Not deeply.
But enough to stir discomfort in her spine.
‘Your Radiance,’he signed.‘A message from the Lattice.’
She tucked it into her sleeve.
‘The People only wish to offer thanks,’he signed.
Auryn turned to him, dismayed. “Then ask them not to kneel.”
A shadow of discomfort blurred into the lines of age upon his weathered face.‘After the Rite, many believe the Destroyer has shown His will.’
His will.
Auryn nearly laughed at the cruelty of that lie. The spectacle of it.
As if her survival was prophecy. As if her pain transmuted neatly into purpose. As if this very city had not spent decades demanding for her to disappear, only to turn now and dub her chosen.
Lu’ma stepped closer, body positioned in a subtle angle between Auryn and the crowd. Her expression remained composed, but one hand had shifted beneath her shawl toward the hidden blade at her arm.
‘It is time to depart, Your Radiance,’her fingers signed low.
Auryn nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
She stepped down the rest of the temple stairs and turned to face the crowd properly.
“If you wish to thank Us,” she said, smoothing her face into the visage of the Sokâr, “then stand.”
They obeyed. Hesitant at first, then certain. One after another until more than fifty faces looked up at her from the square.
Auryn took a breath.
“Wewalked through fire on the whim of Doctrine,” she said. “But We enacted the Writ of the Ninth Lattice because this city has asked too much of some and not enough of others.” She pointed to the temple. “The sick inside those walls need broth, clean water, and hands willing to carry chamber pots without complaint. They need Menders to treat what can be cured, Crafters to bring any supplies that can be spared. And patience. Compassion.”
She paused.
“Kneeling will not help those who burn in the Doctrine’s neglect. Firing an arrow into the arms of an effigy will not spur a miracle. It is you—every one of you—that must look to yourselves to find salvation.”
No one spoke.
Auryn softened her tone. “If you would honor the Sokâr, then help one another. We will do what we can. That is all We can promise. Not prophecy. Not godhood. Only this.”
At that, something shifted in the crowd. The woman from earlier stood straighter and wiped her eyes.‘I will send apprentices from my House to bring fresh linens,’she signed.
Another man moved behind her, weaving to the front of the crowd.‘My House will bring broth.’
More signing, hands flying in a thousand chaotic motions, offering aid, collaborating.
The spell broke.
Not entirely. The crowd’s eyes lingered on her back, full of a new and dangerous awe. But the People were moving now, discussing solutions for the temple, gathering themselves into labor instead of adoration of an empty title.
That, at least, her conscience could bear.
Beside her, Lu’ma relaxed by a fraction.‘Better to give them a task than let them build an altar,’she signed.
They crossed the square together, the crowd parting for them. Only once they reached the lane beyond the temple, Auryn let her shoulders drop. She slipped a hand into the fold of her sleeve and touched the folded note hidden there. The parchment seemed unnaturally heavy as she unfolded it and read the contents.
