Everyone has their own god. They pray to that god, worship him, and beg for guidance when the darkness makes them weak.
The society I was born into does not believe in Jesus’s god. There is no church in our town. No Christmas Eves. The small town has only one temple on the main street, a structure that looks like a stadium built around a great fire that burns purple at its heart. The flame never dies so long as people still believe in Salua, our god.
In school they taught us that the rest of the world might call Salua a “devil,” but we should never care what outsiders think. Seeing Salua’s blessings every single day, carrying his light in our hearts, and succeeding under his shadow should be enough to keep us devoted.
We worship Salua and pray to him to guide us along the right path and grant us lives full of freedom and love. “May Salua’s blessing be with you.”
They say that if you are truly devoted—if you pray for him to “suffer less from the coldness of a world without true love” and ask little in return—all your wishes come true. If you have struggled your whole life and still have nothing to show for it, it means your love for him was never pure enough. You were never devoted enough.
That is probably me.
I studied hard for a good degree so I could earn enough money to pour every coin into my poor family. My father died when I was six. My mother has not had a single day of rest since. The weight of every job she forced onto her own shoulders finally crushed her. She grew old too soon. Her body weakened year after year. Her mind tangled itself in dreams she once held for her only daughter, in the harsh reality of having no work left, and in a restless fear she could never name.
I wanted to quit college and find a job instead, to take some of the pressure from her shoulders. She would not allow it. I still remember her words exactly: “I’m working so hard so you can have a good life and never become like me. That is all I ever wished for. Study hard, get a good job, make a beautiful family… and then I will be the happiest woman on earth.”
My younger brother could not bear living in that “shithole.” He ran away, became a drug dealer, and was arrested far from town—right when my mother fell sick and everything that could go wrong already had.
Outsiders might call it bad luck. Here in this town, Salua’s Savers say you cannot live a good life beneath Salua’s shadow if you do not worship him properly.
I have been too busy surviving my whole life to attend Salua’s rituals and ceremonies. Too exhausted every night to kneel and whisper prayers, to sleep with chains around my ankles and wrists, to take an ice-cold bath, to make soup with deer blood, to tattoo his mark across my back, and to walk to the temple every Wednesday and pray before the purple flame.
It was sad to sit through the Savers’ lectures about Salua’s eternal suffering at school. But I also had a mother at home who could not live forever the way Salua does—and who might die soon if I could not keep buying her medicine.
Adults have drilled into my ears for years that I was “living like an outsider.” I never cared.
Until my third job application was rejected like the rest. It would have been safer to stay in my hometown and find work here, but there was almost nothing left, and I needed a higher salary. The rest of the country was mostly Christian. In every interview, the moment they heard where I was born and raised, they offered an uncomfortable smile and a quiet shake of the head. “Sorry, but our other employees may not be comfortable working with a Saluaian.”
I even considered telling them I was not religious. They did not care. Just the name of Salua attached to my hometown was enough to push me deeper into despair and misery.
How can a god grant anyone happiness when he himself suffers and cannot find eternal peace, when he needs worshipers just to feel a little less pain?
I could be killed for thoughts like these. I was simply that depressed. I hated everyone and everything. After a few days of crying and cursing, I finally left the house and walked straight to the temple. Outside this town I was nobody. I could not leave. I could not do anything with my life. So I decided to become a devoted Saluaian and serve him with everything I had left—to make my mother happy and healthy again, and to pull my brother back from the dark path he refused to abandon. I wanted nothing for myself. I only wanted a happy family, just once. That should have been enough.
I signed up to become a Saver and one of Salua’s Virgins. I attended every ceremony, every painful ritual, every rehearsal for “The Dance of Salvation Virgins.” I still kept my part-time jobs. It was a hell of a schedule.
Salua can feel warm and alive again only when he chooses a bride from among the Salvation Virgins. He appears in human form—a tall man with purple eyes and pale white skin, wrapped in a black robe on his wedding day—and makes the chosen girl his. Their marriage rarely lasts more than ten or, at most, twenty years. The bride may not be good enough for him, or she may simply grow sick after Salua has consumed her warmth for so long. A healthy, strong body is essential.
I have heard that almost all of his former wives died after he left them. The Savers say those women were chosen and still failed in their duty, so they did not deserve the honor. Without being Salua’s, they would never have been anyone else. So they died.
A wedding ceremony took place when I was nine. I was desperate to see what Salua looked like, but children were forbidden from attending. Now I am practicing to become his next bride, because Salua blesses the family of the woman he claims—and “she will ask for nothing if she is good enough.”
If the richest CEO in our town were not a devoted Saluaian, and if there were not other successful people in the world who still served him, I would never have believed my efforts might work.
That CEO, Mr. Thomas, runs a machine-factory company. If I could ever understand that field, I would apply to work for him without hesitation.
My mother’s amnesia worsened day by day no matter how hard I tried in the temple. I grew more depressed with every failed attempt. Sometimes she believed she still had work to do and wandered out of the house while I was gone. I would search for her, praying she had not been hurt or collapsed somewhere. I could not afford a nurse.
Two years after I joined the Salvation Virgins, a message arrived from Salua—only a single sentence written in ash: “Hold the wedding in March.”
That was only one month away. Everyone became excited and nervous. The Savers grew stricter than ever. The Virgins argued over who was most worthy. I felt nothing. I knew the girls who had trained since childhood had far better chances than I did. I was the newest. No one expected anything from me. Still, I refused to skip the rehearsals for the dance and the choir.
The day arrived. I was terrified of meeting Salua in person. Some rumors claimed people sometimes fainted just from confronting his aura.
I wore the same black dress as the other Virgins. I performed the dance, sang, and did not flinch while swimming in the freezing water.
The purple flame grew larger and larger until two fiery wings spread from its heart. Then something dark erupted from the center. I could not watch closely—the light was too bright. The next moment a tall figure clothed in black stood before the fire, which now burned with ordinary heat. It was him. Salua. His sharp purple eyes scanned the entire hall. We all bowed, foreheads pressed to the cold stone floor. I was shivering—not only from the chill he brought into the room or the icy water still clinging to my skin. His presence alone was enough.
“Dance for me.”
His voice was light and heavy at once—velvet and smooth, echoing through the hall. The twelve Salvation Virgins rose at once and arranged ourselves to dance for him one by one. I was last.
No one dared look up at him. The first girl was Mr. Thomas’s granddaughter. She began shaking, then steadied herself. The next was a girl who had always looked down on me and mocked me. She could not finish the dance and collapsed. Two men took her by the arms and led her to the back room. She was trembling violently.
Some of the others were extraordinary. Some were not. Then it was the turn of the eighth girl.
“Bring the last one forward.”
I did not understand at first that he meant me. The other girls gasped and stared. The male Savers tried hard not to frown. I stood frozen, looking anywhere but at the place where Salua waited.
“The newest virgin. Can you not hear me?”
I stumbled forward, head still lowered.
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Dance for me.”
My legs felt like stone. My body remained locked in the bow. But I drew in the cold air mixed with his aura and forced myself to concentrate. I moved—not as gracefully as I had practiced, but every motion carried the raw attempt to impress him. I let my mind slip free of the hall, of the strict Savers, of the jealous girls, of the adults and their expectations. I did not even think of my mother, who was probably already in bed. For that short moment I let myself be free of my hellish life and danced simply as a girl with nothing left but a heart that still wanted to love and be loved.
At the end of the dance, after the final sway, I risked a glance at his eyes. They were fixed on mine. His expression remained completely collected. I finished with a deep bow. No one spoke. There was no sound except my quick breathing and the loud hammer of my heart.
Then I felt a cold hand settle on my shoulder. The chill sent a thin shiver down my spine.
“I want you to be mine,” he whispered.
My breath caught. My heart raced harder. I could not trust my own ears.
“Raise your head and see your husband properly.”
Like an old, rusty toy I straightened little by little and looked at him. His expression had not changed. He leaned in. His pale, cold lips met mine. People murmured congratulations and special prayers for the wedding. I was too shocked, too full of disbelief, to react even to the kiss.
“Won’t you swear your loyalty to me?” he murmured, his face still too close. I parted my lips but could not find the words. His cold fingers traced my bottom lip and the curve of my cheek. I could not remember a single vow they had taught us for this moment.
“I… I swear…”
“Good. Shall you be the one I have always been looking for.”
