Chapter 20 #2
Lior glanced sidelong at Oaklin with a smile and nudged a foot against theirs, then passed over another of Ryn’s festival rolls and turned back to the stars.
The moonlight gleaming off her copper hair reminded Oaklin of the divine golden glow they saw during the communal prayer.
Their heart gave a lurch of automatic fear, but they shoved it down, reaching for the feeling lurking just behind it: curiosity.
“I’m sorry if this is weird or rude, but…you were glowing during Elder Varron’s prayer earlier,” Oaklin ventured, hesitant but needing to know.
Lior was silent for a moment, gauging Oaklin’s reaction before replying.
“That happens sometimes. It’s a mark of the Three’s favor.
It usually only happens in private, though, when I pray each morning and receive the day’s magic.
I wonder every single day if I’m still using it in the way they would want me to, even though I’m far more of a librarian than a paladin these days, and I prefer it that way.
But they keep giving me spells and showing their favor, so… ”
Oaklin blinked in surprise. “Oh, so magic works completely differently for you. Do you mind if I ask how you became part of the church?”
Lior sighed quietly. “It was easy for me, in a way. I was taken in by the church as a child when my parents were killed in a raid on our town. Back when roving bandit gangs were the biggest threat in the Midlands instead of a murderous Enchantrix.”
Oaklin’s eyes went wide. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, you don’t have to—”
“No, it’s okay,” Lior said with a wave. “I was so little I barely remember them. The church is all I’ve known. They raised me, and I could have left anytime once I was grown enough to work, but I chose to stay. I genuinely loved—still love—the Three Above’s teachings about serving the community.”
“And then how…” Oaklin began, trailing off to find the question they actually wanted to ask. “How did you discover what your magic was meant for?”
Lior took a long drink before answering.
“If we show magical talent, they try to sort us into certain roles when we’re young. Healers, priests in training, community workers…” She shook her head. “I wasn’t good at any of it, though. Not like you and your nature magic.”
Oaklin sputtered. “Oh pshaw, I don’t know about—”
“Shush. Take the compliment,” Lior said, nudging Oaklin’s shoulder with her own.
“Anyway, I don’t mind admitting that I was a total terror as a kid.
Too much energy, too much fight, always climbing the walls, never wanted to listen to anything anyone had to say.
I was terrible in church services…but I loved the Three.
They were the only part of the church that ever made any sense to me, so I prayed to them to help me find my place.
That was when I first received my magic.
And when I first felt that pull to the sword. ”
Oaklin nodded up at the stars, remembering the way their magic had thrummed in contentment during their first mushroom forage, the way it always had during their youth.
Back then, they had been fiercely scolded for trying to “take the easy way out” by using magic on the farm—not that they remembered the spells themselves, only the echo of the harsh admonishments that had followed.
“It’s like someone grabbing you by the sleeve and saying, ‘Hey, over here!’” Oaklin said, their mind still partially in the hazy, half-remembered past.
Lior snapped her fingers. “Exactly. You get it. No one was pleased, but they weren’t going to question the will of the Three.
And there was no doubt that I’d found my talent.
I just felt those threads connecting block to strike to parry, and it felt natural to weave in the Three’s divine light and healing. It was honestly a relief.”
“Wow,” Oaklin said. “It seems like you’ve really found what your magic is meant for. That must feel great.”
Lior hesitated, studying Oaklin for a moment.
“Well…yes. But I do still wonder sometimes. Ultimately, I never had much choice, and I’m always subject to the will of the church leaders.
What would my life, my magic, be like if I served the Three Above outside of those confines?
If I decided for myself? It bothers me sometimes.
But never enough to leave and risk losing it all.
If carrying a sword is what it takes to serve the Three… ”
Lior stared up at the stars for a long moment before rolling her head to look at Oaklin again. “Do you feel like you’ve found what your magic is meant for?”
Oaklin closed their eyes and sank into their senses. Even two levels above the ground on the roof of a building, they felt the magic of the land singing on the wind. The whole place was alive, and it spoke to their heart in a way they’d never felt before.
It felt…right.
“I never expected it to work out this well when I moved here,” Oaklin began.
“I hoped, of course, but I was just”—running away from something was what they wanted to say—“trying something new and begging the gods for good luck,” they said instead.
“It really feels like this might be it. But it’s still new, and hard, and I just… ”
“Want to be sure. I get that,” Lior said. “But what about Mossley’s Rest? Are you happy here?”
Oaklin paused to give it real thought. In reality, they didn’t have anywhere else to go regardless. But even still…
“I think I am,” they said. “Whether farming is right for me or not, you, Ryn, and Jules—the whole community, really—you make this place worth it.”
Lior turned on her side to face Oaklin, smiling shyly. “Well, I’m really glad to hear that.”
As if carried by the momentum of the swelling feeling in their chest, Oaklin slid closer, turning to let their head rest against Lior’s arm.
After a moment, Lior shifted to pull Oaklin close with an arm around their shoulders, and their bodies pressed together from top to toe, snug and alive and comforting.
The moment glowed with warmth and potential.
Oaklin could reach up and kiss Lior. It would be so simple, barely a move at all. Their eyes met, and Lior’s lips parted with the faintest intake of breath.
And in the end, on a midsummer night like that, tinged with smoke and laughter and shared secrets, it was all too easy. The stars were beautiful and so was Lior, and Oaklin’s body felt alive with the energy in the air as they leaned up and covered Lior’s mouth with their own.
Lior exhaled hard, humming into the kiss like she’d been aching for it.
Oaklin broke away just long enough to see Lior’s smiling eyes, then dipped back in for another kiss, and another, drinking kisses like warm honey under the starry summer sky.
It began as a slow luxury, a plush and hazy moment of pleasure under the blanket of the warm night air—then Lior’s body shifted restlessly against Oaklin’s, and the feel of a hand brushing against their hip drove Oaklin forward, deepening the kiss.
A fire flickered to life low in their belly at the press of Lior’s hips against theirs, at the twining of their legs, and Oaklin grabbed a handful of belt to drag Lior on top of them—
A sudden shift in the festival noise broke through the fog of the kiss, raising the hair on the back of Oaklin’s neck.
The previously merry crowd had fallen into murmurs…
but then Lior let her full muscled weight settle down on top of them, pinning them to the rooftop, and all the sound in the world was washed away with a single groan from deep in Lior’s throat.
Oaklin let their legs fall open to cradle Lior’s hips, their mouth opening to her too, as—
Somewhere, far away, a voice boomed. Lior hesitated, but Oaklin ignored it in favor of hooking a leg around Lior’s and pulling her ever closer and capturing Lior’s mouth once again. More friction, more intensity, more—
Then the screaming started.
Oaklin and Lior pulled apart and locked eyes, startled, and then rushed to the edge of the rooftop to look out over the square. The glint of a waving sword, a flash of gold cape—and then a magically amplified booming voice.
“BY THE POWER OF THE THREE ABOVE, LET THE DEMON’S MINIONS BE REVEALED!”
A blast of light whited out Oaklin’s vision, and they ducked down behind the lip of the building, clutching the edge so tight they could feel the individual grains of the stone bite into their skin.
Their breath rushed from their chest and refused to return, like all the air in the world had gusted away, leaving their lungs burning, aching, seizing up.
The Inquisitor.
She had chosen this day on purpose. She had planned this attack to catch as many people with the spell as possible—a spell of revealing. A spell to mark the guilty.
If Oaklin hadn’t been up on a rooftop with Lior, they probably would have been down there, exposed.
Everyone would know what they were. They would be attacked, or run out of the village, or arrested—but no.
Thanks to Lior, they were safe. They slumped back against the wall behind them, shaking with relief from the near miss.
Then they caught a flash of red light.
Their hands.
They were glowing red.
“Oh gods, no,” Oaklin breathed.
“Oaklin?” Lior asked from somewhere behind them. “Are you—”
Eyes wide with horror, Oaklin shoved their hands into their pockets before Lior could see.
“I’m sorry,” they babbled. “I’m sorry, I have to go, I’ll—”
They never finished the sentence.
Instead, they ran.