Chapter 27 #5
I glanced over my shoulder. Jorius walked steadily behind us, carrying my satchels.
His eyes met mine but he turned away instantly.
A crease formed between my brows. He was avoiding me.
Rhenik walked beside him with a nonchalant air, while Ilyth and Kharos followed at the rear of the procession as we moved through the streets.
Eventually we stopped before the towering temple doors, and the memory of my piercing ritual surfaced unbidden.
I had been only four when I last stepped through them, and they seemed no smaller now.
White marble rose around us in sweeping, moonlike arches traced with gold, the surface pale and luminous beneath the night sky, while saber statues stood guard on either side, carved in poised stillness.
When the doors opened, cool air spilled outward, scented with incense.
Inside, the space soared upward into a domed ceiling washed in silver light, and at its heart stood Lunara, serene and unmoving, a crescent moon lifted in one outstretched hand and a golden sun resting in the other, as though she weighed both in balance while we stepped forward beneath her gaze.
Shallow pools lined the length of the entrance hall, candles drifting across their surfaces and casting trembling reflections along the marble as they guided us toward another set of ornate doors at the far end.
Priests emerged from a side chamber, their garments regal and sheer, silver-threaded and fluid in the dim light.
I glanced at Vayren, but he stood intent upon Lunara’s statue, a faint frown shadowing his expression.
The air carried a warm, familiar scent, stirring a memory that hovered just beyond reach. I frowned, unsettled by it.
“You are allowed no further,” the priests told the guards in low, lyrical voices, and the men halted without protest. The atmosphere shifted as we moved deeper, the scent and silence wrapping around me until the temple felt almost enchanted, not unlike the Bondward Shrine in the Lornwild.
When the inner doors opened, moonlight poured into the chamber beyond. We stepped forward, but before crossing the threshold a priest spoke firmly, “Remove your footwear, please.”
Vayren bent to unfasten his armored boots, and as I moved to slip my sandals from my feet, he turned toward me instead.
His fingers closed around my ankle, his thumb grazing the curve of my calf as his eyes lifted to mine.
Without breaking that gaze, he eased the sandal free, then the other, his hand sliding upward along my leg as he rose from his kneel, stroking my skin in an unhurried line that left heat sparking in its wake.
I swallowed as he straightened before me.
Only then did the priests step aside, allowing us entry.
Grass covered the floor within, white and violet flowers woven through it in abundance.
Above us, a vast circular opening cut into the marble ceiling allowed the moonlight to fall directly upon a raised stone plateau at the center of the room.
The doors closed behind us, and the priests motioned for us to ascend.
Vayren stepped up first. I hesitated only a moment before he reached for me, his hands firm at my waist as he lifted me effortlessly onto the stone and set me before him, the warmth of his touch seeping through the silk against my skin.
His hands lingered there a breath longer than necessary before he unclasped the cloak fastened over my dress at my wrists and removed the golden rings from my arms, letting them fall to the marble below.
A tremor of nerves moved through me. This felt more intimate than anything I’d known.
He brushed my hair back from my shoulders, then removed the pins at my collar, discarding them as he drew the cloak from me, the silver fabric slipping to pool at my feet. I stepped out of it, lowering my gaze as the moonlight laid my body bare beneath the sheer silver dress.
His eyes told me he found me beautiful as his fingers found my chin and lifted it. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. “The ritual won’t hurt you. I will guide you.”
I nodded, letting the weight of the moment give way to his steadiness as I surrendered control without resistance.
“Warrior,” one of the priests addressed Vayren as she stepped before the plateau, “kneel.”
He obeyed, lowering to one knee without protest. The other priests moved in fluid coordination, circling the chamber as they released incense into the air.
The scent deepened, warm and familiar again, though I couldn’t name it, the Imperator had smelled the same.
As the smoke thickened, my breathing slowed and deepened with it, the walls seeming to press inward as the haze settled into my lungs.
“Vayren,” I whispered, clutching my head as a wave of dizziness passed through me, “I feel faint.”
“It’s part of the ritual,” he replied steadily. “You will lose consciousness, but you will rise stronger. Keep your eyes on me.”
I nodded and did as he instructed. The priest before us produced a small vial and placed it in Vayren’s hand. A plum-colored liquid glinted within. He drank half without hesitation, then handed it to me with a brief nod.
I accepted it, unsettled by the familiarity of the motion and the liquid.
My piercing flared cold as if in warning, but I drank the remainder, ignoring the feeling.
The taste was bitter, blooming across my tongue before sinking cold into my stomach.
A chill spread through my limbs. My strength ebbed with each breath, and I leaned forward, bracing myself against Vayren’s shoulders as his head inclined toward my abdomen, his forehead resting against me.