Taken as a whole, it was a maze of stone passages that I would have loved to explore, given half a chance. Everyone walked with a purpose here, as though they knew exactly where they were going, navigating the narrow streets with ease. My steps faltered slightly when I noticed the stares.
“Do they know who I am?” I asked quietly.
“Word travels fast,” Finn admitted. “And you are fairly noticeable, especially with that signature hairdo.”
My hand raised involuntarily to my hair, where it was braided in a crown. I had taken to wearing it like that ever since Kaia had grabbed my hair early on in one of our sparring sessions—something Cormac had taught me years before, and I had foolishly neglected.
“But look.” Finn took my arm, tucking it into his, directing my attention to the passersby. While they were staring, people simply nodded respectfully, and then went about their business. There was no swarming me like the courtiers did every chance they got.
“They’re curious about you,” Finn said quietly. “And who wouldn’t be curious about our long-lost princess. But they won’t beset you, unlike those beasts above us.”
I relaxed, nodding back at the people who bowed their heads to my passing.
The first set of stores we came upon were textile in nature—clothes, bed linens, blankets. Slightly farther on were the various apothecaries and stores that sold essence-bound trinkets.
Finn explained this practice. “For people who don’t have access to various channels, they can buy medallions or some other item that has a small store of power in it for that task. Like Azar does with teleporting. Not everyone has access to a teleporter like Griff, so they may buy a necklace that allows them to do so. Of course, there’s a finite amount of power stored, so it may only get them a handful of trips. Could be fewer if they’re going farther distances. Or someone may decide they don’t want to use flint and steel and buy a fire starter. Again, a cheap fire starter may only be able to start a dozen fires, while a more expensive one could do a hundred or so.” He continued, “And then there are those who do it for love of the craft, like essence-forged blades. Master blacksmiths will forge weapons of considerable power. You’ve seen Griff’s swords? Taladhar is imbued with air and earth. And Pyreth is fire and water. Opposites in each blade. They heighten his channels, making him a more effective killing machine.”
I bristled at that description of Griff, but I had no time to counter Finn, as he announced, “Ah, here we are.” He ushered me toward a tall stone building with seven columns on the outside. “This is what I wanted to show you. The Saicharan. Our temple.”
I stared up at the seven columns, each a different color: green, blue, red, silver, gold, purple, and burgundy. An image of the god tied to that power was carved into each one. Green was the most familiar to me, being the earth mother, Erde. Her hands hovered over the ground, coaxing new life into being, the plants spiraling up to meet her. Blue was water, and depicted as a female, Voda, the ocean behind her, with a wave crashing up over her arm. Fire, Ignis, was all in red, and holding a fireball, the warrior incarnate. Air, Vitr, was in silver, his wind depicted by swirls surrounding his head. The internal channels were more complex. The woman dressed in gold with a serene expression on her face and her hands folded gentlycould only be Solais—goddess of soul. Her features were familiar to me though I couldn’t place them. Purple must have been mind, Meddwl, who had a tricky look on his face. And the last was body, Corff, as burgundy, a stern and foreboding massive brute.
Finn kept pace with me as I climbed up the tall steps, my attention lingering on the image of Solais. It wavered as I passed, almost as if her eyes followed me.
Inside the temple, there were three main sections, in the shape of a “T.” The upper arms seemed older, like it was the original section. Worn, weathered limestone formed the walls. The middle portion down the center was newer, sharper, built of sections of dark granite. Stretching out before me were three rows of benches—gold, purple, and burgundy. To my left were two rows, green and silver. My right had red and blue. Each of the benches were carved with representations of the god or goddess of that section. Light flowed in through skylights and stained glass, again each colored according to the god, bathing the stones below it in a wash of color.
I gravitated to the earth section, hoping to sense some familiarity there. For people who were mostly farmers, Erde provided all we needed. Our fortunes rose and fell depending on her gifts. I’d never heard of the other gods in Fairhaven, although here, I’d been quickly exposed to them, as everyone had their favorite that they prayed to.
I stayed for a moment on the green bench, grounding myself and drawing strength through it, smelling the scents of rich loam and fresh herbs, bringing to mind greenery and growth. The stained glass around me was etched in spiraling vines, the green glaze washing over me, making me feel renewed.
Next, I sat on the silver bench, the scents changing to crisp mountain air. Swirling winds and cloud formations formed the stained glass here.
I paused at blue, not feeling a strong connection to water, although the ocean freshness and hint of rain reminded me of Griff. And the flowing waves outlined in the windows were peaceful.
I spent even less time in the section devoted to fire;I’d had enough of that particular element for a bit. I wiggled my nose at the tongues of flame in the glass, although that also could have been from the warm spices and cedar smoke tickling my nose.
I let my hand pass over the purple bench where Finn sat, the maze patterns and interconnected lines in the art too busy for my liking. Burgundy was the same, the angular patterns and strong geometric shapes appearing standoffish, although there were a few people meditating there.
And finally, I eased onto the gold bench. My heart rate slowed the longer I stayed here, the scent of something transcendent, maybe sandalwood, washing over me. I felt settled, at peace. As I stared at the interlocking circles and light rays detailed in the golden glass, my power coursed through me and swirled around. This was a different type of grounding, a different type of recharging. I breathed deeply, letting go of stress, and for once feeling it flow out of me.
But then my scalp prickled and I looked around. There weren’t that many people here at this time of day. Finn was still over on the purple bench. But there, edging toward the altar of Solais, was a man in a dark cloak, his hood raised. Although I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew he was staring directly at me.
Goosebumps broke out over my skin as I started to edge toward Finn. The hooded stranger’s steps mirrored my own.
I reached my mind out to Finn and alerted him.
His head shot up, and he started tracking him too.“Head to the door,”Finn said.
As I started making my way there, the dark-cloaked man continued mirroring my steps. Finn reached for my elbow, to hurry me along, not that he needed to.
“I don’t like the feel of this,”I sent to him.
“I don’t either. Something seems off.”
As we reached the doors, shadows appeared and slammed them shut with a bone-jarring crash. More shadows shrieked up toward the skylights, blocking out the light and plunging us into sudden darkness. The temperature dropped twenty degrees. The scents I hadbeen enjoying were overwhelmed by the reek of decay. A haunting laugh echoed off the stones, the sound coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The hair on the back of my neck stood up at the cruelty in that laugh.
“Shit.” There was a scraping sound as Finn pulled his dagger free. Neither of us had brought swords, which seemed like a horrible idea right now. And the only element I was wielding reliably at this time was fire, which, in a room full of wood, probably wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t trust my control that much. But I was feeling grateful to Kaia for drilling me in channelblades, as that might end up the only option I had here.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that the man had thrown back his hood and wasn’t a man at all. He appeared to be made of the same darkness as the shadows, as though he was a burned-out shell of what was once a man. All of his features were darker than the darkest of nights, as if he was made of the absence of light. This must be what Griff had described as hufen. Infected. Demon. And he was staring straight at me.
