Silas led the way into the Temple, shadowed by Tristan.
Tristan paused at the doors, turning back to them. “You’re coming too, Lis?”
“Of course I am.”
He paled. “Are you sure?”
Aloisia fumed. “Yes, I am sure.”
“I just want you to be aware of what you’re going into.”
She met his wary gaze. “I know she’s dead, Tristan.”
“Knowing is different to seeing.”
Aloisia stared pointedly at him. She would not budge on this. If she could go inside, if she could be a part of this, she was going to. It would be difficult, of course. But she would do it, anyway. For Fynn.
“All right. As long as you’re sure.” He gave a nod, heading within the Temple after the high priest.
The five of them strode through the corridors in silence. Aloisia twirled a finger around one of her braids, the reality of the situation dawning on her. She had to do it. She had to see if the shaman could read the markings, had to know what they meant, what secrets they might hold. If there were even the smallest shred of hope to release Fynn from his cell, she would take it.
Silas stopped before a set of double doors and turned to them. “If you would be kind enough to wait out here, I shall ensure we have the room to ourselves. Research is still underway, so there may be some priests still in here.”
They each nodded their consent, except Oda, who gave a sigh and leant back against the wall.
Inari turned to Tristan. “From what the judiciaries said, there has been little progress with these markings. Is that true?”
“More like no progress,” Tristan answered. “While it is similar to some languages, it isn’t similar enough to ensure a proper translation.”
“Let’s hope I can make sense of it then.” Inari scratched his jaw.
The doors opened and Silas waved them inside. Aloisia took a deep breath as she stepped into the room. There were six walls, leading her to believe they must be in one of the Temple’s many towers. It had clearly been a study or library before, each wall lined with rows of books. Any other furniture had been removed, leaving only a large marble table at its centre. And upon this table lay Brighde.
Aloisia was torn between running to her and racing from the room, the two forces freezing her in place. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Brighde looked as still and empty as the last time. Her skin shone from whatever ointments the priests had used to preserve her, the black markings entwining across her body, much of which was visible. Except for two sheets slung atop her breasts and hips to preserve some modicum of modesty, she was completely naked.
Inari moved towards the table. His brows furrowed in concentration as he studied the swirling patterns, as if he were reading naught more than a page in a book. Aloisia supposed, as a shaman, he’d likely seen worse.
Aloisia could feel the weight of Tristan’s stare. She focused on Brighde as he approached.
“You don’t have to do this.” Tristan took her hand in his. “You don’t owe it to anyone. If it’s too difficult…”
Aloisia withdrew from him. “I’m fine.” The words came out as but a breath. It was as if a vice enclosed her chest, crushing her ribs, forcing what air she had left from her lungs. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped closer to the table.
Inari looked up from the other side of Brighde as she drew nearer. “This can’t be easy for you.”
“It’s not.” She could acknowledge that much. “Any clues yet?”
“I can say this is no language, not in the sense the priests mean it, anyway.” The shaman turned Brighde’s arm over, examining her wrist. Emblazoned on her palm was a marking identical to the one on Aloisia’s.
Her breath hitched at the sight. Inari glanced up, meeting her frantic eyes. What could it mean?
Silas frowned. “If it is not a language, then what is it?”
“An enchantment,” Inari said, dropping his gaze back to Brighde. “A constellation. Threads of spell work given form. You will find no translation in any of your books.”
“Can you decipher it? Make sense of it?” Aloisia asked, her voice small.
“That is yet to be seen.” He traced the pattern up Brighde’s arm. “I am not sure. However, this is not small magic.”
