He had brought the corrupted Celestial to many places, and to many places, did his objective fail. The shrine seemed so dauntingly quiet with its overstretching walls and symbolic structures. Here, Arme could feel the holiness behind them. They emanated the cold power of his Goddess and he could feel at ease here, but that didn’t matter. Apostasia sat, at a distance, next to him with a blank expression.
“So, do you feel anything?” he questioned.
Apostasia turned his head, his swirling eyes betraying nothing.
“Like I said before, Ishmael does not answer me,” responded Apostasia.
Arme sighed, knowing somewhat that this would be the result. He did not expect to have to go this far. There were a few shrines where he tried blessing Apostasia, which either did nothing, or produced a painful response. It elicited no response. He thought to himself about what to do next, where to go on from here. At this rate, he was only giving Apostasia discomfort and pain.
“Alright, we’ll go to the next shrine-” he started before the doors to the shrine opened.
“Oh, there you are, Sia~!” rung out a cheery voice. Arme sighed again, thinking to himself, the annoying Celestial is here again. He turned around to say something, but saw Apostasia making his way to the cheery Celestial.
“I haven't seen you in a long time, Sia~!”
“It's only been a couple days,” he responded emotionlessly.
“It’s been a couple days too long.”
The Celestial had complained with a pouty face.
“So, how’ve you been?”
Apostasia responded with a tired tone, “Been dragged around to many shrines…”
“You’re tired, then.”
He nodded, the daunting silence of the shrine didn't seem so suffocating. Arme didn’t know how Erbluhen found them, but it would get in the way of his methods.
Erbluhen had a tired face, looking relieved to have found Apostasia in time. He had no idea what Arme was planning on doing, bringing the corrupted Celestial to many holy places. Apostasia only got tired and worse with these attempts. Sighing, the Celestial walked over to Arme who stood up from his seat.
“Are you trying to cure Apostasia again?” asked Erbluhen, his tone signifying a lecture.
“I am,” he answered. “It’ll make him feel better if he was purged of Henir’s influence.”
“How many times have I got to tell you, Arme? That’s not going to work.”
Arme had an idea that this would happen. It was impossible to change someone’s mind, to change their core belief when it had gotten twisted to an insurmountable degree. Even so, Arme thought he’d try to at least ease the corrupted Celestial’s concerns. It had to be done this way, right? Goddess Ishmael would certainly guide Apostasia...if she’d ever replied at all to him.
“Arme...the harsh truth is that Ishmael will not respond to Sia,” said Erbluhen. How Erbluhen managed to stay cheerful despite Apostasia’s condition never ceased to surprise Arme. “You cannot keep doing this to Sia. You have to understand that not everything can be ‘cured’, or done right by Goddess Ishmael’s power.”
But how could he understand? Arme was created by Ishmael’s hand, created for one sole purpose and that was to restore the El to its rightful state. He believed in Her raw power to expunge corruption and anything related to Henir’s influence. This did not mean that he wanted to eradicate Apostasia--although, it had crossed his mind before--but he wanted to alleviate his pain.
All of Arme’s answers came from Ishmael. Her freezing, yet sacred power managed to ease every single one of his worries. She would answer him from time to time with her godly words, and he wouldn’t object. After all, he was Goddess Ishmael’s holy Celestial. It was his duty also to expunge any evil from this world--mainly, demons.
He thought deeply now, his understanding whirling and swirling around each other like water. Cold and wintry, but crystal clear were his speculations. If bringing Apostasia to shrines didn’t work, what about other methods? Would they work? Or would he end up with the same result? Arme was starting to understand the futility of his actions. There actually wasn’t much to go on with. He had exhausted all his options of having Ishmael communicate with Apostasia, yet none of them worked. Was it really true? Did Ishmael really abandon one of her Celestials?
And for what exactly? Was it because he spent 500 years in the Void? Was it because he got corrupted in the Shadow Forest when it wasn’t even his own fault? Was it because he was desperate and was weak? Was it because Apostasia wasn’t needed? That made him afraid. No, that couldn’t be, right? Goddess Ishmael was merciful, divine and powerful. She could just as easily cure Apostasia of his corrupted nature and bring him back to normal. She wouldn’t just abandon him for something Apostasia couldn’t control, right?
Or was that what happened? Arme found that he couldn’t think clearly, the holy nature of the shrine was evading him quickly, and he collapsed onto his knees. Dizzy spots of black flickered onto his vision and he realised how alone he was. Erbluhen already went away with Apostasia, leaving Arme with his thoughts. His thoughts that were so clear and methodical were now spiraling into one big mess. Was he breathing right? No, his breaths were going out, out and out.
He then realised that Ishmael’s cold power…really didn’t have all the answers. She did abandon Apostasia for his weakness. And if he was weak, too? If he messed up? What would happen then? Would his worst fears come to life like the demons crawling from their god-forsaken cracks? Like cockroaches scattering about, a heavy dark mess of filth?
“No, she couldn’t...she wouldn’t…” he said, growing louder and forceful. “She wouldn’t really…?”
A seed of doubt started to grow.
