Page 6 of The Oracle of Dusk

“We shall see.” He nodded, turning his attention back to Aurora. “I apologise for their rudeness. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Silvanus, avatar of our goddess, Justice.”

He bowed, as deeply as one might to a princess. Taking her hand, he bent his head over it and kissed her dusty knuckles. Aurora’s insides squirmed. What in the goddesses’ good graces was going on? Aurora swallowed down her fear as best she could. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she managed to speak.

“What do you want from me?”

Phaedra had not misspoken when she’d described Aurora. More mouse than warrior, her only magic was that she knew the temple’s main library like the back of her hand and had an uncanny ability to assist Phaedra in all manner of mischief. She was no one. An acolyte who had only just become a true initiate.

“You know that the sinister planets are aligned, correct? That their influence has created the plague of monstrosities?” Orithyia asked, as though teaching a lesson to a particularly slow student.

Aurora nodded. It was a basic religious teaching, one especially well-known in times such as these.

“And you know very well that sometimes, these alignments have heralded a cycle of calamity and the rebirth of Drakon?”

Aurora nodded again, biting her lip, lest the screams trapped in her throat break free. The Beast of Old was a fearsome horned serpent that slithered through the skies on a bank of malevolent clouds, raining down death and devastation. Nowhere was safe from its wanton destruction.

“Then you must also know that in such dire times, the goddesses give us the means to end the cycle—a holy sword and a hero gifted both wild and divine magic to wield it, an avatar of Justice.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

So what in the world did that have to do with her? She was neither a holy sword nor an avatar of Justice. While her research focused on the earliest recorded cycle of calamity, she was hardly the most learnèd on the subject.

“Silvanus is that hero, that avatar of Justice. High Priestess Nerio has confirmed as much. But there is one last piece to ending the cycle of calamity. A piece we keep hidden from view, whose existence is never publicly revealed, for fear the heretical cults might bring them harm.” Aurora swallowed down bile, clammy hands gripping the fabric of her trousers. “The sinister aspects of the goddesses—Lies, Vengeance, and Death—may not be worshipped openly in Trisia, but they have their followers, those who will rise up for their champion, their avatar—the Beast of Old. But Drakon rises only when his prey has been reborn. A devoted follower of Knowledge, one who awakens the magic to seal the beast. You are its prey. And we need you to awaken that magic. I’m sorry, Aurora.”

Merciful Triad, they were all doomed.

No, no, this was simply not possible.

“That can’t be. I have…I have ruins to uncover. Artefacts to catalogue. We’ve only just excavated the inner hall. There’s so much left to be done.”

Orithyia sighed.

“I read the signs again this morning. Our goddess has spoken.”

The goddesses Knowledge, Passion and Justice often sent signs for their high priestesses to interpret, but this was simple madness. There must be another explanation for the signs.

“But, there must be some mistake! I can’t be this person. I’m…I only just became an initiate…”

“Do you doubt my expertise?” Orithyia raised a white brow.

“I—no—but you must think—”

“I do notthink, Aurora, Iknow. Knowledge sends Her signs for us to interpret. Thanks to Her divine guidance, I have never once been wrong. Do you suppose I would not be absolutely certain before I presented this to you?”

Tears stung her eyes then. Despair began overwhelming denial. She would surely die. They all would, if the conclusion of this divine mission rested on her shoulders. She was no more capable of being a hero than a fish was of flight. The only weapons she’d ever wielded were her wits and her pen. Anyone who claimed the pen mightier than the sword had never been asked to face down the Beast of Old holding naught but a quill and a pithy remark in their defence.

“But I can’t—”

“You can, because you must, Aurora. Knowledge has spoken. The divine Triad wills it. Your fate has been spun,” Orithyia said, the stern disciplinarian once more. Aurora’s heart sank. Orithyia’s pale grey eyes softened then, a look that had Aurora biting her lip as it threatened to tremble. “You would not be given this role if you were incapable of seeing it done. In that, I have absolute faith. You may believe yourself unworthy of this great task, little dove, but I have watched you your whole life, andIbelieve in you.”

That proved to be the final fissure that ensued she crumbled. Aurora sobbed openly then. Orithyia hobbled to her side and wrapped her in a bony embrace, petting her hair as the enormity of what lay before her swallowed her whole.

Outside the tent, Phaedra’s voice was raised in command and a commotion ensued. Screams and a great clash accompanied howling winds. Phaedra’s wild magic. Wrenched out of her own despair by fear, Aurora straightened. Had the monstrosities already come for them? Was Phaedra alright? The flap of the imperial tent whipped open, the snap of the fabric drowning out Orithyia’s curse.

“Which one of you made her cry?” Phaedra howled as she stormed inside, her russet braids a windswept mess and her dark brown eyes burning like hot coals of hatred. Just as Aurora recovered from one fear, another arose. In this state, Phaedra was a true danger.

“Your tantrum is unacceptable, Princess. Leave at once!” Orithyia shouted above the din.

“Ah, so I’ll be courting Knowledge’s wrath then.” Phaedra grinned with malice. “I’m not surprised. Never liked you, and it seems She has poor taste.”

---