Page 49 of Fading Sun

We follow his directions in silence. Any conversation feels like it would destroy the peace of this beautiful place.

Like the rest of the monastery, the garden is beautiful. It’s in a large courtyard in the center of the building, and it’s lush with vegetation. Flowers bloom in wild abundance, and herbs fill the air with their strong, spicy scents.

In the middle of it all is an elderly man, his back to us, his hands buried in the soil of a flowerbed.

“Abbot?” Damien calls out gently, not wanting to startle him.

The man stands and turns, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his robes. His face is lined with age, but his eyes are sharp and clear.

“Yes?” he asks.

I step forward, taking the lead, given this is my mission.

“Sunneva sent us here,” I tell him. “The sun goddess. We’re looking for the Solar Scepter, and she said this is where we had to come to find it.”

Amber

The Abbot’s eyebrows arch, his gaze sharpening even more.

I wait for him to tell us we have the wrong place, or that he has no idea what we’re talking about, or to kick us out entirely.

“Very interesting,” he finally says. “Please, come with me.”

Without another word, he leads us back inside the monastery through a narrow, winding passage. I glance at the others, but none of us speak as we pass a series of ornately carved doors and stop before one that’s open to a room bathed in soft, natural light.

There’s an altar with a large Buddha perched in the center, candles burning by his feet.

Three people—tourists—are wandering around the room.

At the sight of the Abbot, one of them sheepishly stashes her phone into her bag mid-way through taking a selfie.

“The monastery is closed for the day,” the Abbot tells them.

The girl checks her watch. “I thought we had a few more hours?”

“As I said—we’re closed for the day.” He fixes her with a serene gaze that somehow feels threatening, and after the tourists hurry out, he turns back to the four of us. “I’ll get the others. Wait here.”

“What others?” I ask, but he simply gives me a look of warning and heads out.

I frown and look at the others.

“Do you think this is our first test?” I ask, studying the room for any clues about what we’re supposed to do.

“Unsure,” Damien says. “If it is, I suppose it could be a test of patience.”

I groan, since I hope not.

Patience is a virtue I definitely don’t have.

“I hope it’s straightforward.” Blaze walks up to the Buddha, looking at him closer. “A fight, or a test about how well we can use our magic.”

He brings out his dagger and examines its sharp blade, as if he can’t wait to try it out now that it’s supposedly invincible.

Morgan’s standing in front of one of the columns, running her fingers across its intricate patterns. “Somehow, I think they’re aiming for deeper revelations than how well we can throw a punch,” she says, but before we can speculate further, the sound of measured footsteps signals the return of the Abbot.

He’s accompanied by eight other monks, including the one Morgan approached for directions, all of them in matching red robes. Some have stern faces carved from years of their disciplined lives, others with softer, more serene expressions.

“Thank you for your patience,” the Abbot begins, his voice echoing ominously in the otherwise quiet room. “It is time for us to proceed to the location of your first trial.”

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