Page 92 of The Source of Storms

Deacon Tessivia appeared from somewhere beside me.

“Foolish girl,” she hissed in my ear. “Daris, bring her shoes, now!” she barked at one of my escorting anchorites, who vanished back into the doorway behind us.

But my eyes were on the fountain, on that sacred water. I needed to feel it, needed to put my hands in it, just one last time. One last time before I gave myself up. Before I relinquished what it would mean to me.

I began to walk toward it.

“What are you doing?” Tessivia hissed in a whisper, stomping after me. “Stop right there! You’re not to walk across the courtyard until they are prepared for you inside the throne hall. And put your shoes on.”

Daris had returned with my shoes, and helped shove them on to my now dirty feet. Across the courtyard in the throne hall doorway, High Priestess Zisorah appeared, her face wrapped in another featureless mask: This one a smooth maroon with intricate gold filigree and a two-tiered arching gold headdress rising up in hoops behind it. From the hoops dangled gold pendants and charms that flashed in the sun.

I could see nothing of her face, but I felt her gaze hit me. I stopped in my tracks, rooted to the spot. But the fountain still called to me. I took another cautious step forward and I felt the High Priestess’s power hit me like a slap in the face, even from that distance. It sparked blue-black and hot against my skin. Just a warning.

Yet the power I felt shimmering in the sacred fountain beckoned me still. It sang into my bones with the same primordial power I remembered from the Arcaena River. Wherever that river was sourced from, this spring was the same.

I took a deep breath, savoring the clear, bright air. I forgot all the eyes on me, forgot the courtyard packed with royalty, disregarded the onlookers. There was only me, High Priestess Zisorah, and that spring.

I took one step forward, then another. More boldly now that there was no reaction from Zisorah. Just the daggers of the cold stare I knew she lanced at me from beneath her mask. But she couldn’t do it here. She couldn’t hurt me, torture me, make me writhe in the dirt in agony in front of these people. No, she needed them to see I was willing. Needed them to see that the power of Enos could turn even a wretched fae like me into something worthy. I walked forward more boldly still, straight for that spring.

The Dark One’s voice rolled through my skull like thunder, facetious and spiteful.

“Careful, child. She is to be your salvation. Yet you risk her temper like this? When you are so close to being free of me?”

I stumbled as my knees locked with instinctual terror. But I answered him, inside my head, where he seemed to dwell without respite now.

“One last chat before I’m rid of you forever? Kind of you to say goodbye.”

“You don’t want to be rid of me, girl. You know this. You defy her because you want me. You risk your escape because, secretly, you do not want to go. Secretly you have come to adore me.” His deep voice echoed in disturbing sensual decadence that made my stomach lurch.

I remembered the images he had sent to me in dreams. His heavily muscled body. His long, sharp teeth dragging along my neck. The feel of him in my mouth. My gut twisted and my face flushed with shame, with fear.

“You are mine, Halja,” he growled. “Mine by flesh and burned virtue, mine by body and blood. You will come to me!”

I cried out in horror and frustration, torn in too many directions. I could not be rid of him. I could not forget what he felt like. I dreamed only of cleansing myself, purifying myself from his touch. I needed Zisorah’s help, needed her to save me. But I longed to touch that sacred water, just once. I must.

From her place on top of the stairs outside the grand Temple doors, the High Priestess raised her arms in welcome to the crowd.

“My lords, my ladies, the good and blessed people of Avanis. Today, we welcome another servant of Enos into our esteemed halls. Today, we witness the miracle of His healing. Today, we cleanse this poor, lost fae soul of her darkness, her shadow nature. It is my–”

A long, haunting howl split the air from somewhere far behind the Temple walls. Another joined it, closer and to the west. Then another. In the chorus of haunting songs, Zisorah lost the attention of the crowd and stumbled over her practiced speech.

Those howls snapped me from my desperate indecision. I knew those voices. Two of them, those behind the Temple, closer to the forest, were true wolves. Vardir and Garmr. The others were human voices, crying out with them. My heart began to hammer in my chest, and my adrenaline spiked. Something was coming.

Over the Temple walls, at several points around the courtyard, came Rangers. They rappelled nimbly down from the walls while several others stayed crouched above, firing arrows at the guards stationed on the inside to cover their descending counterparts. More climbed over and jumped deftly down, rolling acrobatically and springing up to dash for nearby guards. Keepers followed, blades flashing in the morning sun.

The Ironguard had come.

They raced into the courtyard, engaging guards as the audience scattered. Several made straight for the High Priestess, and she threw a shield of shimmering divine power in front of her and flung them back with force. I seized the moment of her distraction and sprinted for the fountain. It called to me, rang in my bones, tugged at the fibers of my muscles. I did not know why, but I knew I needed to immerse myself in it.

The gates of the Temple flew open, and I heard the shouting and footfalls of more Keepers and Rangers entering the fray behind me. But I had only one focus. I reached the fountain and plunged my hands into the cool water, splashing it over my face. The dark voice in my mind growled in menacing disapproval, and I took it to mean that I was doing something right.

“Stop her! Get the fae creature!” the High Priestess screamed over the discord, her voice cracking with anger.

“Stop, you foolish girl!”The voice hissed. “You are mine! You will be mine!”

“I am no one’s but my own!” I screamed aloud, unsure which of them I was speaking to. “I will not be yours! I will not be yourgods damnedpawn! I will be no one’s property or plaything! I will be free! And I will have my fucking vengeance!”

I climbed over the edge of the stone fountain and flung myself in.

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