Chapter 1 Elena #2
Sunlight streamed in through the expansive glass windows, casting a warm, ethereal glow upon the ornate furnishings—the plush velvet cushions adorning the wooden benches where the priests, the Sun Guardians, sat in rapt attention.
As I swept into the chamber, I scanned the faces of the assembled guardians, each one a familiar sight that I had come to know over the five decades of my service.
Aeldrin, the senior-most of the Guardians, rose to greet me, his once youthful features now marked by time.
Though his brow was furrowed with worry, his gaze held a steadfast determination that I had come to admire over the years. His brown skin was now lined and spotted with age, but I still remembered the bright-eyed, enthusiastic junior priest he’d been when I’d first met him twenty-five years before.
“High Priestess,” Aeldrin began now, his voice rich and resonant, “we have grave news to report.”
It always saddened me when Aeldrin called me by my title. When he was younger, just a novice priest, he’d treated me as a friend, as an equal, calling me by my name.
If I closed my eyes, I could still recall his youthful voice chirping at me: Elena, have you eaten? Elena, let’s study together in the library. Elena…Elena…
Now, that boy was fifty-five, and he called me ‘High Priestess’, as befitted the senior most Guardian.
I nodded solemnly, gesturing for him to continue. What was it this time? A plague? A drought?
We had thrived under the protection of the Sun God for nearly a century, its people living in peace and prosperity. That didn’t mean that we had never faced problems, though.
I suppressed a shudder as I recalled the last plague to affect Solaris.
It struck twenty-three years ago — a cruel winter plague, unnamed by healers, untouched by potions.
It crawled through the mountain air and stole breath before sun-up.
Entire households lost in a single week. I could not heal them all. I tried.
I nearly burned myself hollow doing so.
The Temple vaults had held lines of the dying. Men with bloodied handkerchiefs, women coughing themselves into unconsciousness, children—gods, the children. I had walked among them until I collapsed from exhaustion, and still they died.
Only when I gave my own blood—phoenix blood, offered willingly in a desperate ritual that left me insensate for two days—did the tide turn. The Sun God answered. He always did.
But I still saw their faces.
I still knew their names.
Their bones were dust now. The plague was long past. And yet it lived inside me, that season of helplessness.
Next, I remembered the drought.
Not the current one. An older one—thirty years ago, before the portal was opened and trade eased our hunger. The wells went dry. The mountain’s icy runoff slowed to a trickle. Even the high cisterns, enchanted centuries ago, had run low.
We had had five days of rationed water. No more.
I’d stood on the city’s highest peak, arms outstretched, robes soaked in oil, the fire of the sun scorching my skin as I summoned rain from the heavens—pulling moisture from the air, sweat from my own pores, anything to coax the clouds into tears.
The people wept when it came. They thought it was a miracle.
They didn’t know I’d nearly died to do it.
And then there were the wars.
The city of Solaris sat atop a plateau on the tallest mountain in the Osomeda mountain range, situated smack dab in the middle of the border between Telluria and the eastern reaches of Drakazov, two countries that had a history of warring with each other.
Forty years ago, when I was still new to my role as High Priestess and Solaris was still just a tiny hamlet, the army of the Tellurian king had attacked us, determined to seize the natural riches of the mountain where we had made our home.
They’d wanted our ores, our mines, but instead, they’d found resistance.
They’d tried to drive us out by the sword, but the people of my city had stood with me, and we had managed to drive off the Tellurians, instead.
And now—here I was.
Dozens of years later. Countless prayers answered. Thousands of lives saved.
And still... I felt the strain in my soul.
The strain of all those wars, all those skirmishes.
All those lives lost.
I’d sworn it would never happen again. Not on my watch.
Since then, we’d become stronger. I’d built up the priests of the Sun God into formidable warrior priests who would protect the city and its way of life: the Sun Paladins.
Solaris had grown into a thriving city, and if anyone came for us, they would find we were no longer an easy target.
Now, most of our problems were internal . The guilds in the city jockeyed for power, the mayor changed every five years, taxes went up and down, the people grumbled and the economy ebbed and flowed.
The best of the recent developments—well, I say recent, but it was twenty years ago—was when one of the mages in the city had developed a portal spell that let our people easily trade with the Four Kingdoms and the lands beyond our mountains, without risking our safety.
In the past decade, Solaris had been seeing an unprecedented time of peace and plenty.
But now, it seemed, there was cause for worry.
“We have received troubling news from the outer districts,” Aeldrin said now. “The rains have been bad this year, as you know. There have been reports of food shortages, and the people are growing restless.”
I nodded solemnly, my gaze sweeping across the assembled priests. “I see. And what is being done to help them?”
“We are opening the Temple’s stores for the needy,” said Willem, “and we’ve written to the headman in each district, asking for a representative to visit us to take what they need back to their homes.
” As the other priests murmured in response, he went pink, but persisted, raising his voice so that I may hear him.
“And we are working with the affected districts to remedy the solution.”
I turned to my scribe Nekir, who was sitting at a stool at my side, a quill and a notebook in hand. “Find out if the drought is magical in nature, if it is bad luck, or bad planning. We will have to take different approaches to each one.”
Nekir nodded, and set to scribbling, as another priest spoke up.
“There is a problem with the young ones, my lady.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what of the young ones?”
“They wish to leave Solaris, to explore the world beyond.”
I frowned, sitting forward to stare more carefully at the man. “What of it? Let them go.”
“My lady, it is not so simple, we have your safety to think of—”
The priest coughed off the end of his sentence when Aeldrin glared at him.
“What is wrong with the young ones’ desires to venture beyond our walls?” I asked, looking around at the priests.
Aeldrin sighed and exchanged a troubled glance with his fellow guardians.
“That is a matter we must discuss with the Elders, my lady. Many of the youths have been petitioning to be allowed passage through the portals, to explore the world beyond our hidden city. But the Elders are adamant that we must keep your existence a secret, lest the kingdoms beyond discover your true nature, our High Priestess.” He sighed.
“Imagine if any of the surrounding kingdoms were to learn of your immortality—”
I winced. I knew what would happen then. I would be taken from Solaris by force, pressed into the service of some king as his immortal assassin, or taken apart in some mage’s lab to study the magic that made me immortal.
The Elders had warned me of it many times.
I was too valuable to Solaris. The people couldn’t afford to lose me.
And so, the Elders had decreed that our city and our people—and me—would remain hidden behind the wards that protected us, with only a few carefully chosen merchants passing through the portals to trade with the world beyond.
I suppressed a sigh, my fingers drumming lightly against the arm of my throne.
The Elders were a council of old men who ruled over Solaris, overseeing the city, the guilds, the farms, the trades—even the Temple.
But I remembered when these same old men had been young and reckless themselves. Even if they had grown old and fearful, I remembered what it was like to crave adventure.
“The young ones should not be denied their freedom, Aeldrin. They have lived their entire lives within the walls of this city, content to worship the Sun God and bask in my protection. Surely, they deserve a chance to explore the world beyond, to see if they would like to remain in Solaris or experience a different life.”
Aeldrin's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to protest, but I raised my hand, silencing him.
“I understand the Elders’ concerns,” I continued, my voice soft yet firm.
“But we cannot keep our people confined within these walls forever. They must be allowed to spread their wings and explore, to discover the wonders that the world has to offer.” I shrugged.
“I shall be safe enough; I am sure no one will leak any information about me beyond our city. I trust all my people.”
The guardians exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions torn between loyalty to the Elders and a desire to heed my wishes. I sighed at their reluctance. “I will speak to the Elders myself during our meeting later,” I said, and that seemed to mollify them somewhat.
Aeldrin cleared his throat. “There is...one more matter, my lady,” he said, his voice tinged with unease. “Some of the orphans and homeless have gone missing from the outer districts.”
I felt a chill run down my spine; my heart momentarily constricted with worry. “Missing?” I echoed, my brow furrowing. “How long have they been gone?”
“Each of them has been missing several days, my lady,” Aeldrin replied, his gaze meeting mine with a somber expression. “The earliest disappearance was nearly three months ago. We have sent search parties, but thus far, they have found no trace of the missing individuals.”
“And what do you think happened to them?”