Page 3 of The Oracle of Dusk

The laughs were half-hearted at best.

Understandable.

Not even Aurora could find her humour as a heavily armoured initiate of Justice made his way up the path to the dig site. It didn’t help that he was accompanied by a swarm of fearsome soldiers, all wearing imperial green. Yet Aurora knew none of these warriors, despite being friendly with many of Phaedra’s bodyguards.

Phaedra straightened instantly, setting Aurora on alert.

“Stay here,” Phaedra whispered.

“Who are they?”

“Paladins.”

Aurora sucked in a breath. Often plucked from the gladiatorial pits, they were men and women who had committed grave crimes and had chosen trial by combat. If they survived, they were pressed into service in the temples of Justice as an elite fighting force, knowing if they strayed from the righteous path, the goddess Herself would not only revoke the divine magic She’d given them, but curse them to fates much worse than death. While initiates of Justice granted divine magic were thick on the ground these days, paladins were rarely seen unless the situation was truly dire.

Sick dread curled in Aurora’s gut. No doubt they were here for Phaedra. Only royalty warranted such drastic protection, and they all wore the imperial green of Viridis. Searching the eyes of her fellow clerics, it was clear that they had all come to the same conclusion—evacuation was imminent. Aurora spared a glance to the ancient temple ruins. It had survived thousands of years intact, but if some epic battle were about to take place, it could be destroyed for good. Their careful excavation had revealed some of its secrets, but had also left the site open to unprecedented destruction. Merciful Triad, what a tragic waste.

Aurora desperately tried to commit every detail of her precious ruins to memory. They’d uncovered the weathered friezes and the roof first, gradually creating an opening into the temple interior. The ancient fluted columns were visible now, some cracked, others scorched. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would have a chance to sketch it, so that future generations might know what it once looked like before it was lost. The whispers of her peers grew quiet. No doubt they too were taking one last look. It was only when one of her fellows elbowed her in her side that she turned away from her ruins.

And was faced with the sight of paladins towering over her.

Aurora swallowed down a shriek. They must all have had a drop of giant’s blood in them, to be able to loom over her so ferociously.

Only Justice’s initiate was made of sensible proportions, being only a hand’s width taller than she. The muted grey of his tunic and leggings was indistinguishable from the mail shirt atop it. His simple breastplate, vambraces and greaves were unadorned, unlike the armour of the imperial guards or any lord’s soldiers.

“Aurora Tintori, acolyte of Knowledge, from the Boreas temple?” His voice was smooth, a pleasing baritone. His steel helmet protected his head and face, save for the T-shaped opening for his eyes, nose and mouth. From the part of his face she could see, he appeared to be her age, in his late twenties. Trivial details her mind latched on to as her legs turned to jelly.

“Initiate,” Aurora said. Another trivial detail. It was easier to focus on those.

“Pardon?” he asked, bewildered.

“Aurora Tintori is an initiate,” Phaedra clarified, returning to Aurora’s side with a protective arm around her shoulders. Gone was her commoner’s speech and easy mien. Here stood the princess of an empire.

He cleared his throat.

“Initiate Aurora Tintori, from the Boreas temple of Knowledge?”

“Y-yes?”

He frowned, scanning the faces of her fellow scholars. The silence was as piercing as the bright, icy blue of his gaze.

“Please, come with us.”

Aurora’s eyes widened, her heart leaping up her throat. Oh goddess, what could they possibly want withher? The other warriors levelled her with looks ranging from stoicism to bewilderment, boredom to outright disdain. Aurora looked to Phaedra. Surely a princess would know what was going on?

Phaedra skillfully inserted herself between Aurora and the warriors.

“My dearest paladins, you are meant to direct your overwhelming hostility towards monstrosities, not my confidants. Aurora, come with me. We will hear what they have to say in my tent.” Phaedra hooked her arm in Aurora’s and led her to the imperial tent, a large, rounded, home away from home covered in thick green felt and containing more comforts than any initiate could dream of. Plush, decorative rugs, a copper tub for bathing that one of the guards heated to perfection each night with their wild magic, fresh fruit and excellent wine on the carved wooden dining table, soft beds with silk sheets, and giant trunks full of clothes, shoes and books. Comforts that were incapable of appeasing Aurora’s rising panic.

Aurora snuck a glance behind her. She wished she hadn’t. A pack of armoured beasts stalked her steps.

“Fae, what’s happening?” Aurora whispered, her hands shaking.

She’d never been in real trouble her whole life. She’d abided by every tenet of the law both secular and divine—she’d never even returned a book late! Had her family done something? No—impossible. They were honest cloth merchants in Boreas. They had nothing to do with troublemaking, paladins, politics, or battle. Not even her youngest brother, the little beastie that he was, would get himself in trouble this big—would he? He’d been approached once by one of those heretical cultists, but surely he hadn’t gone and joined them… right?

“I don’t know yet, which is concerning to say the least. Let me do the talking. I won’t let anything happen to you. They may be paladins, but royal blood trumps glorified temple gladiators every time.”

Sometimes it was hard to say which had the greater power—the temples, or the monarchy. If trouble were in the offing, Aurora hoped her goddess wouldn’t be too upset with her that she was rooting for the monarchy this time.

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