Sylia, the Dark & Light Saint

November, Two years ago

Sylia was worried about her daughter, Taryna.

The eight-year-old had been devastated by the events of the past few weeks. She had cried for days, inconsolable after the betrayal of her father and his family. Her own kin had tried to sell her to the National State Church for power and profit, no less. Her own blood!

Deep down, Taryna understood it hadn't truly been about greed. It had been revenge against Sylia, and a way to cast off a child they considered a burden. Sylia understood that too. Yet she never voiced it, always trying to soften the blow with excuses, anything to dull the pain. Her daughter's pain.

However, the past weeks had been eye-opening for Taryna. Nothing in her life until now had shown her so clearly where she stood in that family. She had long sensed the lack of love from her father's side, the way they had wished her gone. Her father had once shown her a flicker of affection but even that faded as soon as he grew close to Masha who had been gifted by the Gods with the ability to inhabit an adult form for brief periods.

Then came the children of Masha and Grenek. Spurred by Divine Blessings and time spent in a Time-Zone, they had grown at an unnatural pace. And with their arrival, Taryna's place in the household had shrunk further.

No longer merely unwanted, she became despised. Even by her own father. Indeed, Grenek, who had become unable to bear the resemblance she bore to Sylia, had turned his hatred toward her instead of the Saint he had once cherished. Her father had fallen deeply for Masha and all her manipulations.

Constantly targeted by Masha, Tasha, and her half-siblings, Taryna had suddenly become the problem child. She was now branded the capricious one and the bully while Masha's daughters were endlessly praised.

Fortunately, Taryna's stays in the Slums had always been brief, which had spared her from enduring the full extent of the bullying she would have faced had she been made to live with her father permanently. But, each visit had grown shorter as the abuse worsened.

Helpless, she had watched her father fall into corruption and Malevolence. The same fate had overtaken her half-sister Georgie's father, after his own entanglement with Masha. The pattern was unmistakable now.

Sylia had likely underestimated the rot Masha carried with her. Or perhaps, after being betrayed by the very men she had once shielded, she had simply stopped caring. That second explanation appeared to be the most credible.

***

Sylia found her daughter exactly where she had expected. Taryna was curled up in a dark corner of the attic of their modest suburban home, crying again. Her daughter's midnight-blue hair hung in limp waves, obscuring her face, while her quiet sobs echoed in the confined space like small, pitiful sounds that barely stirred Sylia's compassion.

(A crying Taryna)

Saint Sylia couldn't recall the last time she herself had cried. Lately, unfamiliar memories had begun to rise unbidden. Those were memory fragments she didn't yet understand. In one of them, a man she had called "father" had taught her how to cry. Even then, she had been incapable of real tears. Her brother, whose name she could no longer remember, had been far better at it. She remembered the smug curve of his lips as he was rewarded for crying on cue.

After many failed attempts and denied gifts, she had finally cried for real. Tears of frustration, most probably. And in the end, she had been the one to smirk as her brother's reward was halved since her own crying was considered more convincing. Her father had patted her head proudly, commending her for what he believed was well-executed false weeping.

Sylia shook off the memory with a shrug. It was strange how these remnants surfaced, so vivid and pointless. They offered her no guidance now.

She had no idea how to comfort a daughter born of a lowly Mortal and had no understanding of how to speak the language of grief and tenderness. Sylia functioned on a different level entirely, her emotions shaped by something other, something ancient and Divine.

Still, she could comprehend her daughter's pain and frustration. Taryna had clung to hope in her Mortal father's redemption long after Sylia had given up on him altogether.

Stopping just in front of the girl, Sylia looked down at her with lips pursed in faint irritation.

"So," she said, voice flat but not unkind, "are you feeling any better? It's been days now. Surely you've moved on. At this rate, we'll drown in tears."

Taryna's head snapped up. Her red-rimmed eyes narrowed with fury as she glared at her mother. "Could you at least pretend to console me, just once, like a normal mother would?"

Sylia smiled, completely unfazed. "Ah, so you are feeling better. That flare of temper is encouraging. But really, what's this about being a 'normal daughter'? You nearly drowned the entire city. I had to divert the water surge where it was actually needed."

Taryna blinked in confusion, her expression raw and uncertain.

Sylia laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Be grateful I'm highly skilled at commanding Natural Elements. The Goddess you're a Division of is Seshenkahyllia, after all. She is known as a Doom's Lightning and Water Storms Deity. Let's just say… if you keep crying like this, a lot more people are going to die."

Sylia gestured toward the attic's door. "Now, come. I've invited Dio. We'll have a pleasant meal and then chocolate crêpes afterward. You both like those."

Taryna frowned, her expression wary. "Mother… please explain."

Sylia sighed, clearly exasperated, and lowered herself onto the wooden floor. "Fine. We'll do it here. Sit down."

Taryna obeyed, settling across from her mother, already recognizing the look on Sylia's face. One she had come to associate with long, uncomfortable lectures.

"Where should I begin?" Sylia mused aloud. "As you know, I'm no Saint. I'm more than a Goddess. Beings like me are scarce. My current embodiment is merely a sliver of my true self. My Mana and Magic accumulate rapidly, often beyond safe thresholds. I have to discharge the excess. One method is through the act of creation by bringing forth new life. But there's one major complication. Since my Mana and Magic originate from the pure Divine, the children I bring into existence cannot be simple Mortals. Their essence is too potent. To prevent them from overwhelming this world, they must be divided at birth and become fragments of what they would otherwise be. You are no exception.

You may consider that your father's role in your conception was negligible. So negligible, in fact, that you should even forget he was ever part of it.

We all have only one true Father—the Great Father of us all. He is known in this world as the Dark Lord, though that name hardly begins to describe him. He was one of the few unimaginably powerful Beings who had shaped this World and the World layered above it."

Sylia paused, letting her words settle before continuing. "That alone should remind you how small we all are in comparison.

There are countless levels of Worlds above this one. So many that trying to understand the architecture of the Worlds could drive even Gods mad. I don't even bother attempting to map it out, myself.

I was sent down, first from the Outer World, then to the Overworld, and finally to this desolate Sub-World in order to begin cleansing it. I need you children to help me with that solemn task."

Taryna stared at her mother in stunned silence.

"You wonder if your father had any chance of surviving?" Sylia continued. "The odds were low. Very low. In a world this corrupted, perhaps thirty to forty percent of Souls are salvageable and not always as wholes, but as fragments. Your father's odds were even slimmer. But still, there was a chance that a sliver of him could be saved. He chose the wrong path, like most of his cursed bloodline… Grenar's bloodline."

Taryna's breath caught, and she nearly choked on the words. "Wha… what?"

Sylia offered a bitter smile. "What I am about to tell you may sound shocking, especially to someone your age. Grenar and a few others from his line betrayed their own kin out of greed. They were cursed for it. Some were slain and later returned, reincarnated into new lives. Grenek was just a boy when it happened, one born into that bloodline of traitors.

His mother, along with two of his siblings, were killed by those her husband had betrayed. Other relatives, young and old, were devoured by Dark Hounds my Source summoned along several Dark Knights who cleaned up the rest of the traitors. Grenek himself wasn't eaten, but his throat was torn open. He was about your official age when it all happened."

Taryna whispered, horrified, "What…?"

Sylia exhaled. "I only learned of it recently. Much of what my Source and I did decades ago has been erased from my memory. Back then, we were trying to prevent mass killings and stop the spread of corruption. Those who were devoured had already succumbed to Malevolence and corruption. They wouldn't have lasted long anyway.

Fragments of their untainted Soul Cores were salvaged. Grenek was fortunate enough to be spared since his Soul was in better shape than most. His Soul was used as the foundation of a new one, forged from the shards of multiple Sigmundi Souls. Some good, some bad. It was the only way he could ever survive in a corrupted environment… and the only way those Soul shards could be given a second chance."

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Taryna shook her head slowly, stammering, "N… no…"

Sylia's voice softened, but only slightly. "Grenek's hatred is not misplaced. Masha's Goddesses must have told him some of what happened, though certainly not all. Even they can't recall everything. My Source made sure of that."

Taryna sat trembling, arms wrapped tightly around herself as her mother studied her in silence. Long minutes passed, broken only by the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the slightly opened attic window.

Then, cutting through the fog of her thoughts, came her mother's smooth, unwavering voice.

"Taryna."

She looked up, startled, and saw her mother's hand extended toward her.

"Taryna, my child," Sylia said, her voice calm but laced with authority, "it is time you embraced your destiny. It is time to find your rightful path. You must choose carefully, though. I shall not tolerate any interference with Grenek's fate. In two years, he will be reconstructed as he had been once before. By then, most of who he is now will be gone. It may take hundreds of Soul shards just to produce something resembling a decent person. My Source considers this a useful experiment. Grenek betrayed us, again and again. There shall be no mercy. So long as even a shard of him remains, we shall use it to the fullest extent of our power to punish him over and over again."

Taryna's voice came in a whisper. "What will happen to me now?"

Sylia smiled. "That depends on you. You could remain here, living with your father for the next two years. Endure his abuse, and in doing so, amplify his punishment. Or… you could start over."

Taryna blinked. "Start over? You mean… I'll be killed and sent somewhere else?"

Sylia laughed. "As if it were even possible. You're Half-Immortal, dear. Souls like yours aren't so easily sent away. No, I'm offering you a new identity. You would become Seshenka, Goddess Seshenkahyllia's true Avatar. A daughter without a father. A child born of the Dark Lord's Flock. You would be the founding Queen of Seshnahara, an Enclaved Island Kingdom under the influence of both the Dark and Lightling Churches."

Taryna's jaw dropped. She had never imagined hearing something like that from her mother.

Sylia rose to her feet, still smiling. "First, I'll restore your adolescent form. There's no reason to conceal your true age anymore. Not when you're nearly twice your 'official' age. We kept you small to make your father less hateful, but that clearly didn't work. There's no use in pretending anymore. We have work to do. We must start fighting the Flock of the Gods who have taken to protecting Masha and her wretched family.

You think I underestimated Masha's corruption? I didn't. But a few of her Goddesses did, and I made a Pact with them. One I must honor. Some of them have fallen so far they can't even recognize pure evil or corruption anymore. While the Gods may function on a different moral scale, we are still meant to distinguish good from evil. Corruption from purity. That is what we stand for. Otherwise, we are not worthy of being called Gods."

Taryna shivered. She had never heard her mother speak of herself as a Goddess—not directly. Something about her now felt different. Some immense power loomed behind her words. A powerful and ancient force that scared her. Perhaps it was the Source Saint Sylia had so often mentioned in the past.

Sylia's gaze was steady. "So, what do you say? Help me show Mortals another path."

Taryna lowered her eyes. "What about my father? Won't he try to intervene?"

Sylia chuckled. "Oh? He won't even remember, dear. My Source has remade him once before. She can make him forget whatever we choose. In fact, I have another offer. I can create a decoy—another Taryna—using your blood and a shard of your Soul. A Mortal version. One who could truly be Grenek's daughter. He won't know the difference since his hatred is blindly directed at me and merely reflected onto you, anyway."

Taryna stared at her mother with renewed sadness. "Why? Why did you even get involved with him?"

Sylia's smile softened and her eyes grew distant as she recalled the past. "He was sweet decades ago. He was actually remade from multiple Soul fragments. Some were good, but started fading all too quickly. It was their last chance at even a partial life. Most those Soul shards are gone now. However, one had prevailed. It was separated years ago and regrown. You might consider him your true father."

"What…?" Taryna asked, stunned.

"His name is Jurenveyl. He lives in the Surmindel Enclave. You've crossed paths a few times, though you haven't spoken much. I wish I could have told you sooner. Grenek was guided by that Soul shard for years. When he was separated from it, he lost his moral compass…just as expected. The core of Grenek, the real Grenek… was never good. Never had been."

Taryna's heart pounded. A cold fear crept up her spine as she looked at her mother, suddenly afraid.

Sylia's expression brightened with amusement. "I've just had the most perfect idea. What if we created a Mage daughter using your blood and Yalanvar's?"

Taryna froze. Had her mother just lost her mind? Yalanvar was her current boyfriend.

"That would be the ultimate revenge against Magali," Sylia continued, smiling wider, "the one who helped orchestrate your kidnapping and sale."

Taryna turned her face away, uncertain. She hadn't told her mother what had happened that day—how Magali had deceived her and led her to a trap. How Taryna had nearly been taken if not for her strong powers. But of course, Sylia already knew. She had just admitted as much. She was, after all, more than a Goddess, and she had been manipulating minds and events for reasons tied to her greater mission. Gaining knowledge would be trivial compared to the immense tasks she had been trained for.

Sylia laughed aloud now, eyes gleaming. "Yes. That would be perfect. I'll begin at once. She would open a restaurant right next to Megan's and Greetsia's shops."

Taryna blinked. "Who's Greetsia?"

Sylia laughed again. "Ah, yes. I forgot to mention her. Gnome Sylia created her with my assistance from the blood of Tasha's latest victim. Magali's mother, if you wish to know, consumed half of the girl's Soul, and we had to reconstruct her using fresh Soul Matter and condensed Soul shards from Tasha's previous victims. Greetsia is bound to a rather dangerous Spiritus. We'll be placing her in the small anti-corruption District we had several Darkness and Lightling Spirits create last night in the Outskirts of the Slums. It may gain popularity with Mathias and his people. His delightful Bunny Divisions might even stop by to have fun with the Spirits and Spiritus living there."

Taryna exhaled sharply, clearly resigned. She knew all too well Master Mathias Herves, her mother's so-called Divine ally who paraded around, pretending to be some Saint and Avatar. As if anyone would believe that nonsense.

Then again… people were that gullible, weren't they? Taryna paused, bitterness rising. Yes, they absolutely were. The public believed every lie Sylia and Mathias fed them without question. And ironically, when those two did tell the truth, almost no one believed a word of it.

She couldn't entirely blame them. Her mother and Mathias were doing things that, by mortal standards, were utterly insane—impossible, even. However, when viewed from the perspective of beings far above mortal comprehension, like Deities, it all made perfect sense.

Sylia and Mathias weren't just Gods. They were Enforcers of the Lords, sent to root out corrupted Gods and twisted Spirits. Still, they didn't seem in any rush. They acted as though there were another secret mission they weren't ready to reveal yet.

Sylia turned toward her daughter, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "How about a daughter with Dyunkan? A Potion and Arcanist Mage, perhaps? Someone who could assist both Seyka and Rahana. Maybe even become Rozen's support."

Taryna's eyes widened. "What? Have you lost your mind, mother? You want me to have children with one of your current boyfriends and my first cousin?!"

Sylia pouted slightly, lips pursed in mock indignation. "Come now. I would still be the Maker of those children. I'm simply using your blood. Anyway, Dyunkan isn't your first cousin in the strict sense. He's only a distant relative of yours. Should I remind you that Dio was adopted by Grenar due to… complicated family matters."

Taryna folded her arms. "And your boyfriend Yalanvar? Didn't you already have children with him?"

Sylia shrugged. "I was never truly interested in him. So, it doesn't really matter. I even used a minor Division to be with him. He could never tell the difference…unlike his father."

Taryna bit her lip. She had nearly forgotten that the Godly Saint had once been involved with Yalanvar's father. She exhaled slowly. Her mother truly was something else. Someone utterly beyond the scope of mortal comprehension.

Her eyes began to gleam faintly with Mana, and her glare sharpened into an unmistakable annoyance.

"And why would I have a child with Dyunkan?" she asked coldly. "What would that do for me? At least a child with Yalanvar would give me revenge."

Sylia laughed. "You'd be doing a good deed, obviously. Dio has been concerned about his son. Dyunkan's youngest child with his wife has very little Mana. The boy doesn't even qualify as Noble Gentry, certainly not as Noble potential. Dyunkan's older children had fared better, but only slightly. I suspect corruption is the cause. A child of Divine bloodline could help reinforce and purify Dyunkan's lineage."

Taryna looked genuinely surprised. She had always liked Dyunkan. He had always been kind to her. She hadn't realized his child was weak in Mana. The boy had seemed perfectly normal. Could her mother be misleading her?

Davinka, Dyunkan's wife, was from a Declassed Noble Gentry family and her children had grown pretty powerful so far. She and Dyunkan had always seemed well-matched. Mana compatible.

Taryna turned a sharp glare toward her mother, silently conveying her disbelief.

Sylia merely chuckled and shrugged. "Fine. I meant in terms of Dark and Darkling Mana. Most of Davinka's children take after her. Their Mana are Lightling and Light aligned. Dyunkan is more attuned to the Darkling Element. That imbalance isn't good for him."

Taryna's mouth fell open in surprise. Her mother was right. Their magical race needed the right feedback from the land, the air and their surroundings. If the environment became too saturated with Light or Lightling energy, it would slowly erode those with a Dark and Darkling Element's alignment.

Sylia's smile returned as she looked around the attic.

"By the way," she said casually, "I've decided to gift this house to Dyunkan on behalf of his father."

"What?" Taryna shot up. "This is my house!"

Sylia shrugged. "No, this is the house I assigned to your father after he displeased me. I'll transfer everything that's yours to the new home we added last night up on the hill the Spirits created. You'll move there. This place is far too small for you now, especially as a teenager. It was meant more as a punishment for your father, after I dissolved his previous residence because of the corruption he brought into it."

She turned toward the door, then paused. With a sudden seriousness, she faced her daughter, then extended a hand as she fixed her with a steely gaze.

"So," she said, "what do you think? You would be doing a good deed by helping Dio and his family. You would achieve revenge on your cousin Magali, who betrayed you so callously. We would leave a more suitable version of yourself behind with your father, so he isn't entirely alone. And let's not forget that you be would be building a new Kingdom, one that will show the world the power of the Dark and Darkling Flock. All the while striking back at the false Church that arranged your sale in order to drain and enslave you."

Sylia smiled, her eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Why don't we go and get justice? Finish destroying the Blue King's Region and butcher the Black King while we're at it? I think it's time we start wiping out the Court's Elemental Kings. Those pawns have outlived their usefulness in this decaying Kingdom. We have more than enough Substitute Kings as it is. Your other self has already descended. She's on her way to handle the Blue King's Region personally along with that National State Church's branch and their so-called Patron Gods and Flocks."

Taryna gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite her emotional turmoil. What kind of choice was this?

It wasn't one at all. Her mother had already decided for her or perhaps she had simply stopped caring about Taryna's opinion, ever since her father had proven himself too corrupted and too vile to save.

Saint Sylia had crafted the offer so perfectly that refusing it was impossible. It resolved all Taryna's dilemma at once. Her mother's plans washed away her guilt, avenged her betrayal, and gave her a future that meant a great deal to her.

Suddenly resigned and certain, Taryna extended her hand and placed it firmly into her mother's.

"Yes, Mother," she said as she met her mother's stare. "Let's do that."

(Taryna as an adult)