet being pulled by its strings to perform for the masses so that they'd empty their pockets for those that pulled him about on stage.

Katsuki's gaze swept over the foolish crowd. The villagers watched with reverence while the priest nodded in approval. But his eyes were drawn only to Izuku.

His friend stood tense, his attention locked away from Katsuki's dance and towards two knights who smirked and whispered among themselves.

Katsuki couldn't hear their words, but he knew Izuku well enough to recognize when he was growing upset. Whatever the knights were saying must be about him.

A mix of curiosity and concern churned in Katsuki's chest. He knew the knights' comments were likely snide; he wasn't so naive that he wasn't aware of their views of him. But if Izuku said anything it would only escalate things.

The dance came to a graceful end and the priest finished his sermon with a flourish. "Thanks to the temple for providing this sacred blessing," he proclaimed. "May the Saintess's divine grace bring abundance and prosperity to our lands."

Katsuki moved towards Izuku as the sermon ended, but his handmaids were there before he could take the first step.

"Saintess, we must prepare you for the departure," one of the handmaids said, her voice firm but respectful.