I was a mage. Somehow my hands draw sigils with knowledge of creation that I cannot remember learning. With each manipulation of this world’s elements, I feel a familiar sense of being. I can see them—the threads of Light that create all life. This I remember. The blessing that allows us comprehension of all that is.

ARC 5 - PARACLETE

CHAPTER 12 - ACQUAINTED

Victoria gently pressed the book closed and set it on the table beside her bed. Another story finished; a happy ending for all involved. Reading that final page always brought a feeling of emptiness. Was that truly it? The end of the tale so absolute that not a single related event ever occurred again? Or was it just the place where things become normal and unworthy of record? Believable, maybe, yet somehow just as frustrating as an entire life boiled down to a few measly statements that brought the whole story to a sudden end.

She huffed and swung her legs up onto the soft mattress before falling back into a pile of pillows. Being stuck inside the palace after the attack in the market several days ago had afforded her nothing but time to read and that was the last of the texts she'd brought. Now there wouldn’t be anything else to do. Raegn was healed enough to stand guard outside her door again, but not anywhere close to being up for sparring with Nora. It wasn’t the most exciting thing to watch, but at least it had been something.

When he'd been bedridden those first few days, Nora had wandered the halls with her whilst she searched for Tanis in the maze of sandstone and gold. They never found her. The servants they asked all told various stories of where the Crown Princess might be. None proved true. Victoria willingly trapped herself in her room ever since and let Edolie handle getting food and the like. The handmaid seemed happy about that particular state of affairs - the plump woman had nearly fainted after learning of the ambush and had no desire to let Victoria out of her sight unless she remained in her room.

Victoria had managed to calm her sole retainer, though it took far more effort than usual. Prodding at someone’s soul like that was such a nuanced thing. Sometimes it came easily, like shaping wet clay. Other times it was like smashing down a wall with a small hammer. No matter how hard or often she tried, there was little hope of ever getting through. Not unless she could find a bigger hammer.

She reached behind her, grabbing one of the pillows and hugging it tightly to her chest. If only she could get more time with Tanis. It was a dangerous game to play, she knew, but the time they spent was both enjoyable and fruitful. Little pricks here and there, silent suggestions of her unseen hand, and she could fuel the Crown Princess’s already bursting energy. Excitement easily overrode inhibition and kept Tanis talking on whatever topic happened to cross her mind - or one that Victoria harmlessly asked after.

A frown crossed her lips, accompanied by a pang of guilt at influencing the one person that hadn’t tried to assault or demean her. She’d used her ability often once she’d realized what it was several years ago, but largely in innocuous situations involving those around her. Calming a servant who had spilled her tea, placating a steward scolding a maid, or cheering up a gardener forced to work in the rain were all innocent in nature. But never for breaking down someone’s inhibitions or spurring them to action and certainly never on her father, not that he didn’t make use of it.

To everyone else Victoria simply seemed the diligent and dutiful princess, always present and involved in the affairs of her kingdom. To the King, she held a talent too clever to waste - a way to validate the character and intent of all those who were granted an audience. Rather than push or influence, she would simply feel; run her hands along the shape of the person’s soul. Their words always had a way of filling out their shape…or leaving horrid cracks.

It was a routine so practiced that over a year ago it had become second nature. Anyone in the same room as her was read, whether she intended to do so or not. Influencing them was what took effort - and what she was woefully careful to restrain. She’d first done it when she caught the young stable boy flirting with a maid. The red mark left on his cheek might as well have been placed squarely on hers. That guilt had never gone away.

The wrinkles in her chin deepened as Victoria recalled how she’d done the same to Raegn only days ago. Her ability was of the Light, that much she’d gathered over the years, but there was so much of it she was ignorant to. Mainly why it didn’t always work, like how she’d been unable to calm the Justicar in the carriage when he’d learned of the portal nearby. She might as well have been trying to stop the sea from making waves. He and Nora were both a wall almost constantly, a state she reasoned had something to do with the high affinity that beget their Justicar status. They did slip occasionally, though.

She’d felt Raegn shift to clay after he’d beaten Nora in their little duel. Like a sudden light that blinded the eyes after being in the dark, his stalwart soul had opened up in joy. She’d grasped at it, more out surprise given the countless days she’d been idly trying rather than with any actual intent to. It came so abruptly she didn’t even realize what she’d forced on him. The book in her hands had been a tale of two lovers. Her attention broke from it just in time to see his aberrant move in response. She let go as soon as she noticed her part in the action, of course, but that only left him helpless to Nora’s retaliation. The two would have made a good pair, at least in her eyes, but Heavens above, she’d felt so depraved for intruding on something so inherently personal.

One of the down feathers pricked her cheek as she tried to bury her face into the pillow in shame.

Fitting, she groused, then brought her attention to the door.

There was talking outside. The voices of a man and woman. Only one of each. Raegn and Nora? She frowned. Her two Crownguard always talked in hushed tones so that she couldn’t hear. It had to be someone else. Not Tirin, though, thankfully.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory, but she stood from her bed in preparation to meet whoever was likely to be let in. Realizing she still clutched the pillow like a small child, she tossed it back with the others just as the door swung open. To her surprise, it was Tanis that stepped stiffly into the room. Raegn left his hand on the door, waiting to catch her eye.

Do you want me to stay?

His lips never moved, yet she felt him ask. Hesitation weighed on him. He didn’t want to leave her alone with one of their hosts.

“It’s alright,” Victoria said and waved for him to close the door.

His eyes were hardly visible beneath his helm, but she did catch them narrow some before they disappeared behind the wooden barrier. Tanis continued to wander her way about the room, ignorant of Victoria’s eyes following her every step. The Crown Princess was wearing her usual dull pants and tunic, suggesting she'd been within the palace rather than out in the city where flowing robes of elegant orange and red were more appropriate. She stopped where a jug of wine had been left some hours earlier and poured herself a glass. An empty chalice was held up in offering, but Victoria politely declined. It’d been left untouched for a reason. Wine and the like had a tendency to make one sloppy. Tanis shrugged, took a long drink, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You must be thirsty,” Victoria noted. Tanis gave a light laugh. To most, it would've seemed genuine. Victoria felt the hollowness of it, though. The amusement was forced. She reached out, pressing against things she couldn’t see and hoping to find somewhere soft to place an unseen hand.

“Father’s been keeping me very busy lately,” the Crown Princess said, then threw back the rest of the glass in a single go.

“Oh?” Victoria kept searching. All she could find was rigid and tough. Something had her on edge and there wasn’t anywhere for her to suggest the thought of relaxing. Nowhere to pull at a string and unwind Tanis’s tension.

“Doesn't leave much time to think. Makes it hard to find time for the things that matter.”

Tanis crossed the room in several robust strides and planted her hands firmly on Victoria’s waist. She paused for a moment, her face so close that Victoria could smell the wine on her breath. Another desperate search. Nowhere to grab hold.

The Crown Princess pushed her. The backs of her knees hit the bed, she toppled backward, and before Victoria could even move the hair from her face, she found Tanis crawling on top of her. A crescent necklace freed itself from between Tanis’s breasts and slid along Victoria’s stomach as the Crown Princess pulled herself upward. A single drink hadn’t reddened those olive cheeks before. And Victoria had never seen such a hungry look in those brown eyes.

Tanis leaned in close, her chest faintly pressing against Victoria’s. “I am not my brother,” she whispered. “If you ask me to stop, I will.” She paused for a moment, as if to search Victoria’s eyes for hesitation. Or allow her a moment to consider what was being offered. Instead, Victoria used the brief break to search more thoroughly. The wall hadn’t softened, but she felt it change. Or perhaps saw it, despite her ability not giving anything to actually see. Still, there was the smallest amount of fear, a passing shadow of apprehension, that flickered across Tanis’s soul.

The Crown Princess was nervous. Her desire so strong that Victoria couldn’t find a place to influence it, but worry lingered in the background. Tanis had shown herself to be many things the past season and a half. Headstrong and spirited were chief amongst them, but genuine was on the list, too. There wasn't any ill intent that Victoria could find, which meant Tanis's fear stemmed from the heart. She was afraid of rejection. Afraid her feelings wouldn't be reciprocated.

Victoria only managed half a nod before Tanis locked their lips together.

She slid her hands up Victoria’s arms, pushing both hands above her head and then pinning them there with a single grip. The idea of leaving herself so vulnerable didn’t even cross Victoria’s mind. She was too focused on the warmth of the lips aggressively pressing against her own; absorbed in the blanket of a soft, comforting weight resting over her; lost in the smell of desert flowers on the strands of black hair that tickled her cheeks.

Tanis’s kiss firmed, pressing harder and deeper. Her weight began to shift and settle atop Victoria’s hips while the hand holding her wrists together tightened. A pleasant struggle against Victoria’s desire to feel the motion of the body atop her with something other than her own. Somewhere in that grip, a fragile thing gave way, accompanied by a faint pop. Tanis stopped abruptly at the sound and looked up past Victoria’s eyes to where she’d held her prey.

All the fervor coursing through Victoria’s blood died like a candle robbed of its flame. The yearning red in her cheeks was traded for a fearful white.

“Wear this at all times. If you’re ever in trouble, cover it with a hand and crush it against your arm. Raegn and I will come.”

It had been the first day they’d met; already on the road to Shaktika and after the debate and subsequent closure of the Void portal. Victoria hadn’t forgotten Nora’s instruction, nor had she ever failed to follow it.

“Oh, no.”

Hinges clung to their setting by luck alone. The door met the sandstone wall like a clap of thunder. Two eyes, gleaming like sharp stars in the night, stood out from the bleak entry. Victoria cried out, one hand raised in protest and the other trying to move the frozen Tanis from atop her. She hadn’t the strength. Hadn’t the time. She threw the weight of her emotion outward, desperately trying to pacify her protector. It was like a sparrow flying into a window. The promise of triumph visible, but entirely hopeless. The Crown Princess wouldn’t budge. Her Crownguard was unyielding in his duty. The only person in the entire city who had been kind to her was going to die.

Raegn reared back and his weapon lit like steel from a forge. Another clap of thunder. The spear took to the air like a bolt of lightning across the room.

And buried itself into the wall several feet above Tanis’s head.

All was still.

Nora seemed surprised she’d been able to deflect the attack. Her sword still hung low and was gripped tightly as if she might have to use it again while the side door wobbled from its rebound off the wall. Tanis eyed the shaft that wiggled above her head with all the innocent wonder of a babe. In the main doorway, Raegn slouched, then staggered forward into the nearest chair whilst clutching his side.

“Are you all right?” Nora asked.

At first, Victoria thought her to be asking her partner, but the Justicar’s—her Crownguard’s gaze, was set on the two of them atop the bed.

“You both…” Tanis gave a single, dismayed laugh. She reached up and steadied the spear. “I should’ve figured.”

Nora bit her lip and pressed her eyes closed for a long moment.

“Don’t worry.” Tanis waved her hand idly. “I’ll keep the secret, same as I’ve done for you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Nora murmured, her head hung in solemn appreciation.

Tanis snorted at the formality and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. It was the graceful swing of the leg that accompanied the dismount from on top of her that forced Victoria to realize the implications of the scene her two Crownguard had so abruptly subjected themselves to. There were many things the heir of Elysia should keep to themselves - she’d been regularly reminded of them all since she was old enough to speak. One’s intimate affairs were high on the list, especially when they were of a more...deviant nature. It wasn't as though this was a common occurrence. It was the first, actually, not that that would stop every servant in Elysium from speaking of it were she to have been caught back in her own castle. Victoria's cheeks reddened again, though not for anything resembling excitement.

“Think I tore open the stitches,” Raegn groaned from the chair.

A merciful distraction. One Victoria was immensely thankful for, despite it coming at her Crownguard’s physical expense. Nora sheathed her sword and made her way over. Indeed, when she pulled his hand away, the palm was wet and red. She helped Raegn from his seat and bustled him into their room without so much as another word, leaving Victoria to deal with the embarrassment of the evening’s interrupted activities on her own.

“Well,” Tanis said, “that wasn’t quite the thrill I was hoping for tonight.” She flashed a quick smile before hopping off the bed. “Perhaps it’s best we continue another time?”

“S-sure,” Victoria stammered.

“Only if you’re willing, of course.”

“I am,” she answered, forcing more confidence into her voice.

“Good.” Tanis whirled about, hands clasped behind her as she bounced her way out of the room.

Victoria waited for a long while after the latch had clunked shut before she rolled over and hid her face in a pillow. It wasn’t long before creeping thoughts of doubt began to claw at her mind. Was that why Tanis was always willing to talk with her? Not because of some intricate mind game the Crown Princess was trying to play, but because of a desire much more personal? And, if the latter truly was the reason, then were those emotions even real, or the result of Victoria’s own haphazard influence? Fate was always right to issue a reminder of the consequences her affinity carried. Unseen as it might seem at first, the result always surfaced. Eventually.

Victoria kept her face buried in the pillow while she groaned. Flailing against the mattress failed to take away her shame.

Tera stood in the center of the crimson rug, its edges lined with golden stitching. The position put her directly in front of a desk and left her squarely in the rigid gaze of the man in elegant white robes sitting behind it. Archbishop Lemonath was an avid reader, given the number of books lining the shelves at the back of his office. Each work was placed with its spine in rather than out, perhaps to indicate that he’d read them all. All save for the single text left atop his desk. Tera tried to glean a title from it, but couldn’t discern any words on the rich green cover in the dim light provided by the braziers along the walls.

“You’ve chosen something a bit…different?” Archbishop Lemonath said, noting the feathers on the shoulders of her cloak. “It feels mournful, were I to hazard a description. Something you wish to explain?”

No, Tera thought, but resigned herself to some short explanation anyway. She wasn’t here of her own volition. The faster she learned of the reason for her summons the sooner she could get back to Merced. The grouchy Inquisitor hadn’t left her alone since the night of her trial two moons ago, but at least he’d been keeping her busy. And that meant she had an excuse to not visit Harut. Her fist clenched briefly at the thought of the Angel.

“The night the Order first encountered the Void in the city, before I went into that basement and faced death, I watched a blackbird fly off,” she recounted. “At the time I wished for that sort of freedom. I was only a Templar then. Now,” her hand went to the mask she’d fastened to her shoulder. “Freedom comes in different forms.”

If only it were real, she added, but kept the thought to herself. There was also the practical application of the clothing she chose to wear, but such detail wasn't necessary to give to a member of the Church. A peaceful benefactor need not know of how she intended to fight.

“A tribute then, in a sense,” the Archbishop said. “Commendable, to take inspiration from life’s darkest moments." He paused, waiting to see if she wished to share anything else. At her silence, he continued. "Very well. I suppose you wish to know why I’ve summoned you?”

“Please.”

“It’s quite simple.” Lemonath clasped his hands atop his desk, careful to place his arms in front of the sole book atop the smooth wood. “We are in unprecedented times. One would think, or hope, perhaps, that such uncertainty would spark unity.” He frowned in a moment of contemplation. “That has not been the case. Fear divides us. The Order, despite our requests, continues to hide the Angels. It hoards their power and the hope they provide for unknown reasons.”

The Archbishop raised a staying hand at the questioning cock of Tera's head. “Highlord Orgeron is right to protect them," Lemonath told her. "And yes, he’s dispatched Justicar and Templar alike to counter the Void that enter the Realm, but I wonder about any sort of long-term plan. It is known that the Angels must ascend if we are to stand against the darkness in the coming years, yet I’ve heard whispers of other options. And again the Order deflects and conceals.”

Tera bid herself to remain still and match the gaze levied against her. “What are you asking, Archbishop?”

“Considering the current state of affairs, I found myself in need of someone trustworthy. You and your sister are of the most righteous blood I could think of, though Norabel is currently otherwise occupied.” Lemonath smiled, the corner of his mouth doubling the number of wrinkles in his cheeks. “I wish for you to keep an ear to the ground when you are within the Citadel. I fear the Order thinks itself above the Church simply because a war approaches. There is no stability in a fight for power. Only when we are one, sharing both hope and information, do we stand a respectable chance. I request that you report anything you learn directly to me.”

Someone else that only wanted what her position would provide. Is this what Nora and Raegn dealt with? Pulled this way and that by shadowed hands? Surely not.

Tera eyed the robed man sitting proudly behind an ornate desk. All those books lined neatly behind him. He was knowledgeable. Any leader worth their weight was. But Harut had offered power in trade for information. Lemonath had remarkably little in contrast.

Only on the surface, she reminded herself. Seasons ago Merced had taught her that Archbishop Lemonath technically controlled a majority of the Low Council. He could then, if he so wished, press his will upon the Order. Harut had kept her from becoming a full Justicar, but Lemonath could feasibly remove her from the Order entirely were that to strike his fancy. Not an equal trade. One thing given for the simple preservation of another. No alternate options, either. She wondered if that was intentional.

“Of course, Archbishop,” Tera said with a slight bow.

Leland Lemonath rose from his chair, taking a position in front of a painting of the Citadel hung on the wall and mirrored on the far side of the room by one of the Church.

“You are in an interesting position, Terosa,” he said. Tera tried to hide the wince at the use of her full name. “Both Justicar and mage. Two entities once at peerless odds. A first, to be sure.”

His head turned in a thoughtful gaze to the side.

“I hope you remember that, above all, you serve something higher.” His eyes flicked over to her. “Something the Church represents.”

“Of course, Archbishop.”