Page 37 of Fate

“Past few months? We heard you were driven from the temple only a month ago.” Lyras nods at my question.

“That is true, but for about two months prior, our people were slowly being attacked during the night. At first, it seemed to be the random crime of a capital city. It took us too long to realize we were being targeted. Then the incident at the temple of Solon; which wasn’t us by the way!” Helia and I sit back on our stools, processing the flood of information we’ve received tonight. “It’s terrifying how easy it has been for the citizens of the city to turn a blind eye to our plight. Sad that after three months, the world has moved on.”

Perhaps the lines and wrinkles on his face weave a tale of tragedy rather than age. I turn to Helia to see if she’s on the same path of thought I am.

“Commander. Athos was attacked about a few months ago. That’s when all of this started.” A thin, grim line creases Helia’s face as she comes to the same conclusion. “It’s all been coordinated and now hearing all of this, plus the coins…I don’t believe Solon is behind any of it.”

Lyras brings his brows together, trying to follow our side of things.

“Agreed. It would need to be a god with enough power, influence, and wealth to find you, stage an attack here, ambush us multiple times, and provide blessings enough to challenge you, a conduit. Not all members of the pantheons have that.” Helia continues on, oblivious to the apoplectic shock on Lyras’s face. I tap my commander on the shoulder, drawing her attention.

Lyras finally works up enough air to speak.

“C-conduit? As in, Conduit of the gods?”

Conduit of the gods? I know I’m the Conduit of Lunos, but outside of a basic understanding, I still haven’t figured out exactly what I am. Maybe I can learn more from Lyras, if he ever recovers from the shock he’s about to receive. With a wink to Helia, I clear my thought. A little fun never hurt right?

“You heard right. I’m the Conduit of Lunos.” I fork a thumb in Helia’s direction. “And she’s an Aspect of Lunos.”

Helia coughs a laugh as the color drains from Lyras’s face, mouth opening and closing slowly. I lurch forward as Lyras falls backward, passing out from coming face to face with his legends.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AFTER LAYING LYRAS down on the bed, I leave at Helia’s bidding to gather some water for him. Stepping back out into the temple proper, I take the moment to look around, empty pitcher in hand.

The central open dome casts moonlight and starlight into the center of the temple, reflecting off of a multitude of polished silver plates. I hadn’t noticed when we entered, but now that the light of the night is in full force, thousands of reflections reach every corner of the circular temple. A reflection of the starry night itself.

“Hello. May I help you sir?” I jump at the voice next to me. A young person stands at ease next to me, the purple vestments of Nia swathing their small frame. Short, wavy black hair frames their face well. I push down my surprise at the sudden appearance.

“It’s not sir, actually.” I pause, bracing myself to deal with whatever their reaction is. I remember Helia’s words about cities being different than Athos, but that doesn’t help in the moment. The priest smiles placing a hand over their heart before bowing in apology and acknowledgment. That’s it. Simple, easy. What a different world than what I grew up with. I gesture with the pitcher in one hand to answer the question. “If you could help me get some water, I would be grateful. Lyras could use it.”

The priest nods and signals for me to follow. We work our way around the dome to a doorway on the opposite end, avoiding any disturbance our passing may have on the worshipers in the center. Entering the room, I realize this is a kitchen of sorts. Makeshift, yet functional. A short well sits in the back of the room; unusual, but given tensions between the pantheons, I suppose it makes sense.

I stifle the urge to snoop around the place, my inner cook eager to find hidden seasonings and recipes scrawled on stained scrolls. The young priest places a wooden bucket on a rope in the well and lowers it down into the depths.

“What is your name? I’d like to thank you properly for your help.” The priest smiles without slowing down.

“It’s Nythesus. You can just call me Ny. Fitting for a follower of Nia, huh?” I snort at that. Fitting indeed; yet how often does Ny have to say that joke?

“Thank you for helping Lyras and the other Lunites. I know that puts you all in danger.” Ny’s hands still before starting the slow climb up, bucket now laden with water.

“Nia willed it; they have always been a partner to Lunos and would not stand to see Lunite priests massacred. Besides”—Ny grunts with a full pull bringing the bucket all the way up—“we would have helped regardless. We’re not the kind to watch helpless people be slaughtered.”

I nod absently. I understand that feeling now; it’s what I felt back in Athos. The burning itch to do something. To not just stand by and watch as people were being murdered in front of my eyes. Even if it meant my own life was forfeit.

Nythesus gently tips the bucket’s contents into my pitcher, filling it to the brim. The remainder of the water gets tossed back to the well. They lead me back out to the main room and we once again make our way around the edge of the circle. We walk slower this time though, each lost in our thoughts. About halfway there, an idea strikes me.

“Ny, why do you think the Lunites were attacked?”

They rub their chin, eying me sidelong.

“Honestly, I think there is a struggle taking place between the gods. Sure, they always jockey for position and power, but this seems different; desperate.” Ny stops in place, forcing me to do the same. I can see the door to Lyras’s room, but this is more important. “Nia is indeed always a friend to Lunos, but even that has been strained as of late.”

My eyes widen at that. That’s not what I expected. “What do you mean?”

Nythesus looks around warily, making sure no one could overhear. A marble column obstructs us from the view of the worshipers in the center of the dome, their prayers reaching a fevered pitch. Breathing slowly, Ny closes their eyes. A moment passes. Then, another.

Suddenly, Nythesus throws their eyes open to reveal pools of the deepest black. Pinpricks of light breakthrough those depths of darkness, akin to the stars themselves. They reach out and cover my mouth before I have a chance to shout the obscenity on the tip of my tongue.