The Sinful Young Master

Jolthar stood awkwardly in the centre of the shrine, the silence stretching on as Eloda continued to stare at him with eyes full of expectation. After his call, nothing happened as he just stayed still.

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The deity's frail figure seemed so out of place in her current, weakened form. Jolthar scratched the back of his head, feeling the weight of the entire situation pressing on him.

"Listen…" Jolthar began, his voice casual but carrying that unmistakable undercurrent of sarcasm. "She doesn't exactly take requests, okay? She's not some genie I can summon on command. She shows up when she feels like it."

He spread his hands with a small, helpless shrug. "Honestly, I'd have better luck calling customer service."

Eloda's sharp gaze narrowed in scepticism. She looked Jolthar over like she was trying to pierce through him and find the truth hidden beneath his flippant words. At first, she had assumed he was being reluctant or simply refusing to help her. Yet, the tone in his voice—the slight edge of honesty—made her reconsider.

"Try harder," she said firmly, though the weariness in her voice betrayed her fragile state.

Jolthar huffed in exasperation, throwing his arms up in mock defeat. "Try harder? Lady, I have tried harder. I've saved you once and made it out alive when a bunch of nightmare-fuel creatures came at me like I owed them money. I'd say I'm already doing you a favour."

Eloda stared at him quietly, unamused by his wit. Then she spoke, her voice softer this time but weighed with significance. "I am no longer the deity I once was. My essence is nearly gone. I am more mortal now than divine."

She started talking about how she could be killed with just the slightest touch, her vulnerability evident in her eyes.

Jolthar froze suddenly, a faint prickle running up his spine. Something had shifted in the air—an imperceptible change, like the faintest whisper of a storm on the horizon. The atmosphere inside the shrine grew heavier, almost suffocating, as if reality itself held its breath. Time suddenly seemed slow as he could trace out the slightest moment in the room.

Outside the shrine, Raayani's head snapped toward the building, her keen senses alerted to the sudden disturbance. The unfamiliar sensation that washed over her made her heart skip a beat—foreign and unsettling. She furrowed her brows, trying to steady her breathing as a bead of sweat trailed slowly down her temple.

"What is this?" she murmured to herself, wiping the sweat drop with her finger.

The sensation tightened in her chest, and her fingers instinctively curled into fists. Her voice trembled, though she covered it with a forced laugh.

"Am I… afraid?" She whispered shakily. It had been many years since she last had such a feeling, and it almost felt completely new and unknown.

The realisation almost amused her, yet her unease only deepened. She gazed at the shrine with intensity, the flicker of fear still lingering in her eyes. "It's been years since I've felt this."

Whatever—or whoever—was inside that shrine had managed to shake even her.

-

Inside, Eloda had fallen silent. Her eyes had gone wide, and her breathing grew shallow. She stared, unblinking, past Jolthar, her expression frozen in shock.

Jolthar let out a dry laugh, his tone laced with unease. "She's right behind me, isn't she?" He could feel the familiar presence.

There was no answer. The silence in the shrine felt deafening. Eloda didn't answer as she was staring in absolute shock; her gaze was focused on something past Jolthar.

Slowly, Jolthar turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Hovering behind him, barely a foot away, was her.

Qalena.

The goddess's ethereal form radiated a light so divine it seemed to warp the very air around her. Her gown rippled like flowing water, shimmering with hues of silver and blue that shifted as though alive. The edges of her form were soft, blurred by the sheer intensity of the light emanating from her. Her presence was simultaneously serene and overwhelming as if the very concept of divinity had taken shape before him.

Her face was calm, yet her expression carried the weight of unfathomable wisdom. Eyes that seemed as deep as the cosmos itself bore into him, seeing everything—the surface, the soul, the past, the present. Time itself felt suspended under her gaze.

Jolthar's mouth opened, but no words came out. He had seen her before, yet she seemed so different from the previous encounters. The divine aura around her was like a blanket of heavy ocean that was ready to sweep over him if she even moved a bit closer. Everything about her now seemed new to him; maybe it was because of Eloda, he thought to himself.

As Qalena descended further, her divine radiance filled the shrine completely, making the room feel both infinite and stifling.

Eloda, frail and injured as she was, immediately pushed through her pain and dropped to her knees. Her forehead pressed to the cold ground, a shiver of disbelief wracking her body.

"Goddess Qalena..." Eloda's voice trembled as she forced herself to bow deeper, her body shaking from fear and reverence. It was almost incomprehensible to her—this presence, her presence—standing here in the mortal realm. Even in the deity realm, a place of divine beings, the Goddess of Wrath and Change rarely revealed herself.

To see Qalena in person was an event of a thousand lifetimes.

Her shaking hands clenched the fabric of her robe as she dared to lift her head slightly, her eyes wide and glassy with disbelief. She looked at Jolthar—bandaged, dishevelled, looking as mortal and ordinary as ever—and her mind reeled. This boy? The careless, witty child had managed to draw the favour of Qalena—the most fierce and unpredictable goddess in the higher realms?

Jolthar stood awkwardly, fidgeting with the edge of a loose bandage. "Uh…" he muttered under his breath, sparing Eloda a half-guilty glance. "Maybe bowing so low with broken ribs isn't the best idea?"

Eloda didn't move, too consumed by the sheer awe that gripped her.

Qalena's ethereal gaze swept over the trembling deity and then turned toward Jolthar, her expression unreadable. For the briefest of moments, a flicker of something—concern—crossed her features as she took in his current state. The torn bandages, the lingering exhaustion etched into his frame. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by her usual graceful indifference.

"You dare to summon me using one of my children for your own gain, Eloda?" Qalena's voice rang like a chime of pure crystal, resonating in the very bones of those who heard it. Her tone was calm, yet it carried a dangerous undercurrent that rippled through the air.

"Did you believe you could harness the favour of the gods so recklessly?"

Eloda's face paled further as the words sank in, and she immediately bowed even deeper, pressing herself as close to the ground as she could manage. Her broken voice cracked under the weight of the goddess's words. "F-Forgive me, great goddess! I was unaware… unaware it was you who watched over him.

She knew that Jolthar was blessed by a goddess, but she hadn't expected the goddess to be one of the most dangerous goddesses in the whole universe.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Jolthar raised a brow at that, his voice cutting in with a half-smirk. "Watched over is a strong phrase. More like 'shows up, scares the hell out of me, and leaves me to deal with it.'"

The air in the shrine grew even heavier. Qalena's head turned slowly toward Jolthar, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Would you prefer I let you perish, mortal?"

Jolthar swallowed hard but plastered on his usual cheeky grin. "I mean, no. Just saying, a little less ominous entrance next time would be great. I'm running out of heartbeats here."

Qalena's lips curved ever so slightly, her faint amusement like a drop of rain in an ocean of power. "You are the one that called me, though. And don't assume I would come anytime you call me."

Jolthar was perplexed; his expression was that of deep confusion.

Then, she looked back at Eloda, whose trembling form remained locked in her bow.

"Understand this," Qalena said, her voice low yet echoing. "You will not exploit the gifts of my chosen. You have fallen, Eloda, and it was your pride that brought you here."

Eloda's voice was small, broken with humility. "I understand, Goddess. I… I meant no disrespect."

Jolthar rubbed his temple, trying to piece things together. He looked at Qalena, half-confused. "Wait—so this whole thing with her losing her power… it's her fault? I thought she got cursed or something."

Qalena didn't answer him directly. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, the soft glow of her form pulsing like the heartbeat of a star. "Power corrupts those who do not understand its purpose. Eloda strayed from hers."

Eloda flinched at the truth in the goddess's words.

Jolthar, meanwhile, raised his hands in surrender, mumbling, "Got it. Divine life lesson. Loud and clear."