Chapter 6 #2
“Well, well, if it isn't the Hallowed herself, deigning to grace us with her presence,” he said, his red hair glowing like embers in the late afternoon sun. “Shouldn't you be busy kneeling at some altar, acting the pious maiden?”
Acting?
Elara's gaze snapped to Dario, finding his expression murderous.
No, he wouldn’t have said anything. He understood all too well how dangerous it would be if it slipped out they had been together. Dangerous for them both.
Elara fixed the guard with a cold sneer. “Aren’t you overdue at some brothel, Lorien? Or have you already contracted every disease they offer?”
It was bold, even for her, but at the moment, her patience for his antics was hanging by a thread.
The red of Lorien's hair seemed to bleed into his features, his knuckles turning white as he jabbed a finger toward her. “You bitc—”
A crow, black as the midnight sky, swooped down with a raucous caw, snapping its sharp beak at his pointing finger.
Lorien jerked back, his hand coming away stained red, vibrant against his pale skin. He spat a string of curses as the crow flew away. He ripped his sword from its sheath and hurled it in a blind arc, striking the wooden rack with a resounding thwack.
He didn’t look back, didn’t see his sword trembling in the rack like a spent arrow. Lorien turned on his heel—a storm of red—and stalked away.
Elara's heart raced. Edgar's ravens were silent collectors of secrets, their keen eyes always watching, gathering information to carry back to him.
They never interfered. So why did this bird seem almost..
. protective of her? She stared, holding her breath, as the bird soared toward the clock tower, perching high above before turning to fix its piercing gaze on her.
A chill raced down her spine.
“That was unusual.”
Elara blinked, almost forgetting Avis was beside her. “I thought the little things hated me.”
Avis tilted her head, thoughtful. “Oh, they don’t hate anyone. Ravens are clever, you know. They can solve puzzles, mimic voices. Maybe this one’s picked up something new about you.”
Elara started to glance back at the bird but found herself looking at Dario instead.
He was watching the raven too, eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern—or was it fear?
—crossing his face. She could almost see the gears turning.
But then, a shout from one of his comrades pulled his attention away.
He threw her a quick, unreadable look before disappearing back into the fray of training.
A quiet throat-clearing beside her made her flinch, her gaze snapping away from Dario’s retreating figure.
Petr, one of her personal guards, had somehow slipped up beside her without her noticing. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his face impassive as ever. But she knew he’d been watching her this whole time.
“The High Priest requests your presence for dinner tonight.”
Elara sighed, closing her eyes. Of course he did. He would want to talk about the capital, about everything that had gone wrong. Her hands tightened around the basket. She wasn’t ready for that conversation—wasn’t ready to relive it all again.
She lifted her gaze to find Avis watching her, brow furrowed.
“It’s just dinner,” Avis said softly.
“I know,” she replied, lips pressing into a tight line.
“You’ve been through worse.”
Elara exhaled a quiet laugh, nodding. “I have.”
Without another word, Avis leaned in, kissing her cheek before taking the basket from her hands. “I’ll meet you after. We can finish the book.”
Elara nodded, but the heaviness in her chest remained.
Petr led her through the courtyard, passing through a wide stone archway and into the citadel’s dim corridors.
Torches burned along the walls, their glow barely cutting through the thick air, making the stone walls feel as if they were closing in.
Each hall branched off into smaller passageways leading to the Druids’ living quarters, simple doors spaced evenly along the stone walls, each marked with hand-carved symbols that represented the room’s occupant.
The air smelled faintly of herbs and smoke, the remnants of past rituals lingering in the stone itself.
Petr didn’t say a word as he led her deeper, past rows of high, arched windows that overlooked the training yard below.
Finally, they stopped at her door—a heavy oak slab with faint runes etched along its edges.
He pushed it open, gave her a curt nod, and turned back toward the courtyard, leaving her in silence.
Soft evening light spilled through her room, her sheer curtains swaying gently in the breeze that carried hints of salt and jasmine. It brushed against the hanging bunch of dried flowers above her chipped dresser, a piece that somehow still held together after all these years.
Her room—if she could call it that—was small, but the pale walls and sparse furnishings tricked the eye, making it seem bigger than it was.
Beyond the window, the Jade Sea murmured, its rhythmic waves lulling her toward a yawn, but a bath was already waiting, steam curling from the tub in delicate wisps.
Elara sighed, peeling off her sweaty dress, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin.
She slipped into the bath, grateful that the water wasn’t scalding, just warm enough to soothe the ache in her muscles.
She grabbed the bar of oatmeal and lavender soap, scrubbing at her skin until it felt raw.
The scent rose with the steam, soothing in a way that did little to reach the ache sitting deep in her chest. She ducked her head under the water, working her fingers through her hair, pulling out the stray leaves that inevitably found their way into her curls whenever she foraged.
Stepping out of the tub, she barely bothered to dry off, pulling her linen robe over her wet skin. The fabric clung to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Exhaustion weighed on her, heavy and hollow. Water pooled at her feet.
She drifted to her dresser, reaching for her brush, fingers moving automatically as she started to untangle her hair.
Her gaze fell to the small collection of pebbles she kept there.
Each one held a unique tone, from the deep, soothing hum of a smooth river rock to the soft, light tinkle of a tiny quartz pebble.
Precious stones were more than just beautiful; they held deep significance and power.
Every caster had a stone that connected them to their elemental prowess.
Jasper for those who commanded the earth, sunstone ablaze for the fire wielders, quartz, light and airy, for those who danced with the winds, and amethyst, deep like the waters they controlled.
Bonding with an element wasn’t just an honor; it was a trial by fire.
The four stones—jasper, sunstone, quartz, and amethyst—were awarded only to those who endured the grueling process and emerged victorious.
The regimen of rigorous training, fasting, and meditation purged both body and spirit.
Only after this cleansing could one partake in the Convergence Ceremony, presided over annually by Osin in the heart of the capital.
There, the worthy were given the choice to bond with a single element, forging a deep connection to either earth, fire, wind, or water through their chosen stone.
They would mingle a drop of their blood with a drop of Elara's, carefully placing the mixture on a stone set upon the altar.
The ether in her blood acted as a bridge, linking the caster's life force with their chosen element.
But the bond was far from guaranteed. The element had to choose the caster in return, an acceptance that was as unpredictable as the elements themselves.
Most Druids in the Sanct were bonded to an element, but Avis, among a scattered few, was not.
She had failed the Convergence, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Some Druids believed that one only needed the sun to summon a bit of ether.
And so, Avis would sing to the sun—and sometimes, she said, it would listen.
Elara had witnessed just one Convergence Ceremony in her lifetime—the inaugural one following her arrival to the realm.
Osin had been the first to step forward, and everything about it had been a catastrophe.
He hadn't prepared, no fasting, no training, which the Druids later realized were crucial for bonding properly with an element.
When he mixed a drop of his blood with hers, carefully placing it on a stone at the altar, the ritual didn't connect him to an element as intended.
Instead, it devoured his life force, dragging him into the Void.
He had clawed his way back, but he was forever changed, bound to its shadows.
Since that day, no other aspirant who attempted to bond with ether—or any element—had been sucked into the Void like Osin had.
No one could explain why it had happened to him; there were theories, of course, endless whispers and speculations.
But what everyone knew for certain was that Osin stood unmatched as the most formidable caster of their age.
She traced the stones with her fingers, careful not to topple them, finding a strange sense of calm in their subtle lines and divots. These stones were devoid of ether, yet they were anything but empty. They sang to her, as all stones did—a soft, continuous melody.
Reluctantly, Elara withdrew her hand. She would never be permitted to attempt a Convergence; her role was to aid.
Heal and restore. Give and consecrate.
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Give and give and give until there was nothing left of her. That was her purpose.
The harsh cry of a raven drew her attention from the stones to the window. There, perched on the sill, was the same raven that had bitten Lorien.
“Tell your master I will join him shortly,” she drawled.
The bird’s reply was a more demanding squawk.
Elara sighed deeply. Even when promised moments of privacy in her room, she never truly had them. It was always something—the ravens, the guards, or—
A knock echoed from her door.
She sighed again. Or Beatrice.