“What about your veil?”
Liane looked skeptically at the sheer bit of cloth draped over a nearby chair. She’d tossed it there after a priestess had delivered it and hadn’t looked at it since. The Avatheos might think it protected her, but it was just a bit of fabric. She might be the goddess’ chosen, but she felt anything but divine. Covering her face felt silly. She’d made no vows and was hardly a priestess.
Erich had saved her. If he hadn’t been there, she would have been torn to shreds. After the incident, she’d hoped to see him again. Even if it was reckless. If the Midnight Guards discovered him, they’d kill him for being corrupted. As magnificent as his dragon form was, it was corruption. Normal humans didn’t turn into winged beasts. As the goddess’ avatar and chosen vessel, she represented the light, and he the darkness. But it was hard to separate the man she knew, who’d risked his own life to save her, and the force of evil she knew he was supposed to be.
She pushed thoughts of him away and focused on her acquired mission. Not even the Avatheos could question her visiting the temple to pray. And should she happen to get lost along the way and discover secrets about her new home, while looking for her errant guard, who could blame her?
Her chamber was at the end of a long hall lined with doors. The corridor ended in a stairwell that led down to the main floor. Liane’s first impression of the temple had been a bit of a blur. She’d been surrounded by Midnight Guards as they’d hustled her into her rooms, and then there’d been a flurry of priestesses and priests in and out of her room checking that she was unharmed. By the time the initial shock of the incident had worn off, the visitors had stopped, and the boredom set in. Now that she’d had time to soak it all in, she was surprised by how different the interior of the temple was compared to the one back in Artria. While her room was stark and plain, the halls here were covered in mosaics depicting different moments in Neolyra’s history. From the tale of Cyra and the Nameless Goddess to more recent events like the founding of Neolyra.
The temple itself was made of many interlocking circles, and spires. Most of the halls curved, and she couldn’t see anyone coming until they were nearly on top of her. The ceilings were vaulted, and each footstep she took had a faint ringing echo. But the priests and priestesses she came across didn’t seem to make a sound, and she was startled more than once on her way to the shrine.
They bowed their heads at each other as they passed, but no one spoke. And despite the stillness and silence, there was a frenetic energy in the air that prickled over her skin. She passed by a room with an arched doorway, a ceiling painted with vibrant frescos, and rows upon rows of hooded acolytes sat over scrolls, working, the only sound the scratching of quills on parchment.
Around the next corner was a smaller room, where a hooded priest instructed a group of children. Liane lingered for a few minutes, wondering what it would have been like had she gotten instruction from a young age. But the thought was too depressing, and she wandered off in search of Ludwig, or at least a hidden passageway.
There were none to be found, it seemed, and she was about to give up on uncovering secrets and finding Ludwig when she saw him speaking with a Midnight Guard. The guard’s back was to Liane, but the conversation must have been serious because Ludwig’s brow was pinched and he was dragging his hands through his hair, as he often did when he was upset.
He noticed her and said goodbye to the guard before marching over.
“What are you doing?”
“You weren’t outside my room,” Liane said.
Ludwig sighed. “I had something to do.”
She raised her brows, urging him to continue, but he pressed his lips together.
Liane sighed. “You’re keeping secrets again.”
“No, I’m not.” He wouldn’t look at her when he spoke.
She wanted to press him, but a crowd of priests passed them by, heads bowed. This wasn’t the place to argue. A part of her was afraid to know. Ludwig placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. Let him keep his secrets.
Since she was out, she decided to head to the shrine after all. On her and Ludwig’s way, they passed through a garden filled with verdant bushes, arches laden with flowering vines, and a few marble fountains. The pathways, benches, and shaded spots were a place where worshippers and temple residents could sit in quiet meditation if they wished. It reminded her of the garden back home, and a sudden wave of homesickness overtook her.
If she stopped to bask in a sunbeam, she might be transported back home. But when Liane tried to close her eyes and do just that, the stillness and quiet felt too dissonant. Priests and priestesses didn’t linger in gossiping circles the way courtiers did. In fact, they seemed to move with single-minded purpose, as if they all had somewhere more important to be. And the only other people in the garden were Midnight Guards standing before the entrances. It left the entire palace, though full of people, feeling cold and lifeless.
She gave up and continued to the shrine. The main shrine room, where they held ceremonies and sunrise services, was twice as big as the one back home. It was a large circular room with a domed roof painted like the sky. A few priests and worshippers were scattered about the pews, heads bowed in prayer. None of them looked up as she entered. Liane slid into one of the pews near the back and sat down to gaze up at the statue of Cyra. It was a massive gilt statue that loomed over the curved rows of pews. In Cyra’s right hand, she clutched the Golden Blade. The same sword that was embedded in Liane’s back. Liane hadn’t come here to pray, not really, but she felt so overcome by the sight of Cyra’s golden glory that it felt wrong not to.
She knelt at Cyra’s feet and bowed her head. Liane wasn’t someone who faith came easily to. Oftentimes, she found excuses to skip sunrise rites and drifted off when the Vice Premier preached. She didn’t have words to say in prayer, but she hoped Cyra understood her heart. She had many questions for the goddess. Why choose me? What do you plan on doing with me? But as she stared into the farseeing, impassive face of the goddess, no answers were forthcoming. It seemed being the goddess’ chosen wasn’t as simple as the Avatheos had made it out to be.
Someone cleared their throat from behind her, and she turned around. Ludwig placed himself between her and the interloper, but he relaxed when he realized it was a veiled priestess wearing acolyte yellow.
“Forgive me for interrupting your worship. I went to your room in search of you, but your maid informed me that you were out.”
“And you are?”
“Sylvie, your grace. The Avatheos said I was to give you a tour of the temple.”
“Oh.” Liane looked at Ludwig, and he gave her a slight shrug. “I was eager to get out and stopped to pray.”
“I can wait until you finish your prayers.” Sylvie bowed to her and took a few steps back to allow her privacy.
Liane stared up at Cyra once more. She could be imagining it, but it felt like maybe this was a sign of the goddess. Liane took a few more minutes to wrap up her prayers and made a show of performing the nine-pointed star before rising up and smiling at her soon-to-be escort.
“Where shall we start?” Liane asked.
“Here, I suppose,” Sylvie said. Liane couldn’t see her face properly, but what she could see of it looked young.
