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Jinx didn’t come to Janna’s temple much. It wasn’t her goddess, that was for sure. She liked religion well enough; it had always fascinated her, even as a child, back when she still prayed to the bluebird, but now it seemed a tad too idealistic of a creed.
It was a strange kind of temple, nothing like the Church of Evolution’s austere cathedrals. It had few walls, mostly being made up of candle-studded pillars and rickety pagodas. But the wind could roar as loud as it wanted outside, but it never touched a single candle. Maybe there was some truth to the stories after all.
“You must be blessed.”
Jinx turned around quickly, startled. A priestess greeting her with a smile.
“Your hair. Blue is an unusual color. A sign of Janna’s blessing.”
Jinx scoffed at that.
“Yeah? Janna must be a sadistic freak then. I’m the exact opposite of blessed.”
The priestess just smiled.
“Janna’s blessings aren’t an easy life. They give you the ability to go on no matter what happens.”
“That’s not always a blessing,” Jinx said bitterly.
That shut her up, but not for long.
“If you don’t believe, why are you here?”
“My mother used to pray to Janna,” Jinx said. “She used to take us here when me and my sister were small.”
The priestess handed her three sticks of incense.
“You can have this for free,” she said. “Do you remember what to do?
Jinx shook her head.
“Light them, bow, raise them to your heart, and then pray. When you’re done, place them in the holder.”
“Why are you giving them to me?”
“Maybe you aren’t the one blessed. Maybe you’re the vessel in which she brings her blessings. You bring hope. Janna is the goddess of hope. You’re a priestess of her too, even if you don’t realize it.”
Jinx didn’t know what to say to that. She watched as the priestess left, then looked down at the incense in her hand. She used to think all she brought was death and bad luck. It was strange to think some now saw her as a herald of hope.
She walked over to the statue of the wind goddess. Oddly enough, there was no one else praying there; when she came here as a kid, this place would be crowded. She hadn't been the only one to lose her faith these past few years. The statue was smaller than she remembered it. There were cracks along her face that made it look as if she was crying, and her arm had clearly fallen off at some point, only to be placed back on with a simple cloth wrap. A broken, forgotten goddess.
“Maybe we aren’t so different,” she said.
The goddess didn’t answer. Jinx pulled out her lighter and lit the incense. She went to her knees and raised the sticks across her heart. They smelled surprisingly sweet.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “I haven’t talked to you since I was little. I suppose you probably can’t hear me anyway. Or maybe you just don’t care. Maybe this city just infected you like it did everything else. Maybe you’re not some holy spirit of goodwill anymore. Maybe you’re just broken, like me.”
It felt surprisingly good to talk like this. Jinx took a deep breath and continued.
“It’s funny; everyone thinks I’m some kind of hero now. I used to think I was cursed. That all I ever brought was death. But now everyone loves me. That’s what I wanted, you know, when I was a kid. I wanted to be a hero of the city, a protector. Like you. Like my sister and my father.
“I guess that’s why I’m here. I know this is a long shot, but I haven’t asked you anything in years. So please, just this once, answer my prayer. Let me protect those I love. Isha, Ekko, Vi. My city. Just for once. If you do that, I’ll give you a new paint job or something. Whatever you want. Okay?”
She placed the burning incense sticks in the holder and got to her feet. Her legs ached from being on her knees so long. She bowed her head again, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and then stepped out of the temple and into the wind.
It was strangely comforting, praying. Maybe she should do it more often.