Page 12 of Daughter of the Serpent

Upon opening the wooden door to their quarters, Sylvie nodded to Hjalmarr who then moved to retreat back to his station. Tara slipped inside their rooms, and Sylvie moved to follow her, yet not before Hjalmarr silently reached for Sylvie’s hand, stopping her short. Cautiously he slipped something small and wrapped into her palm.

Taken aback by the unexpected gesture, Sylvie's eyes widened, though she made an effort to suppress her surprise. "Thank you," she whispered softly as he departed.

Disappearing behind the door, Sylvie quickly stashed the bundle in a concealed place, where she hoped it would escape Tara’s notice, not that it was difficult.

Tara already stood at the window, her hands behindher back, mercilessly picking at her fingernails, the storm of her emotions still not passed.

Sylvie entered the room silently, avoiding further disturbance, and giving Tara her space to breathe.

The room was just as they had left it, aside from freshened sheets. Like all of their quarters at the temple, walls stood bare and vacant, devoid of any and all personal touches, their focus on only the essential. Sparse furnishings, and neatly made beds, and a plain wooden table and chairs stood in stoic silence. A closet stood against one wall, its closed doors hiding away the only content of their personal belongings - their white robes. Their room’s purpose was simply practical and echoed the teachings of faith that revered a life of selflessness and discipline.

“I still cannot believe the injustice,” Tara huffed, her irritation evident. “We are the ladies of Light, the gods’ chosen! How dare he!”

Sylvie braced herself; now that they were alone, she knew the full force of Tara’s temper would be unleashed.

“They will never accept me, Tara,” Sylvie said softly, the resignation heavy in her words as she stepped closer. “I’m just sorry you were caught up in this. I shouldn’t have come today.”

Tara threw her hands in the air dramatically. “The village will be full of wagging tongues by morning with such a spectacle. And what about me? I cannot be involved in their whispers - I’ll ruin my prospects, any chance I have of marrying well!”

Sylvie reached for Tara’s hand, her own heart aching. She understood all too well how much status and marriage meant to Tara - in their world, it was everything. “You have nothing to worry about. Your reputation is spotless. No one will judge you for my missteps.”

Tara’s hand went limp, her frustration cracking. “But what if they do, Sylvie?”

Turning towards her, her eyes glistened. “What if they judge me for being your friend?”

“Then I won’t go with you next time,” Sylvie said, her voicetrembling slightly. “I’ll keep my distance - for both of us. I won’t let you ruin your prospects for me.”

Tara’s hand gripped hers more firmly, her eyes clearing suddenly, determination setting into the line of her shoulders. “No, they’ll come around. They have to! The gods spared you for a reason, even if those small - minded bastards refuse to see it.”

Sylvie shook her head in surprise.

“I will not lose you Sylvie, you're my friend and they will just have to accept that. Reputation be damned.”

“I appreciate your loyalty Tara, but I can’t let you suffer because of me. They’ll never stop seeing me the way they do. Maybe it’s best if we accept it.”

“Then you’ll just have to show them they’re wrong,” Tara said, her voice fierce. “Once you prove it - once you rise above all of this, pass the tests - they’ll have no choice but to accept you.”

Tara’s words hung in the air, a resonance of truth settling as she considered her words.

Perhaps Tara's perspective held merit; after the completion of her training as a healer and passing the elder’s tests, the opportunity for at least some form of respect may surface. From the moment of her dedication, she had delved into rigorous training, preparing for the moment when their knowledge and abilities would be put to the test at the gods' chosen time.

Yet the voice of doubt was quick to rush forward.

"The temple will have to proclaim me worthy." Sylvie uttered with a heavy sigh.

"Do you doubt their judgment?" Tara inquired, turning toward her, her brow furrowing.

"I don't know," Sylvie confessed, her gaze drifting to her hands. "None in the temple, besides maybe you and Godvik, believe it is possible. So, what am I to make of it?"

Godvik, one of the elders and a renowned Skald, had been among the first to welcome her when she had been surrendered to thetemple, and the first to take her under his wing despite the prejudices of the village. A gifted storyteller and scribe, he carried Mardova’s sacred history, and innate knowledge of the gods. Now in his older years, he had submitted to the ways of the elders, and offered his knowledge and mind to those who were willing - mainly the children of the light that hadn’t possessed potent magic, and could be trained to hold other positions within the temple.

Sylvie had been such a student.

“Well Godvik is a wise man.” Tara encouraged. “You should listen to him”

“I do, he is the only instructor who has truly taken me under his wing, and I am grateful.” Sylvie confided. “But, that doesn’t mean he’s right.”

"But you have Lafar’s eye!" Tara exclaimed. "Surely, that must mean something."

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