Grant Me Your Grace

✨

How much time had passed?

Just as the last of the dawn dew on the green leaves was dripping down, Dahlia opened the door again.

“I’ll see you in a moment, then.”

The chalice was visible behind the deeply sunken lakeshore. Dahlia caught her breath as she looked at the chalice of crimson liquid, then slowly walked forward.

Unlike when she entered, she limped heavily on one leg.

Limping… Lump…

Stomping, stomp, stomp—

Tap, tap, tap—

But in just five steps, the severely limp leg returned to its normal gait. 

Strangers might think that I was faking a limp on purpose, but the moment they stopped looking, I was walking normally.

But who would dare to know that her white thighs, hidden by her long skirt, had been deeply scarred just moments before?

Dahlia rarely suffers injuries. Or, to be more precise, she recovers from any number of casualties in an instant.

Thanks to her divine abilities, the sacred power of her blood.

Dahlia’s blood could heal any illness or wound. No matter how severe the condition, as long as the patient was still breathing, Dahlia’s blood would cleanse them.

Only one in every generation of the Bahran imperial family was chosen by the goddess of Noahite, and that was Bahran Dahlia.

In the country of Bahran, only men inherit the chalice. The princess, chosen by the goddess over the princes, was a mutation herself.

As a result, Dahlia has been confined to the palace since the age of eight, when her blood powers manifested. 

Added to that was the rumor that the unholy princess was cursed by the goddess and should remain untouched.

What could such a child possibly be capable of, but hide the fact that divine power had manifested in a woman who was not even the heir to the throne?

[How dare you, a princess, steal divine power that you shouldn’t have, and for that, you must beg the goddess for forgiveness and sacrifice your blood for the sake of the entire nation of Bahran.]

Yet her father, Emperor Bahran Otthar Khankundra, constantly instilled in her a sense of sacrifice and guilt. 

For her, the outside world was a sacred place where her unclean self was not allowed to tread, a favor from the goddess that would not be forgiven.

Stepping outside the palace for the first time in so long was understandably nerve-wracking. 

If it weren’t for the imperial law that all imperial offspring of the Bahran Empire must hold a coming-of-age ceremony upon reaching their twentieth birthday, she wouldn’t have been able to step foot outside the palace.

Dahlia checked her clothes repeatedly, wondering if there was even a drop of blood on the hem of her dress.

Finally, Dahlia’s feet reached the exterior of the palace, where a white horse was waiting for her. 

The symbol of the Imperial Palace, the water lily, was embroidered with gold thread on the red cloth of the white horse.

“Your Majesty, please climb on your horse.”

With the help of her servants, Dahlia mounted the white horse. Soon, her steed left the palace and began to ride toward the temple.

“The Princess is coming!”

“Her Royal Highness is on her way!”

It had been seven years since Dahlia had been seen outside the palace, not since her thirteenth birthday. 

People poured out onto the streets to catch a glimpse of the long-lost Princess.

Clutching fresh laurel branches in their hands, the people watched as she mounted her horse. 

Armed soldiers stood at every turn as she passed, creating an austere atmosphere.

The ostensible reason was for order, but no one could fail to realize that it was also to prevent anyone from daring to approach the princess.

Dahlia looked down at the ground and turned away from the people’s gazes toward herself, knowing that even without the soldiers, there would be no one to cheer for the cursed princess.

Finally, the procession entered the temple. The imperial family and nobles, including the emperor, were all gathered in the temple.

“Greetings, His Majesty the Emperor.”

Dahlia bowed to the emperor first, then made her way to her seat in the far corner.

But when her eyes locked with Crown Prince Bahran Saltar, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed low, and she quickened her pace. 

She felt as if a sharp blade had passed over her skin.

Uncomfortable glances flew her way as she moved along, but she bore them in silence as she took her seat.

At the end of the long, arduous ritual in Maksru, a deer was placed on the altar before the gods, where the chalice rested. Its limbs bound, and the deer struggled to escape.

“Step up to the altar, Chosen of the Goddess.”

At the word of the high priest Aaron, the Crown Prince Bahran Saltar ascended the high altar alone. 

Picking up the dagger on the altar, he plunged it without hesitation into the deer’s heart.

With a thud, the deer’s chest was pierced, and it convulsed violently, howling in agony.

“Goddess Noahite!”

The high priest’s solemn voice reverberated in the air.

“Since you have chosen the Crown Prince, Bahran Saltar, and granted him divine power, exalt your son in the sight of all the people!”

In response to the high priest’s prayer, Saltar slashed his right palm with the dagger he had driven into the stag’s chest. The blood that flowed from his hand began to pool in the chalice.

The same chalice that held Dahlia’s blood.

“Goddess Noahite, grant us grace.”

Praying to the heavens, Saltar scooped the blood into the chalice with both hands. Then, with a brazen face, he poured it on the deer.

To his amazement, the dying deer rose to its feet. The wound on its chest, which had been gurgling with blood a moment before, had completely disappeared.

The people of Bahran, in awe of the miracle before them, cried out to their gods and shouted hail.

Dahlia watched wordlessly, bitter saliva pooling on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it quickly without anyone noticing.

‘Please… hold on to the end.’

Despite my best efforts to appear unaffected, I felt nervous as I stroked the burning spots on my right palm.

“On this sacred day, Her Majesty Dahlia of Bahran, the only princess of the nation of Bahran, has come of age.”

The words signaled the beginning of the coming-of-age ceremony. Dahlia stepped forward, holding the water lily in both hands. The high priest’s hands, dipped in holy water, rested on her head, shoulders, hands, and feet.

Then the water lily she carried disappeared in flames on the altar.

“For Her Royal Highness, who, by the grace of the Nuit Goddess, will become a true saint…”

The High Priest was about to recite the final rite of the coming-of-age ceremony.

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion of light burst from nowhere. People fell to their seats in shock as the light engulfed the sky without a trace of sound.

Dahlia closed her eyes tightly against the blinding light.

“…”

A moment later, amidst the commotion, Dahlia slowly lowered her arms and peered ahead.

A lone laurel tree grew beside the temple. A man stood there, where, surely, no one had been a moment ago.

His skin was as white as the moon, his hair as black as the night sky, his features harmonious, and his body tall and strong like a statue.

And eyes that glowed red like a blazing flame whenever they caught the sunlight.

The moment his eyes locked with hers, they seemed to set everything on fire.

“Your Highness, the Princess! Your Highness!”

Dahlia fainted, the excruciating pain in her heart trading places with the resuscitation of the deer.

✨

Deep in the night, on a desolate land without a single stem of grass, Dahlia woke up to a cloud of gritty sandy dust.

Dahlia was heading somewhere, leaning on the light of the round moon. Pausing to glance back to make sure she wasn’t being followed, stomped along on her tiny feet.

Her fear of being spotted was outweighed by her desperation to find someone.

Gradually, her breath caught in her throat. Dahlia was about to smile when she finally spotted someone.

“Ah…”

The tightening in her chest turned cold for a moment. In the distance, a man, his face obscured by the sandy dust, stared back.

He must be the one she’s been looking for, she thought, and her eagerness turned to disbelief when she saw him.

No, it was more like fear.

The man drew closer to Dahlia, who wondered aloud. A shadow, darker than the dust of the sand, fell over her body.

“Your Majesty.”

The wind finally died down, and moonlight filtered through the man’s sharp features.

“I beg for your grace.”

Dahlia stopped whimpering.

✨

“Ugh…!”

Dahlia’s eyes snapped wide open. She sucked in a short breath, and it came out in a gasp.

It must have been a dream, because the moment she awakened, the afterimages were gone as quickly as the sand that slipped through her fingers.

All that remained were the feelings of fear, agony, and grief that clutched at her heart.

Dahlia looked around in confusion. She saw the familiar ceiling, the walls filled with books from floor to ceiling, and the dusty remains of a bow.

She let out a long breath of relief as she realized it was her room.

“Ahh…”

At that moment, a searing pain shot through her chest and hands. Crouching down, Dahlia lifted the front of her dress to reveal red spots under her left breast. Her right palm was the same.

The price of blood. The price of blessing and curse, of bringing back the pain of those it healed.

For healing the deer that had been sacrificed to Maksru, and for healing Saltar, who had cut his palm in the name of the Chosen, Dahlia had come to embrace the pain.

“Your Highness, are you awake?”

At that moment, Bertha, the maid, entered the room.

A cute little girl with freckles on both cheeks, she was Dahlia’s closest attendant. The child, who had just turned fifteen, followed the princess with the same sparkle in her eyes as the day she first entered the palace at age eight. 

She was also one of the few people who didn’t hold prejudice against her, despite the rumors that she was cursed.

Dahlia quickly hid her red spots and addressed Bertha.

“What happened to you?”

“Your Grace suddenly lost consciousness just as the coming-of-age ceremony was commencing.”

Suddenly, the events that preceded the loss of consciousness flashed through Dahlia’s mind. 

The final rites of Maksru, the sacrifice, the high priest’s blessing, and the great light that enveloped the temple.

‘From that light… the man appeared.’

A man with red eyes that shone like rubies.