Pollyanna sat on her knees in prayer before a statue of Renthas in her new home; the convent of one of Holy Renthas' daughters, Reena.
Reena was a wise and caring figure in Scripture. She offered intelligence to human beings behind Renthas' back, and Renthas made her live out the rest of her days on a solitary island within the heavens because of it.
Reena was always a somewhat controversial figure in human Scripture due to her actions.
Because of her, humans traded innocence and comfort for intelligence and cunning, and they had never been an entirely happy species since.
Pollyanna didn't know whether happiness and innocence were worth trading for cunning and intelligence, but she found thinking about it a useful distraction in keeping her mind off recent devastations.
It had been a month since her hometown had been burned down, and a week since a healer had told her that she had lost her child.
The healer had placed a hand and ear on her belly in silence after Pollyanna told her that her undergarments had been spotted with blood.
She painfully closed her eyes in empathy for Pollyanna. "I'm sorry. I feel no kicks, nor can my magic feel any heartbeat."
Pollyanna's eyes snapped shut in pain. Tears were squeezed out from the corners of them. She didn't have any strength for words.
She held her face in her palms and felt completely drained.
Now, I am truly a dead-woman-walking. She thought to herself.
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With nowhere to go and no one left to live for, Pollyanna committed herself to a life of servitude and prayer within the convent.
She only heard bits and pieces of what was happening in the outside world, including what had happened the night when she had lost everything.
"The fairies attacking the Maribel border from the front were a feint. It was the west end of the border that we needed to watch." A priestess told Pollyanna. "The Astral Elves intervened because that's what they do. If they see an egregious wrong about to happen, they try to prevent it from happening. They promised to lend us their strength for the upcoming battles against the fairies."
Pollyanna listened, but said nothing in response.
She didn't care about the outside world. She didn't care about anything. She just felt tired and wanted to sleep.
Pollyanna had time to reflect upon her life while she made her home in the convent and lived a life so dull that she had nothing to fear.
Undeniably, when she reflected on her past, it would add another crack to her heart which was one hairline away from shattering.
I wish it would, if it meant that I didn't have to feel this pain.
The other women at the convent pitied her.
She heard them gossiping about her from time-to-time.
"That new girl—I hear she was married to a man who beat and raped her. She ended up losing the child..." Was the sum of what many said.
They had no condolences for her, however. In fact, they actively avoided her.
The judgmental voices of the women stalked her in echoes as she walked through the hallways of the convent and went about her daily routines.
She must be cursed!
Because she had no friends and family left, she decided the eerie, empty halls which she often walked down late at night were her friends.
Sometimes, she murmured pathetically as she walked down the halls, "I love you."
Just so she could hear her words echo.
As time went on, the priestesses she lived among tried to be kind to her.
They would make harmless, idle conversation with her and try to make her laugh, but Pollyanna found that she had a hard time telling when they were joking and when they were making fun of her.
Paranoia, distrust, and unhappiness held her captive.
Screams haunted her when she tried to sleep; red constantly invaded her vision when anyone brought up her old town. No matter how much she ate, her stomach always felt empty.
It's because I no longer have a pulse.
Eventually, news arrived that the fairies had succeeded in taking over Maribel. Pollyanna didn't care.
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Thirty-four years eventually passed her by.
Her life had been painted gray and passionless. It was ruled by routines and schedules, and Pollyanna was glad of it. If she were given too much choice in her life, it led to too many memories of glorious old dreams that were too painful to remember.
Sometimes, she could hardly believe she ever had the dream of becoming a knight. It felt like a distant, warm and golden desire—a window into a future that had long passed her by.
And so she tended to the convent garden, she taught young girls Scripture, she prayed three times a day, she cleaned and cooked, and she would occasionally see the Holy Mothers off when they went to feed the homeless and do other charity work.
She could be never at peace with herself, but she felt like she could at least live with herself.
She sometimes wished she could join the Holy Mothers in their charity work, but she could never stray very far from the convent. She was too afraid to go very far.
Life continued in this comfortable and gray blur until one day...
Deep into the night, while a whirlwind of memories were keeping her up, the smell of smoke trickled into Pollyanna's nostrils.
She rolled over, thinking the smell was in her imagination.
She still smelled it when she opened her eyes and looked at the door. Perhaps I should go for a walk.
The door was violently thrown open. One of the Holy Mothers said in a panicked voice, "Pollyanna! The king has set our convent ablaze! We must go!"
The Holy Mother wasted not a second longer; she disappeared outside the door.
Pollyanna climbed to her feet—too hurried to notice how heavy her muscles and eyelids felt from lack of sleep.
There was no time to throw any clothes on over her nightgown; she could hear crackling fire spreading rapidly nearby. She opened her door and gasped when she saw black fire spreading down the hall to her left. She dashed down a short flight of wooden stairs in front of her and came to a sharp halt when a barrier of black flames blocked her path at the bottom.
Black fire was consuming everything on the bottom floor.
Screams filled her ears along with the sound of debris crashing down from the ceiling.
Intense smoke filled her lungs as she looked for a clear path to escape the flames.
She looked to her right; one of the Holy Mothers was on fire in her private study.
Pollyanna gulped.
I have a chance to be brave. A chance to be a hero like I always wanted...
Determinedly, she leapt through the fire in front of her and patted the flames that clung to her out.
After that, her legs moved her toward the shrieking Holy Mother. She weaved in-between walls of black fire toward her.
Pollyanna's legs were shaking. Her throat felt like it was on fire. She glistened with sweat.
Almost there... She thought to herself as she closed the gap between herself and the entrance to the study.
A wall of fire roared into existence—blocking her path.
No! Pollyanna thought to herself as she fought for breath. No...
Her heart dropped. She stared forward listlessly.
She felt lightheaded.
She collapsed.