The intensely dark eyes gave me an icy glare, filled with equal amounts of aversion and contempt.

“What are you doing here?”

His thunderous voice echoed throughout the hall. With their prayers interrupted, devotees turned to us, the air stirring with bewilderment and fear. Those remaining with their hands clasped gave us a quick glance before facing away, their eyes closed or gaze lowered.

I, however, couldn’t afford to give them much notice.

“I am here to see the High Priestess,” I announced to the man in front of me.

“Do not demand too much. Anyone should do.”

With elegantly slender fingers, the priest pulled the hood of his red and gold robe back. This action revealed quite the handsome features. His dark skin gorgeously accentuated the whites in his eyes, making his eyes an even deeper dark. His hair looked as precious as black silk. Two thin braids reached down to his chest, framing his tender facial features with the, oh, so unwelcoming expression. The reflection of the flickering candlelight twinkled in his eyes, so deep one could surely drown in them, yet giving them no warmth.

“Such as myself.”

“You have my deepest apologies, Priest — I must have been too obscure or hushed. I am here upon request to converse with the High Priestess, Ci’dedel.”

The priest clicked his tongue. A couple of wrinkles of dismay appeared on the bridge of his nose, otherwise elegant and as perfectly symmetric as any Master sculptor could have made it.

“You think your sort can simply step wherever you desire and act however you wish. I will, however, let the High Priestess know you have come to speak with her. Yet, I question whether she would concern herself with what one of your sort may have to say. I should do for any errands of yours.”

I smiled with confidence. His expression turned tense in return.

She’ll ask for me. You’ll see.

“Priest, I humbly request you to tell the High Priestess that I have come from the Southern Principality. I believe she will be in quite a haste to speak with me.”

The wrinkles increased, travelling up to become a frown as his glare intensified before the man sharply turned to leave. He walked with a light step, much unlike the voice that had echoed through the domed space. I heard nothing but his floor-length red garments brushing against the stone floor, and the quiet murmur of the devotees.

I restrained the urge to follow him through the hall — with equally light steps, yet quieter — that rose within me.

Without turning my head, I looked around at the dimly candlelit hall. A single beam of sunlight coloured the innermost part of the hall’s domed ceiling a gentle rosy yellow. I couldn’t see the unfamiliar images from the Scriptures painted within the dome itself. From which I couldn’t say, though merely a handful of passages suited the location I visited.

A rather young apprentice, clad in dark robes, lit incense by the entrance to bring the devotees who entered and left the calm of the God’s blessing. The moment the calming scent reached me, the Priest returned. When he harshly glanced at the apprentice, the youth’s eyes widened. The steps of the fleeing young mage didn’t quite echo in the otherwise silent hall. Devotees looked up once again.

“The High Priestess has been benevolent, and has agreed to meet you, esteemed traveller,” he told me dryly, now barely a whisper.

The wintry smile, combined with how the candlelight drowned in his eyes, gave him less warmth than previously. Yet, I couldn’t find a single fault in his face.

“Pray come with me.”

He turned, and he left with hurried, but barely audible, steps. I followed him into the living quarters of the clergy. The setting sun warmed the white stone through the windows as we stepped into the corridors.

Apprentices and disciples alike looked away, lowering their heads as we walked past them. The curious tried to steal glances, as if I wouldn’t notice despite it being my face and attire they so quickly tried to look at.

We arrived at an exquisitely ornate wooden door, and the priest knocked softly. We stepped into a room coloured a warm pink by the sunset. A woman, with soft red locks and a smile so serene she could have been the mother of everything in existence, turned to us. She barely gave me a nod when I gave her a bow of respect.

“You may leave.”

The woman sitting in a chair turned her green eyes toward the priest, who silently gave her a slight bow, before he turned around to leave, not without giving me another glare.

Her perfected beauty radiated tranquillity as if formed by the God’s hand, yet she was not without freckles covering her fair skin. Her expression was one that showed no concerns of the mortal world.

She was the very image of a high priestess — a person close to the God.

Moments passed before I closed the door. I let the Priest return to his duties so as not to overhear. I turned back to the High Priestess, Ci’dedel, my expression void of any emotion.

“I would offer you a seat, but considering you are what you are, I will not.” She smiled at me, her voice silken, with no hint of ill will.

Had I been younger, I may have smiled back at her, feeling the warmth she offered in my heart, happy to receive such grace. However, I had already seen much and instead I stood straighter, making myself taller, giving her no reason to question any emotion.

After all, I had none to give.

“Certainly you knew I expected as much, High Priestess. As you may already be aware, the Southern Principality has sent me to you.”

“I presume you’ve come about it then?”

Out of a pocket within my cloak, I took out a small package and a scroll. The package looked modest, but the sealed scroll bore the sigil of the House of Tuqem’hok, the royal house of the Principality. With a slight bow, I held them out to her. She took them both from me and put the package on the table by her lavishly decorated wooden chair. The carvings didn’t pale in the least to the door of her private room.

With much care, she broke the seal of the scroll. She read it in silence before she confirmed she understood its contents, with no more than a slight nod. An orange glow reminiscent of ember surrounded her index finger as she sealed it again with fire magic.

I bowed slightly when I received it, and put it back in the pocket inside my cloak.

Slowly, as if to ensure she broke nothing, she opened the package I gave her earlier. Within she found a small wooden box, which she gently stroked the top of. She let out a quiet murmur — likely a spell — before she opened it.

Her eyes widened before she pressed her lips together. However, within the blink of an eye, her expression turned serene once again, the air around her slightly stirred in that moment of surprise.

She closed the humble wooden box and gazed upon it, while I observed her, more out of habit than curiosity.

The slow and silent tapping of her middle finger drew my attention. Her clean fingers and well-groomed nails were a stark contrast against the greyed wooden box. The simplicity of the box didn’t belong in the room we were in. The room turned darker with every tap; the sun setting just a little more for each passing moment.

“I wish to know what he thinks of it,” she announced after a lengthy pause. “He should be able to decide what is for the best. In fact, and perhaps I should not tell you this, he may be the sole person on the Continent that can decide anything regarding this. Yet that is why it is important you deliver it to him and him alone.”

She wrapped the box with such a gentle touch it could have been a child she loved, yet there was a slight frown on her face once her gaze no longer remained at my being. The box returned to its pocket within my cloak, after she returned it to my hands.

“I am afraid to admit, High Priestess, that I don’t know whom you’re talking of.”

“And it would have been better if you never knew.” After a moment filled with the sound of the quill scratching against paper, she handed me a note with the name of a man I had encountered in the past. One I knew all too well. I had not expected his name. It wasn’t a person who a High Priestess following the God out of free will would usually wish to remain in touch with.

I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“I should see this man? Are you indeed certain he is the right person?”

“I am.”

“I mean no disrespect, but I must ask again. Are you unquestionably without doubt the name you wrote is the correct one, High Priestess?”

She gave me a delicate smile — one I wasn’t used to, but she meant it not for me. The nearly goddess-like tranquillity turned to such human emotion I opened my mouth, then hastily closed it again.

“I understand. It would seem to be an unexpected choice, considering where I am asking you to go. Yet it is none other than him you should see. He will make a just decision.”

I held back a wry smile at the word ‘just’. I struggled to believe someone like her would ask someone of my kind to ask a person such as him for an opinion of what action to take next, no matter how high he valued justice.

“I do not doubt his capabilities to make decisions that are righteous — that I assure you. Yet this seems as nothing that relates to nor concerns him.”

One of her fingers twitched, yet her face remained serene.

“Do you know what is in the box?” she asked softly, but her tone had become dry and less welcoming.

“I do not.”

“Then I suggest not to make assumptions. Please be careful and make sure you deliver it directly to him. He should be alone when he sees it. Completely alone. He will know why, and he will make a decision that will solve the problem that has appeared on the Continent.”

“I shall take your word for it, High Priestess. I will take my leave then.”

I bowed and was about to turn when she stopped me.

“Have they examined you yet?”

I didn’t allow myself to freeze, nor feign a smile, though I desperately desired an excuse to leave.

“No, they have not.”

“Then, please, let me.”

Holding back a sigh, I began with removing my cloak.

“Thank you, Servant.”

Any warmth she had about her previously seemed like an illusion, her tranquillity leaving no room for my sort.