Alya rubbed her arms, lowering them slowly as she looked over the transformed garden before her. Where there was once only snow and dead trunks, now stood rows of lush fruit trees and vines. Apple trees lined one side, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. Mangoes, oranges, pineapples, strawberries, and wild berries grew in clusters across the once-barren ground.
"Now I just have to harvest it," Alya whispered to herself with a small, tired smile.
She heard rustling behind her and turned.
A large group of animals stood at the edge of the garden, watching her in silence. A polar bear, two towering direwolves, foxes, owls, even a few deer. All gathered as if summoned by instinct.
Alya wasn't surprised. The pure energy of a Saintess always attracted animals. Still, she found herself wondering how they had made it here without being seen, especially the bear. But she didn't dwell on it.
"You can stay," she said, her voice firm, "but only if you behave."
None of them moved. She took that as agreement.
She tugged gently at the hem of her dress, bunching it up to form a makeshift basket. The polar bear padded over, calm and obedient, and helped her knock apples from the highest branches. She picked some berries and oranges herself, filling her arms before making her way back to the annex. The animals followed quietly behind her.
Inside, she set the fruits down on a table beside the bed and moved to check on the old woman lying beneath the covers.
Her nanny stirred, eyes fluttering open. She blinked in confusion, dazed and disoriented, until her gaze focused.
"My lady...?" her voice cracked, but the words trembled with joy. "Is it really you?"
Alya knelt and hugged her gently. "Yes, nanny. It's me."
The old woman's eyes filled with tears as she clung to her.
"I must have died… and gone to heaven."
Alya laughed softly. "No, nanny. We're still alive. Both of us."
Her nanny pulled away slightly, hands trembling as she touched Alya's face. "But how? I thought... they tried to kill you."
"They did," Alya said, her voice calm. "But the Duke, Soren, he saved me. He knows I'm the true Saintess."
Her nanny's eyes widened. "He did? That man… he's better than I thought. We'll pray for him, every day."
Alya nodded with a smile but didn't speak. She didn't have the heart to tell her that Soren's kindness came with conditions. That he saved her not out of mercy, but out of need.
"Come on, nanny. You haven't eaten in a day. You must be starving."
Alya summoned water from the air and rinsed an apple clean. She handed it to her nanny, who took a bite and smiled, her lips red from the juice.
"It's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted," she whispered.
But Alya frowned slightly. "Nanny, why were you cleaning the annex?"
The woman tensed. Her hands went still.
She remembered. The cold floors. The scornful glares. The voice that had barked at her.
"If you clean, you eat."
That was the rule. But even when she obeyed, there were days the food never came.
Alya's gaze softened, but the shadows in her eyes deepened as she watched her nanny struggle to find the words.
Nanny couldn't bring herself to tell Alya the truth.
"There's no reason, really," she said gently. "I was just cleaning because I had a lot of free time."
Alya saw the lie in her kind smile but didn't push it. She knew all too well what kind of treatment Nanny might've faced.
"I'm glad we're here together, Nanny," Alya said instead.
"Me too, my lady."
---
Back in the city, Soren had just completed his inspection of the barrier and surrounding terrain. He was mounting his horse to return to the manor when a knight in dark silver armor ran toward him, out of breath.
"Your Grace! Thank the stars you haven't left yet."
Soren's gaze was cool and steady as he looked down from his horse."What is it now?"
"Monsters, my lord. Spotted in the city outskirts. Some have already broken into merchant homes. There are injuries."
Soren exhaled deeply, his expression tightening.
Of course. He had nearly forgotten.
It happened every single time. Smugglers would try to sneak northern beasts, both magical and wild, into the capital. They failed, every time. Without proper control wards, the creatures always escaped. And once they did, the first to die were always their captors.
Soren dismounted.
Looks like I won't be returning just yet.
---
Meanwhile, in the quiet annex, life had become unexpectedly peaceful.
When Nanny first left the bedroom and saw the interior filled with wild animals—foxes curled near the fireplace, a direwolf drinking water from a basin, even a polar bear lounging lazily near the garden entrance, she nearly fainted again.
"Nanny, wait! They're harmless!" Alya had cried out, catching her just in time.
It had taken a great deal of coaxing, but eventually, Nanny accepted the bizarre new normal.
In the following days, they gained a helpful ally, a man named Eric. A humble groundskeeper who, it turned out, had been sneaking food to Nanny in secret before Alya arrived.
With Eric's help, they brought in cooking utensils, proper dishes, and fresh clothes for Alya. He even found seeds for her garden and, on rare occasions, managed to trade for some meat, enough to feed their growing collection of wild companions.
For the first time in a long while, things felt… calm.
But peace never lasted.
It was just past midnight when an uninvited guest slipped silently through the window of Nanny's room. The man was cloaked head to toe in black, his footsteps silent, his blade already drawn.
He saw someone lying on the bed, silver-white hair spilling over the pillow. Her back was turned.
That had to be her.
Alya. The heretic saintess.
No matter what she was now, he would kill her.
He raised the blade, but the moment it neared her body, chains made of radiant light burst out of thin air and wrapped around him.
His arms were yanked outward, stretched painfully. His legs snapped apart, suspended in midair like a marionette.
"What the—?!"
"Shhh," came a voice from the corner."You'll wake Nanny."
The assassin turned in shock. Alya stepped out from the shadows, her pale hair glowing faintly in the moonlight.
"You're al—!" he tried to yell, but another chain appeared and gagged him mid-sentence.
With a casual flick of her hand, the man, still suspended in glowing chains, drifted through the air behind her like a balloon caught in invisible wind.
She walked out of the annex, past dozing foxes and sleeping wolves, and into the garden. The moonlight cast long silver shadows across the vines and stone path.
When they reached the center, she turned to him and smiled sweetly.
"Here should do nicely."
She raised her hand again, and the gag vanished.
"You're an assassin, right? Sent by one of those bastards in the capital?" Alya asked, her voice calm and almost amused. "Could you come back in two months? I'll be ready to die then. You see, my nanny is sick, and I need to take care of her first."
She gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile.
"I'll kill you, bitch," the assassin spat.
Alya let out a long sigh. As a saintess, she wasn't allowed to kill. All life was supposed to be sacred. But there were always ways around rules.
She knelt beside the man, searched him, and pulled out a piece of enchanted parchment—thin, glowing slightly. "A viper," she muttered. Only that guild used magic paper like this.
Without hesitation, she cut his palm, using his blood as ink. She wrote a message on the paper: The prey is dead.
A moment later, glowing words appeared in reply: Slither away.
She crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside.
The assassin stared at her, eyes wide. "How do you know our code?"
Alya smiled faintly. "Everyone has their secrets."
She stood. "I'll leave you here for the night. Those chains are enchanted; don't waste your energy trying to escape. I'll check on you in the morning."
Then she turned and walked away, letting the freezing northern wind do the rest. Maybe a cold night would teach him something.
The assassin, lying stiff and silent, bit down on a small pouch hidden under his molar. Poison. Failure meant death. That was the rule.
As the night passed, the northern forest came alive. The direwolves, the polar bear, the snow leopard, and even the foxes crept out from the trees. They surrounded the corpse in a quiet circle, sniffing at it.
The polar bear nudged the body with its nose. No movement. Dead. Only then did they all pounce, tearing into the assassin's remains. Meat was meat.
By morning, Nanny burst into Alya's room, panic in her eyes. "Something's wrong with the animals!"
Alya followed her to the garden and stopped cold.
The animals were groaning, some collapsing into the snow. She blinked, then looked to the tree where she'd chained the assassin. The chains were hanging loose. A wide, dark stain stretched across the tree bark, the snow, and the fur of the creatures now whimpering in pain.
She didn't need to ask what happened. The animals had eaten the assassin, and he'd poisoned himself.
Alya sighed and raised her hand. Healing light flowed from her palm, washing over the groaning creatures. One by one, they steadied, then perked up. The direwolves were the first to recover. They leapt up and began racing through the snow as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, thank the stars," Nanny said, hugging one of the wolves, stroking its thick fur. "I'm so glad you're all okay."
Alya looked at the blood still matted in their fur and on the snow. Either Nanny hadn't noticed it… or had simply chosen to ignore it.
Shaking her head, Alya turned and walked back toward the house.
Near the entrance, a woman stood. Her clothes were torn, her eyes wild and desperate. The moment she saw Alya, she fell to her knees.
"Please," she begged, trembling. "Help my son. He was attacked by monsters!"