Page 76 of The Oracle of Dusk

A crack of thunder woke her moments before the door to the bedroom was swung open. Lightning flashed in the darkened room, painting two paladins of Knowledge in vivid detail. They marched inside and dragged her from the bed without so much as an explanation.

“Theron!” Aurora cried.

But as she searched the room for him, it was apparent he was gone. She was alone in whatever was to come.

Arms pinned and tied behind her back, Aurora was roughly ushered from the guest palace and into the rain, across empty, muddy streets and towards the temple of Knowledge. Outside, men and women wailed, waiting on the steps as acolytes kept them from entering.

Had Theron betrayed her after all? Traded her disloyalty to Orithyia and the secret hoard of artefacts for his release? Her magic uncoiled inside her, a beast scenting her rising panic. Orithyia had threatened to have her tongue pulled out, her eyes blinded, and her feet cut off. Aurora instantly regretted not sleeping with the protective artefact around her neck. She’d been such a fool to trust he would be an ally.

As she was dragged into the temple, everywhere was packed full of the sick and dying, temple medics rushing between patients, desperate to keep them from death. The children outnumbered the adults five to one. This was the plague of torchlight fever. Children lay on threadbare blankets as acolytes pressed wet compresses to their heads, others urging them to drink a bitter brew. Adults who had succumbed were removed from their places on the floor, only for it to be filled moments later. And everywhere, the moaning of the patients mingled with the harried commands of the medics.

Aurora was pushed through the narrow, wending path between the victims and up stairs where even here, patients lay. The second floor was nearly as crowded as the first. It was only the third that was devoid of patients but instead crammed with clerics either passed out in corners, their clothes dirty and their hair dishevelled, or staring blankly at walls with dark circles under their eyes, unable to rest amidst the clamour. It was through all this suffering that Aurora was ushered until at last she was made to kneel at Orithyia’s feet in a private chamber.

“Leave us.”

The priestesses left, closing the door on their way out, and the din instantly silenced. Here, Aurora could hear her own ragged breaths, the rush of blood roaring in her ears as her heart tried to escape the cage of her ribs. She tried to marshal her magic to her bidding but it remained elusive, like grabbing hold of rushing water. Orithyia touched the tip of her switch to Aurora’s cheek, just below her eye.

“Tell me all you know about this hero you mentioned. The avatar of Justice.”

It took a moment to register that the high priestess had not dragged her here to dispense with gruesome punishment. Or confront her with the theft of the artefacts. Theron hadn’t betrayed her then. But why was she asking about this now, when the plague should be taking up all her resources? Where had Theron gone?

Orithyia scowled.

“I have a city beset by plague, and no spare time for your dawdling. Do I need to use the switch, girl?”

“No! No,” Aurora assured her. “I don’t know what more I could tell you. The hero of the holy sword possesses both wild and divine magic, as I said, and as far as I know, that has always been the case. He’s made an avatar of Justice before Drakon comes to Trisia. His mission has always been to seal the beast away.”

“And after the beast is sealed, what then?”

“I…I don’t know. His life after that is never really mentioned.”

Aurora didn’t even know the first hero’s name—no one did. So much history had been lost throughout the cycles of chaos and calamity that some periods had no more than a few distinct potsherds to define them by.

Her scowl deepened.

“You said Drakon brings a veritable apocalypse with it. This hero, he seals the beast away alone? How?”

Aurora swallowed, her magic twisting inside her chest. She didn’t trust this Orithyia, not with her secrets or her safety.

“I can only surmise it has to do with the weapon he wields.”

The first lash came without warning. Fire raced down from her cheek to her chest. Aurora screamed, curling in on herself. The high priestess had struck like a viper.

“You think I don’t know by now when someone is lying to me? The next time I use this,” she tipped Aurora’s head up with the end of her switch so that their eyes met, “I will not be so generous as to avoid your eyes.”

“I-I’m supposed to help,” Aurora replied, her eyes swimming with tears.

“You?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“My wild magic.”

“What is someone with wild magic doing serving in a temple?”

She’d forgotten. In the past, those with wild magic never served in the temples, instead being pressed into service with the royal houses. That had only begun to change recently in Aurora’s time.

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