The priest’s chamber was dim, lit only by the dying embers of a sacred flame. Rosalinda stood tall, her voice sharp with accusation.

"You lied to the villagers in broad daylight—and had the women’s leader assist you.”

The priest scowled, his face shadowed by flickering light.

"What do you truly want? To be scorned by the villagers instead of worshipped and appreciated?"

Rosalinda shrugged, her tone cold.

“I am no god. I dare not wish to be worshipped.”

The priest threw his head ...