Page 85 of The Source of Storms

“Run then, girl. You will not hide from me forever. I saw you. I saw you… I saw you.”

Those final words echoed in my head as I awoke with a gasp on the hard cot. I flung out my awareness, reaching for power, searching for any presence in the pitch black of the room. But I was alone.

I did not sleep again that night.

∞∞∞

Gray light shone through a high window. Heavy iron bars were visible across it, dull and black against the pale sky, to my dismay although not to my surprise. I was to be a prisoner here, just like Eilith. Some cog in their political wheel, some chess piece to play when it suited them. The gods damned bastards.

Food and water were brought shortly after dawn by the same terse woman. She removed the bucket and brought it back empty.

“High Priestess Zisorah will see you soon. You are to treat her with respect,” the woman said.

“Oh, the woman who locked me in here? Who’s holding me prisoner? Who sent her minions to gut innocent people in the streets of my city? Respect begets respect. I’ll show it only where it’s due,” I said venomously.

She glared at me from the doorway. “Then you will learn what happens if you do not.”

“What’s your name?” My question seemed to catch her off guard. She hadn’t considered introducing herself to me.

She paused, then said, “Deacon Tessivia. You’ll do wise to listen to my instruction.” And then, in her usual sharp manner, she turned and was gone.

As soon as she left I sent my awareness out after her, out beyond the walls of the room. My head still ached, although it was more of a dull thudding than the pounding roar it had been. Nonetheless, it made focusing my awareness more difficult.

It wasn’t just the headache and exhaustion from the battle the previous day. The same wards I had felt in the Temple before were still at work, even heavier here. My awareness was muffled, muted, as if looking through dirty water. It felt like my ears were plugged but, frustratingly, wouldn’t pop.

I could feel two guards posted outside my door, feel Deacon Tessivia walking away down a long corridor, although she faded from my sensing quickly. I reached in the other direction, outside the Temple, and found my awareness ended entirely at the stone walls. The solid and impermeable wards held it back.

I was alone. Helpless, feeble, ineffectual. A feeling I had never wanted to experience again, had fought and trained and practiced for the last year and a half to never feel again. I tried to summon my power repeatedly, even just simple spells of force to slam against the door. They resulted in little more than knocking, barely rattled the heavy door in its hinges. My frustration warped to anger, then ballooned to fury.

I moved about the cell, squatting, jumping, shadowboxing. I ran through a usual warmup from training, then a long stretch. My whole body ached in response, but I couldn’t sit still.

Hours passed. Most of the day maybe, until I finally heard the clack of heeled shoes approaching down the hall. They stopped in front of my cell door; it creaked open. I sat on the cot and leaned back against the wall.

The High Priestess swept in. She wore a simple, trim gown of gold. Her face was completely enveloped in a mask again, but this one was made of black fabric with visible structured boning. It reminded me of a corset. Like the gold one from our previous meeting, it bowed out over her face.

“Welcome back to the Temple, Halja,” she said. Still pompous, but without the air of graciousness she had used when addressing us all from her throne.

“A pleasure,” I sneered.

“I understand that you may be displeased with the way you were relocated here. And your new accommodation.” She glanced around the room.

“Displeased? Displeased?! Ha! Yes, I amdispleased. Consider this my formal complaint.”

“Come now, we can do this in a civilized manner, Halja.”

“Oh, you want a civilized manner?!” I stood. She was taller than me in those heels, but I moved closer regardless. “What was civilized about capturing me by force? What was civilized about burning down the homes of innocent people? What was civilized about slaughtering families in the streets of Rhyanaes? What was civilized about–”

A crack of pain snapped across my face, like I had been hit with an invisible fist. I stumbled back a few steps and caught myself against the wall. Heat and blood bloomed from a split lip.

“There certainly wasn’t anything civilized about that.” My voice was a low growl, laced with rage.

“No, there wasn’t. But until you show me you’re capable of respectful, dignified communication like two ladies of reason, then that is how this will be.”

“Well then...” I wiped the blood from my mouth. “From one ‘lady of reason’ to another –– fuck you.”

This time the strike hit me in the body first, an upper cut to my solar plexus that made my stomach spasm. Another blow landed on the side of my head, rocking me back. The third hit landed in my ribs, the tender places that had just been repaired. I crumpled to the floor by the cot. My vision swam and the room spun.

“We could be allies, you know,” the High Priestess said. “We could usher in an era of peace together, with our combined power. You could lead your people into a brighter future with the guidance of the Light. And you could free yourself right now, if you pledge yourself to me, to Enos. The choice is yours.”

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