Page 130 of The Oracle of Dusk

“My little lion, I’ve missed you!”

“And I you, Aunty,” Theron returned the hug, enveloped in her warmth and softness. A part of him came home for the first time in weeks.

“That’s High Priestess Aunty to you, young man!” she giggled, wrapping him on the forehead. But his smile must have shown his troubles, because her amber eyes softened and she pressed a hand the same rich, ochre brown as his to his cheek as her dark brows pinched in sympathy. “Oh, my poor boy, what did they do to you?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, on hair so deep a shade of red that it was nearly black, just showing streaks of grey threading through. She was the only one he’d ever dared unburden himself to, the only one he fully trusted with his sorrows, his joys, his weakness. It was Myrina who had kept him whole when his world had shattered as a young man, forced to take the crown long before he was ready.

“Nothing that your presence can’t make better.”

“Come, my little lion. Anything can be solved when we put our heads together over a cup of tea.”

How he wished that were the case.

Inside the temple of Passion, everything was dipped in red, like being swallowed whole. Here, Her energy felt like a lover’s sigh, like a current of fervour shivering and shimmering everywhere he stepped. It was here he felt most at home, wrapped in the embrace of Passion’s ruby-red columns, tapestries and mosaic floors. When they reached the foot of Passion, Her statue adorned in gold and sparkling crimson, Theron and Myrina knelt, paying their respects. The incense settled his mind at the same time as it energized him.

When they stood, clerics in ruby uniforms ushered them to Myrina’s quarters, returning once they were settled with tea and biscuits, both of the highest quality. Passion was a goddess who advocated for the patronage of those most passionately dedicated to their crafts, after all, and many repaid the patronage given by the temple by serving it in whatever way they could. Walls were decorated with paintings and sculptures made by the most talented artists while the temple was, at most times, filled with the sweet sounds of musicians mastering their skills.

Myrina settled her plump, beautifully adorned self into her seat and sipped at the aromatic blend in her cup. Theron relaxed into his seat across from her, staring into his cup.

“I’ve fucked up, Aunty.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, telling her everything he’d experienced since he’d landed at The Colonnades Of The Colossus. From his divine punishment to meeting Aurora, her magic, the plague, Flora and Orithyia’s meddling, the queen’s magic, her daughter’s threats, the vivarium, the attack by monstrosities, his brush with death, the paladins’ investigation, and finally, his deal with Orithyia. Myrina listened without judgment.

“You didn’t receive my letters?” she asked, pained.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why didn’t you wait? You’ve always been so cautious.”

“I didn’t think you’d come, Aunty. I thought I was alone.”

“Oh, my little lion.” Myrina got up from her seat and held him in her arms once more. “I will always come for you. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“As am I. Now, my wedding takes place in a matter of days, and it’ll be a miracle if we manage to get back to Aureum without Flora trying to start a war using her daughter as the catalyst.” He put his head in his hands.

Myrina sat back, pondering the situation, sipping her tea as she gazed out the window at the palace beyond.

“I’d always wanted you to marry for love.”

“You knew that was never going to happen,” he chided her gently.

“I just wanted you to have what I had.” She smiled sadly.

Though uncommon, high priestesses could marry. Myrina had run away from the palace as a young woman to wed her lover and join the temple. What she and his uncle had shared had inspired plays and songs dedicated to their romance. But he’d died young, and Myrina had dedicated herself fully to the goddess who had given her the greatest love of her life.

“Not everyone is fated for a great and passionate love, Aunty.”

“And yet, the way you speak of Aurora gives me hope.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Don’t think you can convince me otherwise with all your talk of using her magic for Aureum. She can be both your greatest asset and your greatest love.” She poked him in the arm to emphasize her point.

He snorted. Always the incurable romantic, his Aunty.

“It’s lust, not love.” Theron waved her off.

“Passion approves of and encourages both.” Myrina nodded sagely.

“How is it, that after I tell you of all the horrors I’ve endured, you only wish to discuss romance?”

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