Chapter 9 Elena
As dawn broke, Dario melted back into the shadows of his forest, but the echo of his voice remained.
Go down there.
I did.
Each step closer sharpened an old, guilty memory: the Elders in their mahogany chairs, the way Kathar smiled too easily when I questioned relief shipments, the way plans could be folded like maps and filed away.
I had asked then and been told to trust them, to leave administrative cares to those trained for them.
Even before the lane bent to reveal the first houses, I could taste the drought—metallic on the tongue, thick as unboiled tea.
A woman stood outside a house with a broom, watching the sun rise with tired eyes. Her gaze found me when I passed.
“High Priestess,” she said. She had not the strength even to bring her hands together for blessing. Her son sat beside her, ribs too visible.
My heart clenched. I stepped forward without thinking and laid my palm on his forehead. Heat flared from somewhere deep, the old connected magic answering in faint throbs. The boy’s skin warmed by a fraction, the fever receding from his face.
My throat closed. “We collected relief grain,” I said aloud even though I knew it was futile to ask her. “Why was it not sent here?”
The woman shrugged. “They’ve sent all they can, they say. The roads are dangerous. The caravans were raided. Trade has faltered.”
The words nearly sent me staggering back. This village had been fed a lie: trade with our neighboring countries was better than before.
The Elders had lied; they had offered no help to this village.
I moved deeper into the village, my heart sinking further with each step.
The house which had been marked by the mage was still dark, like many others in the village. Even to my eyes, the sigil glowed only faintly, giving off a little shimmer in the rising sun.
To the villagers, it would be completely invisible.
Who lived inside? Why were they of interest to a mage?
And why was he wearing the robes of the Temple?
“Water?”
I turned, startled.
A girl stood at a water trough with a bucket. The trough gave only a whisper of water, algae and sediment clinging to the sides. The girl stared at me, her gaze going to my staff and my robes, eyes wide and pleading.
I knelt. “We will see.” The words felt like a thin promise, but I meant them. I placed both hands on the trough’s lip and called soft words—old words, the ones the Temple keeps for wells and weather.
Heat gathered at my sternum, and for a moment, the water shimmered like struck metal. The trough breathed shallowly and then expelled a thin, steady line of clear water.
The girl laughed and placed her bucket under the stream. “Thank you, priestess!” She turned to joyfully shout the news to the others in the village, her joy contagious.
As I turned to walk away, the girl called after me.
“Come back again, priestess!”
“I will,” I said. The vow tasted of iron.
As I walked back to my temple, I thought of the council chamber with its perfumed incense and polite smiles. I thought of Kathar’s voice, honeyed and slippery.
My stomach trembled with the knowledge that accusing the Elders would be like ripping a living seam open: messy, necessary, and impossible to sew back.
But it had to be done.
~
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as I approached the outskirts of Solaris, casting long shadows over the golden plains that stretched beyond the city walls.
They called it the City of Light. The phrase had comforted me when I was younger, when I still believed a place could be made whole by a single, steady flame. The Temple’s domes glittered in the low sun.
I had built wards to bind this city to secrecy—my own hands, my own magic entwined with stone—so the kingdoms beyond would not take our mountain, so merchants might not use our portals to bring us ruin. I had been proud of that work, and I had convinced myself that safety required sacrifice.
Now the truth I’d seen in the village followed me like an aftertaste.
A soft breeze stirred the dry grasses, carrying with it the scent of earth and dust, tinged with the faint, bittersweet aroma of wildflowers that clung to the dying light.
I pulled the hood of my cloak closer, letting the enchanted fabric fall around me, using my magic to shroud myself in a veil that rendered me almost invisible to any passerby.
It was strange, hiding myself like this, slipping through the edges of my own city as though I were a stranger, an intruder in the place I had once called home.
The journey back had been long and quiet, my mind racing with every step, filled with questions and uncertainties that I had hoped would unravel as I neared Solaris.
I shook my head, pushing my thoughts aside.
No, Dario was wrong . The Elders were trustworthy. Maybe there were one or two bad apples in the bunch, but they were not all bad.
I would question them all, and I would prove the Shadow King wrong.
When I finally reached the temple grounds, the atmosphere was one of barely contained chaos. Sun Paladins moved hurriedly across the courtyard, their voices hushed but strained, carrying an edge of urgency that sent a ripple of tension through the air.
The courtyard smelled of incense and sweat, of oil on mail. Paladins moved in tight knots; some limped while others carried sling-wrapped arms. All of them were the men who had accompanied me to the Forest of Night’s Bane.
It seemed Dario had not lied about sparing the paladins.
I slipped behind a marble column, watching from the shadows as they gathered in clusters, speaking in low, anxious tones.
“The High Priestess has been missing for a full day now,” I heard one of them say, his voice laced with worry. “If she’s truly in danger, we must act swiftly.”
Another paladin, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a grim expression, shook his head. “Leonidas has sent scouts to the forest’s edge, but there’s been no sign of her or… the Shadow King.”
At the mention of Dario, a pang of guilt shot through me. They believed I had been taken, that I was in peril, and yet here I was, creeping back under the cover of darkness, hiding from the very people who had sworn to protect me.
I took a steadying breath, and with a final tug at my hood, I stepped into the courtyard, letting my magic fall away as I moved into the open.
There was a collective intake of breath as the paladins turned to see me, their eyes widening in shock, their expressions shifting from disbelief to relief.
“Elena!” It was Aeldrin who reached me first, the lines of age around his eyes deeper than they’d been when I’d last seen him.
“Thank the Sun God!” he said, drawing close to me as if he wanted to pull me into a hug, before he stopped, as if he remembered our audience.
He drew back, but caught my hand in his, squeezing tight.
“We feared the worst…” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. “Where have you been, High Priestess?”
Leonidas was on his heels, his face bruised, and a deep cut over one eye.
“Where did you go?” he demanded, the cut over his brow an ugly, flaring red.
He had always stormed chest-first into danger; the wound suited him, like a badge of honor.
A dozen other paladins closed ranks behind him, eyes fierce, voices low with questions they dared not ask in open council.
I let them have their relief. They had bled; they had been wounded. “I’m all right,” I replied, my voice steady but soft, carrying just enough weariness to support the story I was about to weave. “I’ve been… handling matters in the forest.”
A ripple of curiosity passed through the gathered paladins and guardian priests, their eyes filled with questions. Aeldrin’s brow furrowed, while Leonidas frowned, his expression a mix of relief and disbelief.
“Did you… face the Shadow King?”
I hesitated. “Yes,” I said. “He will not bother us now.”
I took a deep breath, hoping Dario would not make a liar out of me.
A murmur of approval swept through the group, their relief palpable, though there was a flicker of disappointment in Leonidas’s gaze. He wanted Dario gone, defeated, erased from our lives entirely.
But this was all I could give them—a half-truth that would keep Dario safe, at least for now.
One of the younger paladins, his expression filled with a fierce admiration, stepped forward, his eyes shining with a fervent respect.
“You fought him alone, High Priestess?” he asked, his voice filled with awe. “Truly, you are the Sun’s chosen.”
I forced a smile, nodding slightly, though the praise felt hollow, undeserved. It was true that I had faced Dario, but I had not fought him.
“Many of our brave paladins fought and suffered to aid me,” I said, bowing my head. “The Sun God’s light guided me,” I continued, my voice calm, steady, despite the thumping of my heart. “But the Shadow King is only… contained. Not defeated. We must stay vigilant.”
Relief bred less cleanly than I supposed.
The paladins’ faces held small betrayals: the weariness of men who had seen too much, held too little.
An older man, a gaunt figure with a scar across his mouth, sat on the stone steps nursing a bandaged shoulder.
One of the younger guardians tried to push his helmet back into place, but his hands trembled.
Leonidas caught that motion and hid it with a laugh that wasn’t honest.
Aeldrin squeezed my hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring.
“We are grateful for your courage, High Priestess. And the wounded are being healed. We were prepared to do whatever was necessary to ensure your safety.” His gaze softened, a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“B0.ut you must rest now. You look… exhausted.”
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you, Aeldrin. I will take your advice.”
With a final nod to the gathered paladins, I turned and made my way into the temple, feeling the weight of every lie, every half-truth pressing down on me.
I excused myself to my chambers on the pretext of rest.