Severance and Unity

A foot stepped forward, touching a cold surface; a bright icy light travelling through every sense. He knew the closer he got to the center of the ritual, the lesser the punishment of the miracle would be, once it pervaded throughout his being.

The only downside that was to be, was the immense pain to come.

With each step, he approached the coldest and brightest area in the room. If his training had not included resistance to hot and cold temperatures, he would have been suffering right now due to an absence of warmth.

Yet, he was a priest and exorcist. At least for a little while longer; this thought brought up the question of whether his memories of the training would also be taken. He could only pray it null, at this point. Despite his hopes of no harm in the ritual, the pain was inevitable.

A slight ache grew within him, intensifying gradually into a cold yet searing burn of sensation. It spread throughout his body, teeth clenched and enduring the agony. Breath coming in short and shallow timings.

The ritual continued, with its bright light surrounding him, growing in intensity. A clouded mind made him feel as if he was losing himself in the pain. But he had to endure it, that it was a necessary sacrifice for the proceedings. Finally, the pain subsided, leaving him gasping for air and weak on his feet.

But the ritual was not yet complete.

The miracle had yet to run its course, thorough in judging and analyzing him. Blinding brilliance became the space of Godrick. Causing it to materialize into shards of ice holding him in place.

The overwhelming coldness took hold of every fiber of his being. His training as a priest and exorcist becoming meaningless against the soul-piercing miracle. A struggle to resist present, against the bone-chilling temperature; tapping his very soul.

As the trance-like state took hold of him, his skin turned a sickly pallor of white, lips sinking to a bluish hue. His eyes glazed over with a glossy sheen. Frozen in an image of sorrowful regret.

When he thought he could no longer bear the cold, a surge of warmth emerged from behind.

He turned his head less than an inch. A blinding gold-yellow light pulsed with heat, shining light unto all. It took on the form of an aspect of Hadrian, a divine being that breathed life back into Godrick, with as gentle a touch as if a mother kissing her babe for assurance.

The warmth of the aspect spread through Godrick's being. Reinvigorating his life force, while chasing away the bitter embrace of cold. Slowly, his skin regained its normal hue, and his eyes cleared, the trance fading to the immaterial. Breathing deeply, the warmth spread through his body, filling him with renewed strength.

The Pilgrim now stood before the stunning creature, breathless. An avatar of his god, about to complete its duty, it would take everything away from him, and he would not fight back.

Godrick felt the influence of divinity, almost, completely shutting down his will. His eyes turning a glossy fogged lens.

"You are the Pilgrim who seeks to repent on his journey. I see nor smell either desire or redemption from you." The avatar spoke, moving its swords in a non-committed chop. It was coming ever closer toward Godrick's neck.

He struggled to break a scream and put a halt to its advance, "No! Stop!", and it stopped. Inches from his neck.

The ritual would take everything away if he did not resist, so there remained no hesitation in himself.

"You dare!" Its voice screamed with a wounded sounding tone, but he knew this coldness was not all that his god held to offer.

It was part of the ritual, and if he wanted anything out of it, he was to resist its overbearing nature.

"You would resist me. Has your faith truly crumbled, for you to resist, Me!?" The avatar asked, a roar coming from it's hallowed voice.

"Yes, It has, and yes I do. I have given you faith, for twelve of my living years, service inacted to the highest of orders. A more than fair deal considering the average age of mortals, no?" Godrick half stated and asked with as much will and leverage as he could muster.

"A deal?" The avatar asked unimpressed. "I am no merchant."

"And if memory is served well, your first deal was not adhered to by thee Oathbreaker." It bounded back facts already known. Hoping to drive more guilt into his resolve by misdirecting his patterns.

"But you are of an Aspect, alike to the Patron of light and inquisition. And by the honor-bound clemency of unwilling use of magic. I reject not saving a faithful's life, despite the knowing of how to. I should not lose everything for performing my duties." Godrick was a man who knew law, economy, and history. He was a Man meant for larger things in life, he thought. Then cursed the fruit's corrupting yet insightful inspirations.

"Your inquisition utilized me and I did my duty righteously for twelve of my living years. If honor would mean something, it would be to its goddess, should it not be, Metra?" He invoked the name of honor, mentioning Metra. The honor-bounded goddess of justice who served Hadrian.

The avatar turned a glare at him. "You know of my other values, most certainly not a heretic. Then why do you stray from my path?" Curiosity turned in her eyes as she studied the man's material self.

"I need to know the truth, my lady. I would cease existence, to have this knowledge. I must grasp its mysteries. When I help people in my search, then that will also be of your name. To do justice with the sharing of knowledge. Demystifying the secrets of magic, mana as its basis. And f…" a pause came as conviction gathered into his next words.

"And for this, I swear, I do so swear; on my quest for knowledge. Under, mine and your honor, and your celestial augustness of the twin moon Enma." The forces of the cosmos were forming as he spoke En'Oin. He had decoded the language of "The First Strange People" who preceded the gods. Speaking in a language to beings, approximate to the divine.

His every word filled the miracle space around them. Both were enveloped in the magical workings of the cosmic and primeval forces.

For the words, he did not know, from a lack of grasp on the language. He would create them as best he could. His knowledge of the ancient magical languages was, if not perfect or excellent. Dominant with all respects.

He knew four magical languages decoded through his journeys:

Saloheem, Primect, En'Oin, and En'Oamantes.

In this order was how he would say, he knew them best. His last two were recent acquisitions, at most capable of forming small-lettered sentences. But they were the most potent weapon when dealing with beings on another level of existence.

So long as it was a prime language. With the level of cunning and intelligence he was developing --soon he could have access to this power.

He stopped himself, mentally noticing an influence. This was the fruit's intrusions again, no need to let it get to his head. So he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. And once he did, reality crashed upon him once more; his uttering finalized.

"For how could something of nature be evil? Knowledge is all around us. Do you agree?" He pointed at the wonder of the miracle that was all around them. The perfect figure from the Avatar of the Goddess Metra configuring before him.

Passions flared from him, for only a true Will would allow him to survive. Only real conviction could move the being standing upon the peak of perfection. And witnessing her beauty, he stated his new oath, an oath for knowledge and justice. Her beauty, for she was beautiful, was occluded by the radiant shine that exuded from the Aspects of Hadrian.

"An awakened one, in search of a Path. Hounded by the knowledge of the Alien. Maddened by the land's 'Forbidden Fruits', aching for Truth, determined by their Will." A litany of statements came from her, prophetic in their meaning.

"You would trade our noble and divine essence for the corrupting influences of the Patheem. To wield their alien magics upon this land not meant for their words or tongues?" Coldness escaping her breath she lifted her blades once more.

"No," he said disarmingly. Lowering the raised blades. "I seek all. For the Patheem showed us a way. Harnessing the power of the world itself." He proclaimed, his next words damning to the Goddess.

"Even before the Patheem, it is said that the first men and women; in the before times. When they were more of Ape than People. They were the first wielders of the Strange. Shapers of their race's current status, the first masters of humanity, the first builders of empires, the first of many, and more, etc., … "

With direct translations from the tablet of Shaltur. He spoke the only words left by the exiled celestials of the Hells. Who had become Devilish Kings through the juxtaposition of the Divine's virtues with the Hellish principles of the Hells.

The pilgrim defended his stance on the purveyance of magic and mana.

"Hehe, it is funny." Her figure dimmed still blinding but at the very least, Godrick could now see her facial features.

A nose with a slight upward curve, not to the point of being inhuman or unattractive. But rather adding a unique touch that caught one's attention upon a closer look. Her eyes were like bluish crystals of flames that sparked the air around them.

The rest of the features on her face were what anyone else would have expected of a goddess. A beautiful symmetrical face that bordered on inhuman beauty to the point of the alien. Despite the otherworldly beauty, her face still contained traces of a human-like charm. Accentuated by the grace of her nose which allowed mortal men to look upon her.

For hers, is an overwhelming and otherworldly beauty. One that no mortal mind could comprehend. And as such none could look upon her unless she retook her once mortal face.

"It has been quite some time since a mortal has humbled a being such as me, I thank thee. My Godrick from the name of Anwen, The Pilgrim as you shall be known, and a Wanderer it seems you will be." She graced a smile upon him, as if nothing else could be said or less she breach her conduct to the level of mortals.

"Very well my childer. I agree with your declaration." A reluctant defeat came of her, Godrick's heart speeding up higher. Close to hurting his ribs from the rhythm of its pace.

"Your ideals are noble and honest, and I sense neither overt ambition, a lack of wisdom nor foresight. You have pleased me. I did well in taking you in during your time of need. Stripping you of communion and undoing any corrections from us will suffice."

And then suddenly the avatar vanished, reappearing behind him. The energy it conveyed had changed, another aspect had taken over the ritual.

"Yes, that's right. You think everything was your genius, but no, it wasn't," the Aspect of the light god said. "Of course, I'll also be taking back my divine power, but everything else you may keep. It was your divine job to save my faithful, and as little as I like that particular foul-mouthed creature. She is one of the purest creatures in existence, her faith in my being is welcomed. I will even be grateful. And allow you to take two items from your work, one of them must be our excommunicated pilgrim's robes. They are already made and waiting for you, don't worry." The Aspect raised a finger, pain blanketing Godrick's vision.

Head pounding, he felt like he was going to be sick with vile. Stumbling unsteadily to the ground he screamed out. The pain in his head became almost unbearable.

Godrick looked up at the trickster aspect of the light god. He knew this one as Consang, and he was grinning at him widely while laughing.

"Hahahaha. I had to make it an equal exchange, you know? You still broke your oath and must be punished," the Aspect said.

"Of course, my lord," Godrick replied.

And then he was gone, as mysteriously as he had arrived vanishing without a trace. Traumatizing Godrick had seemed to be his goal all along having left immediately after accomplishing it. Its laughter escaped into the boundaries of the miracle, bouncing back, as an echoing horror into the poor pilgrim's mind.

Godrick would never forget his second gift from a being of immense power for a second time in a month: "trauma." The trauma would haunt him for months to come, causing continuous trembling and fear.

Hours later,

After recovering from the onslaughts of the miracle. And dealing with the heckling and patronizing of the clergy members. Godrick was back in his chamber packing up all the bits and pieces of belongings he had.

He wore the Pilgrim's robe of the excommunicado. A grayish-blue robe colored with magical enchantments. Similar in design to the "miracle-enhanced" Exorcists field case. Providing the wearer with facilitation in casting.

Plainly If he wanted to add. A caster's robe, not the usual elemental or divinely attuned robes of the Clergy. This was a robe meant for non-religious affiliated casters. It seemed that the oath had worked in his favor during the Undivining.

Without his divine power, it became an irreplaceable piece of Godrick's apparel considering its utility. He took out the letter from Alana, smirking as he read it one more time. Thanking the heavens that she never showed. He placed it in a pocket inside his robes and picked up his case.

The other item he was allowed to pick. Was the 'exorcist's field bag,' decreed by the aspect himself. A costly piece that he took, mainly out of spite but also for its special properties.

This case was a leather and "miracle-enhanced" briefcase. It could fit quite a large accommodation of items at no expense for weight, and no way for other people to access it. Inside lay many of the items as well as the texts he had been transcribing recently.

The only conceivable problem with such a Miraculous item lay in its soul bond. He would need to have it near him at least within a 100 feet span or it would break the soul bond within the day. Allowing any and all, access to it.

Someone had broken it and accessed the bag. The majority of the materials he had harvested still remained. Large portions of his transcribed texts were likely confiscated. He had shaped them all into books as well in order to confuse and confound.

Some of them were repeated in different languages. Others shaped into the combined language system Godrick had created. None of these mattered. As every single book that was previously present, had all been compressed into his crowning achievement.

'The Grimoire'

When it was unveiled from the secret compartment in Godrick's bag he sighed with relief. This Tome; contained what looked like the mad scribblings of a lunatic or a child. They confiscated everything that was important to them. Leaving him with his true treasure.

While Exorcists had numerous arrays of materials and tools at their disposal. The costliest of which was not the 10 gold coins worth of scriptures. But the magically enchanted bag that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. They had known this would be his pick and run through it, failing to uncover his real magnum opus.

Everything had gone exactly as he had predicted. With as little knowledge to the proceedings as he held, he found every possible loophole to come out on top, and he succeeded. It was now time to retreat from the hostile workings of the church and faiths. But before he could leave one more clergymen stood before his door.

Bishop Ventura visited him just before he went to his office. He looked at Godrick with a proud look in his eyes. Extending his right hand to him. A shaking of hands was performed; and Ventura's eyes glistened, enough to notice that he was holding back his tears.

Godrick held his own back. Attempting to preserve the old man's dignity with a look of solemn understanding. "Stay safe my childer; the lord's blessings may no longer be upon you, but know my prayers will." Ventura said to him one tear escaping unto his left cheek, his ancient face wizened and understanding.

And with that, the two men bid a farewell. There was no longing promise that they would see each other again and toast to their reunion. There were no more tears that the men would shed, Ventura was a practical and stoic man.

He did not give in nor suppress his emotions. Merely storing them as precious memories to reflect upon and not act. Having held him as patriarch for so long had bestowed Godrick some of his qualities. This allowed him a deeper level of understanding to his person.

Walking away from the Temple, he took in all of his memories, reminiscing happily. The smells from the Apothecary, the organized systems of the library. And the hallowed feeling your spirit felt entering the Temple's halls.

These were good memories that he himself would cherish, the rest were to be stored deep in his mind –not to be accessed unless needed.

The sight of the temple became less visible per every step he took as he journeyed towards the horizon. Once he had walked far enough. He lifted his hood to prevent the sun's celestial rays from hitting him. One of the trade-offs of no longer being an exorcist priest, was losing his old temperature-regulated outfit.

As he journeyed onwards however.

A person came into view at quite the fast pace, sprinting all the way till reaching him. Godrick halted, observing the stranger who seemed out of breath.

"Ey' there pilgrim" (pant), (pant), "is" (pant), "is the temple that way?" The red-haired, and obsidian blue-eyed Alana asked.

She was sweating profusely, her face red, and mouth panting. Her look was ferocious yet beautiful. With a huntress's outfit adorning her appearance. Holding a perfect amount of functionality, while allowing her to look as comfortable as if she was wearing her own skin.

He noticed it hid all the scarring that surrounded her body.

"Alana, what are you doing here?" The Pilgrim asked confusedly, lowering his hood.

"Father, what are you wearing?" She asked him back suspicious in her tone.

"Alas, I am a Father no longer, you may now refer to me as Pilgrim Godrick the Excommunicado." A humble answer as per his new station of exile.

"Hmmm, naaah. I'll call you Rick or Heretic, got it Heretic." She said as she smiled viciously at him.

Godrick sighed at this, but he understood she could not be reasoned with, so he allowed her the whimsy.

"As you wish sister, I regret your wasted trip, but I did not realize that you were serious about the help. It would not have made much of a difference, but the gesture was appreciated. I will continue my pilgrimage now." He said trying to walk away but her hand extended to grab him, holding him firmly in place.

"Sister. Wouldn't have mattered. What the hell do ya mean?! I didn't pull this ole' gal" a heavy and large blade came into Godrick's vision " –back for nothing did I?"

"And second, you ain't a priest no longer?" She asked confused, quickly overshadowed by anger.

"Thirdly, you know. My. Name." A cold feeling wrapped the pilgrim as she enunciated the last words with a heavy intensity.

"ALANA! Alana, say my damned name, Priest!" Angered exclamations escaped her, as she pulled the blade to his neck. Its size almost matched her body in both mass and height. Certainly seeming to weigh a little if not the same as her, guessing from how she was sinking a bit more than him on the mud. Godrick went unphased he had learned of her and knew her as no merciless killer.

"We're going right back to them, and I'm going to "convince them" to get you, your old job back." She air quoted to imply a conspiracy.

"No, we will not, and neither will you Alana. That is not how it works, and I doubt you would listen if I tried to explain it." Godrick commanded with authority.

"So let me just say this. I am glad, I am no longer a Priest. Being excomunicado hurts, but it will allow me to do what I really want to do in my life right now. You have no debt to me and as such, you should not go through the trouble." He raised his tone a bit, expecting it to be the only likely way she would concede to him. Once silenced reigned between them he continued walking.

Watching him move away from her for a second, she hesitated before going to his side. An inner monologue of struggles had seemed to happen within her before she asked.

"What are you gonna do then, why give up your old life?" Her eyes followed him from the side, expecting something out of him that he could not understand.

There was no longer a need to hesitate, "Magic." He said dreamily as the heat of passions took him.

"It is thought to be heresy, but I aim to rectify that." A halt in his steps happened as he raised a finger with this statement.

"And it will all start with fully exploring all the fields of magic. The paths, and specifically this little theory I have been working on called the stages of mana. You know they are relative to the paths since they all utilize mana..." At the mention of Mana her eyes flared to life.

"If I can find the mysteries of Mana, it could, help me uncover the mysteries of the world, the whole universe even, hahaha." Passion drove his every word. Mixing with the fruit's effects, a new type of fervor building within himself.

Alana eyed him piercingly, as if she could see through his soul with her gorgeous onyx gems. They bestowed her an alien beauty deep within their piercing blue center. A grin crossed her face and Godrick thought that now she would just think him mad and leave him be. But she sped off, standing right in front of him. Her grin now showing perfect white teeth.

A maddened gaze was on her as she spoke, "Ain't that just downright dandy then. You know's the way I see it, I owes you a debt you see." She stated as formally as she could. Arms crossed as she closed her eyes, nodding to compliment the posture.

"I'm a Northender if ya' ain't noticed it yet Heretic." Godrick saw a purer smile emerge from her face, it looked; less unhinged.

"We settle our debts, and while I would've wanted to settle it quickly and tend to my own matters. Currently, yours and mine align. Here's what's gonna happen heretic, I'll just come with ya properly, as an escort per se, no charge." She rose her arms disarmingly into the air, opening up her palms to show the full truth.

"Let's see where this partnership can take us, yes? Deal?" Her right hand extended forward not waiting for him to clasp her hand in acceptance. Only grabbing his hand while forcefully and easily clasping it to hers. In mock acceptance of the deal she shook them forcing him to follow along.

He looked at her closely now. Finally recognizing the look in her eyes, she had stumbled onto the same obsession as him. The way she spoke, the hurry to finish everything that impeded that pursuit of their desire.

Everything about her right now told him that this was her life now and she could no longer turn back.

"Deal." He agreed.