Chapter 31
Eldric
H e knew something was coming from the shiftiness of the guards and how his cell had been scrubbed to remove the grime. After weeks of brewing in his own filth, he was finally given a rag and bucket of water to clean with. It was no surprise when the Archcleric glided in on soft, floating steps in their usual flowing garb, somehow glowing even within the dim dungeon light.
He didn’t say a word. With daggers in his eyes and burning hatred in his heart, he fixated his gaze on the archcleric from the corner. The strings that pulled every mysterious fire and sudden illness he’d investigated tied right back to the person before him.
The archcleric’s hands were clasped primly in front of them, looking down their straight nose that matched the angular planes of their face. Pale hair and eyes that he now realized were a sign of the magical power leaching into them, making the person into a conduit. Eldric wondered what parts of themselves they had lost in exchange. If Lorali could ever recover herself.
“Who are your conspirators?” the archcleric finally asked, breaking the silence. It was clear from their icy glare that they were a person who was not used to being ignored.
Eldric chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
The corner of Sage’s mouth ticked upwards at his reply. “Yes, that is why I’m asking.”
“I’ll tell you exactly what I told the guards.” He leveled a stare at the cause of so much pain within the city. He leaned in close, placing emphasis on each word. “No one.”
“It’s a shame that your arrogance will be the downfall of such a bright star when all this could be avoided. As your bonded, High Cleric Wynmar will have to suffer your fate.” Sage tsked, shaking their head.
Eldric stiffened at the tone in their voice, the gleam in their eye that made him pay attention.
“To enter a gallows marriage is to entrust your life to the other. A promise before the gods to forfeit your life if you fail to reform your partner. There is no avoiding this; there is no saving her.” The words were acid, burning Eldric’s throat as he spoke.
“You’re right—she is the one who chose to save you, promised to reform and reintegrate you into society. You are her responsibility. A responsibility she failed.”
Lorali had done anything but fail him. She was his reason—beginning to end. It had started with her, before they even knew it. And she had saved him, changed him for the better. The thought of him pulling her brightness from the weave of stars in the sky was soul crushing. He couldn’t blame her for turning in the incriminating evidence she had found—it was her job to protect the faith. It was her duty to report. He had been careless enough to get caught. Arrogance indeed.
“There is no one else,” Eldric repeated, forearms resting upon his knees as he attempted to temper his rage before rising to stride toward the archcleric.
“I have been trying to root out this corruption for years, and I finally found the evidence I needed. Right beneath my nose,” he sneered, grabbing the cell bars as he spun the story to pin all of the blame upon himself. “Do you remember me? That night in the rain when a young guardsman brought a little girl to you, having no clue that you were the one who orchestrated everything.”
Unfazed, Archcleric Sage continued to wear their maddeningly impassive expression as if nothing had been said at all. “You and High Cleric Wynmar will be hung at the gallows together at nightfall at the end of the Veridian celebrations. A truly fitting end to your shared story, don’t you think?”
Eldric knew the archcleric was bluffing. Trying to sink beneath his flesh, a splinter wedged just enough to spur him into talking when there was something he knew that could save her. The archcleric had done too much work, pulling innumerable strings to place Lorali at the precipice of power only to let her fall short. Had to know something he didn’t. But a deep, paranoid part of Eldric knew that if he called this wrong, it wasn’t just his life at stake—it was hers. Sage knew that Eldric would do anything to avoid her sharing his fate and he hated it. He hated even more that it worked.
“Lorali knew nothing,” he rasped. “I used her connection to the Order to further my plans without her knowledge.”
“I know.” Their expression softened with a mix of sadness and disdain. As if Lorali’s pain and betrayal were their own. “I’ve never seen such despair within her before. It has left her hollow.”
Guilt curdled in his gut and Eldric looked away from their scrutinizing gaze .
“What would save her?” Eldric asked. “I know there is something or else you wouldn’t be here. I will do anything.”
And he would. He meant anything and more. If there was one last thing he could do to save her, he would lay himself upon the sacrificial altar if it meant she could live one day more.
“Severing the bond.”
Eldric couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him. He didn’t know much about the realm of gods and magic, but he knew that it couldn’t just be undone. Had learned that himself just a few weeks ago when Ostara herself denied him.
“That can’t be done.” His brows knit together as he watched the archcleric’s expression, surprised when the corner of their mouth ticked upwards into a smirk.
“But can’t it?”
Eldric’s heart stuttered, nearly stopped. They were serious.
“What do you know?”
“The god that bound you can sever it by claiming your soul. Your soul will be lost within the twilight for eternity, but she, as the petitioner, will be spared. ”
As if the mere mention of the god was a summons, an icy breeze drafted through the cell, making Eldric clench his teeth as his fingers gripped the metal bars, leaning in.
“Then my soul be damned. It is hers anyways.”
Sage raised their brows, but nodded.
“I will begin to make the necessary arrangements.”
When Eldric didn’t respond, Sage made to leave, but glanced back over their shoulder. Disdain was painted across their features as they looked at the criminal within its cage, an animal awaiting its execution.
“You did not deserve her.”
They said nothing else as they walked out of the dungeon. Eldric’s words echoed into the empty, dank cell. Unheard, but true.
“ Nor did you. ”