And should I listen? Or is it just one final obstacle to obtaining this Tear?
Before I can work through it, Anassa’s keen senses pick up on something. “Remount immediately,” she says.“Someone’s coming.”
I whirl around, taking two big steps to quickly remount Anassa, and then pull the rifting magic ever tighter to all our forms.
In another second, I hear what Anassa’s sensitive direwolf ears heard first: the light sound of supple leather boots against cobblestone.
A stooped, cloaked figure emerges from another lane across the square, hurrying directly toward the statue.
I hold my breath as the person sinks to their knees, folding forward to press their forehead against the goddess’s stone feet, and the whispers of prayers reach us, too soft for even Anassa to make out the words.
As the figure rises, the hood of their cloak slips slightly, allowing us a glimpse of a wrinkled face.
My mouth drops open.“Is that—”
“Yes,” Stark confirms.
It’s the Mother Priestess.
“She’s almost definitely under Killian’s sway,” I say automatically, my eyes glued to her figure.“Whether by choice or by force, using that nasty Tear to influence her. Right?”
We both pause. We know what must happen next regardless.
Anassa’s the one to voice it.“Either way, she is likely to be here for the same reason we are: to take the Tear. We can’t let her do that.”
As if in direct response to Anassa’s words, the priestess reaches under her robes and draws out a tool—a hammer, glinting in the lamplight.
The time for thinking is done.
“Mother Priestess,” I call, dropping the rift around us and silently asking Anassa to step forward. “I command you to stop this instant.”
She spins around, the hand holding the hammer dropping to her side as she regards me in shock. Her weathered face wrinkles in surprise, eyes flicking between me and Anassa.
“My queen!” She sinks to her knees, bowing her head. Her voice echoes strangely around the square, the emptiness of the space seeming to bounce the sound back at us:queen, queen.
The shadows and light flicker across the older woman’s face as she watches me approach. Stark and Cratos stay close at my back, still shrouded in shadow.
“Why are you here? Did Killian send you? How did he know to come here?”
The priestess nods slowly. “King Killian sent me here.” Her eyes are unfocused and vague.
“If she’s under Killian’s influence, from the ring…,” I say to Stark and Anassa uneasily.“Do you think there’s any way for me to break it?”
Stark and Cratos edge closer to us.“We shouldn’t risk trying. She’s obviously here for the Tear, too. She’s not on our side, Meryn. If she gets in our way… we’ll have to incapacitate her.”
I see the sense in his words, but a part of me still hesitates, looking down at this frail woman.
After all the terrible things I’ve done, now I need to attack this old lady?
And how will the people of Nocturna react to me hurting—or worse—the head of the goddess’s sacred order? That’ll hardly win people back over to my side…
I take another step toward her, holding out a hand reassuringly. “Mother Priestess, it’s me, Meryn. Killian is controlling your mind. You need to wake up. Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”
The Mother Priestess’s face seems to light from the inside at my words, eyes kindling with a feverish intensity. “Foolish child,” she says, her voice full of reverence. “I’m afraid you misunderstand me completely.”
“To me,” Anassa barks urgently through our bond, but I’m already moving, vaulting up to her back, eyes fixed on the priestess as I move.
The woman’s face emanates an ecstatic joy that sets my teeth on edge. Her eyes are those of a true believer, glassy and fervent.
