Lorehana: The Papal Prophecy

Message from God

Silent whimpers echoed the musky alleyway. The gentle snow gusted a poor woman carrying her two sobbing infants. Each snow-laid track left the woman deeper into the inevitable fate of the new year. A terrible mother, she grieved. A horrible mother.
The woman stood at the gateway of Hell—a towering dumpster. The eyes of God looked down upon her and her twins—the guilt enrapturing the depressed mother. She clutched the both of them one last time and cried along with them. The bleating harmonizing with the gusts of cold.
"I'm sorry, my child." the woman weeped. "I'm sorry I couldn't be a better mother." Grabbing one baby by the cloth wrap around them, the woman tossed one into the depths. The howling winds masked the supposed wails of the baby. She could not bare to hear them anyway. The woman looked to her remaining child. They glowed a furious red and the woman felt that strong hatred and fear within them. She caressed the babies face, kissed their forehead softly, and bawled, "I'm sorry too."
She raised the baby above her head, shut her eyes and grit her teeth, and was ready. The snow circled around her; the wind bursting her eardrums. She wished she could ignore it all—she wish she could end it all. She screeched discordantly to the wind and soon she was ready to—
"STOP!" Bellowed a powerful voice.
The instruments of gale dropped and the silence of the world panned through the woman's ears louder than that breeze. Still holding her child, she looked up to the voice.
"W-Who's there?" the woman called into the emptiness. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes passed without a response. The woman still grasped onto her last child who continued to bawl.
"Ssh, Irida..." She cooed to her baby. Five minutes without noise. The silence began to get a bit... Awkward.
However, that all came to an end when that same voice boomed, "It is I, God!"
The woman's eyes widen. She shot her head to the skies.
"K-Kaela?!" she stuttered. "Oh please, forgive me, your Holiness! I did not mean to kill Kristina! I'm—"
"I have a request!" Kaela interrupted. The wind froze over the woman.
"A request?"
"Do not throw away that baby!" the God commanded. "She is very important!"
"H-How?"
"Because the plot demands it!"
"Excuse me?"
"Because I demand it!"
The woman looked to her last progeny, Irida. Her squinty face blotches with red from all the tears and frost. She was so delicate and vulnerable. Kaela was right—she could not throw her away too. Someone like her did not deserve to have their life taken away so easily. Such greatness and potential would go to waste. The woman closed her eyes and looked up to the Heavens.
"I have no money to raise her," the woman's eyes welt with tears. "There is nothing I can—"
"No problem! I'm literally God! I can create infinite money!" Kaela jeered. A small burlap sack dropped from the clouds and jingled straight in front of the woman. She crouched down and untied the string keeping the sack bounded. With each opening glimmered gold. The bag overflowed with coins—treasures fit for royalty who were closest to paradise. The woman's tears did not drip from sadness anymore but rather the complete opposite.
She grinned to the Heavens, "Thank you so much!" The woman expected an abrupt reply from Kaela. However, many minutes passed—fifteen in fact—and still no response. She noticed the wind echoing again, running chills down her body. The woman cradled Irida to her chest, snatched the burlap sack, and left that musky alleyway behind. The feelings of anguish and heartbreak fled along with the wintery winds.