Salvacion nods. ‘She . . . she had to feed.’
‘Holy Aistra.’ I clap my hand to my mouth and try to swallow the bile rising in my throat.
‘Feed? What does she mean feed?’ Finlyr asks, but his voice is distant and cold.
‘She nearly killed so many of them, Hanan.’ Salvacion’s voice wavers. ‘She took more back to the Bastion. I had to stop it. I tried to stop the Seaguardians but...’
‘Her will is divine,’ I say, the words ash on my tongue.
‘There was a kid, not much older than Biba, on that last boat,’ Salvacion says, holding my gaze.
At Biba’s name, Ris looks towards her daughter. It breaks the spell the three of us have been under and I look around for the first time in an age, acknowledging the others.
Ris drops to her knees and beckons Biba. ‘This is your aunt Salvacion.’
Biba approaches reluctantly. ‘Aunt?’
‘Your father was my brother,’ Salvacion says, clearing her throat and extending a hand towards the kid.
‘Is it only you left?’ I ask.
‘No, a few Temple Sisters remain and Mother Joca. They have been cloistered in prayer for days.’
‘Take me to them.’
‘Hanan, she needs a healer, look at her,’ Ris insists.
‘What happened?’ Biba asks, cocking her head to the side to look at Salvacion closely.
Salvacion smiles weakly. ‘I’m not sure. I got beaten pretty bad.’
‘We’ll get you patched up,’ Finlyr says. ‘There’s got to be something here, right, Hanan?’
‘Yes, there’s a herb garden and apothecary supplies. I don’t know how much remains intact.’
Adarna has taken an interest in the rookery, and I hear the squawking and chittering of the birds inside. Some terrible chaos has taken place in my absence, but Adarna seems soothed by the noise. It’s feeding off the fear, its own type of dark energy. Sinigang prowls around Adarna, hissing. At first I start, thinking they are fighting to hunt in the rookery. But then I realise Sinigang is protecting the rookery. As the two creatures stare at each other, Adarna seems to relent slightly, tucking its wings under itself and lying down on the ground.
As the others disperse in pursuit of remedies for Salvacion, I make my way into the temple. The halls are eerily quiet, and with no lamps burning I make my way in the gloom by memory and touch more than sight. There is no open horror, but the unsettling sensation of things upturned, of nothing in its rightful place.
I find the acolytes in the heart of the temple, the inner sanctum where we prayed daily. Back when I believed miracles could only be something beautiful, in service of something divine. The stained-glass Bastion is shattered, with the shards swept clumsily to one side. The Sisters kneel in their triangles, with Mother Joca in the centre. My presence disrupts the energy, and they break.
‘I told you not to disturb—’ Mother Joca breaks off when she sees me, the colour draining from her face. ‘By all the powers, it can’t be!’
The anxiety flutters through the small group, and they clutch each other, as though I am some nightmare creature.
‘Is that the princess?’ Mother Joca begins, eyes wide and brow furrowed.
‘She is under my care now,’ I insist. ‘If anyone tries to take her from me, I won’t hesitate to kill them.’
‘We don’t mean her harm. It is a great relief to see she is alive and well.’
‘I am sorry for the pain she inflicted because of me. I know you’re scared. But now you’ve seen what the queen can do now, what she means to do with everyone.’
‘She has taken what she needs,’ Mother Joca says. ‘She will leave us be.’
I stare at her. ‘You think she will ever be satisfied? How many more people have to die by her hands?’
‘That is the way of things: the royals have always had a priestess.’
