Oh be the Korek Proud,

Born of Chaos born of pain.

Oh be the Korek Proud

Saved by merciful Eten’a

-Korek Song of the Covenant

Gardinal pulled the door quietly behind him and rested against the wall for a moment. After several days of tense worry, Her Radiance had finally awoken. Relief escaped his lips for what felt like the first time in four days. She had never been unconscious for that long before. Never. And he hadn’t been there.

Leaving her had been his greatest mistake. He had been calloused with her safety. A mistake Gardinal would not make again. He was her shield, and he had been absent when she needed him most.

He could still feel her on the other side of the wall. Like she was calling to him. With aching bones, tender skin, and sore muscles he still yearned for her light. He wasn’t dying anymore. He had reluctantly gone to the temple to put a stop to that. But the moment he could walk again he had come right back to the pull of her light. Every heartbeat he had been away from her had been agony. Gardinal needed her goodness nearby.

But no, she was still too weak. Gardinal grunted but moved away from the wall. Her Radiance had barely been able to lift herself up and was far from recovered. That was his fault. He would have to wait. Then she could give him her light. Nothing compared to her light.

Gardinal himself could not measure up to the healing priests of the temple with their use of the light for healing. His own talents with Ethinia’s grace were something of an oddity among his order. The ability to strengthen himself seeming more Ferenic than Ethinian. His own attempts at healing usually went awry, soul leeching into himself more often than not. Yet, even then, the difference between he and a normal healing priest of Ethinia was not even a tenth of the difference between them and Her Radiance’s gifts. Nothing, nobody, not even the Bishop of Life himself, could compare to her. If a normal priests flow light was like a stream, bubbling through a forest, then she was raging river as wide as any Gardinal had seen. No, despite his lingering wounds Gardinal would wait to be healed by that river. A stream could never compare.

Pushing off from the wall, Gardinal looked down the corridor. Unrefined tapestries of flowers hung between the doors. Spaces of discoloured wood dotted the walls where some of the less appropriate paintings had been taken down at his request. That sort of degeneracy had no place in her Radiance’s presence.

“Ethinia's tears,” Gardinal cursed. “The Red Curtains of all places.” He shook his head. This was no place for the Prophetess to be. She was supposed to be surrounded by marble, gold and silk. Instead they found themselves among rotted wood, rusted iron, and fraying linen; not right at all.

Not that he could be the one to complain. His home reduced to nothing but ash due to his own inadequacy. If he had been home, she never would have left. Never would have been found by all those men. He could have protected her. But he had let valour bleed to pride. And had put her in danger to feed his own ambitions. Now X had gotten away, and Her Radiance had been put in danger. He had failed. Never again. Never.

Flexing his sore back, Gardinal began to do his patrol of the small building. Four days and he hadn't had a moment to properly investigate their new hideout. He had dreaded the thought of her waking up and him not being there. But now, she had awoken and was safe. Or as safe as she could be for the moment. Gardinal ground his teeth. There was still too much they didn’t know that could hurt her. Too much.

Gardinal moved down the creaking stairs, making sure the front door was properly locked. If attackers were to come, the front entrance would be the simplest route for them. Tabitha had assured him that she always had Silver Skull enforcers patrolling the Red Curtains at all times, but he could never be sure. Trusting others too much was what had led to this in the first place.

Gardinal found that the front entrance had been locked properly, and the rear as well. So he set to the windows, making sure they were all properly shuttered. A lantern swung from his side as he moved in and out of the rooms, every dark room making his heartbeat rise for a moment before illumination. Fear lingered in his mind since that day in the sewers. Daemons. His skin grew clammy at even the memories of them. The cult was capable of summoning daemons. Monsters from myths, come to life. What if they had sent those… things after Her Radiance? Was that something they could do? An illness filled Gardinal’s stomach at the thoughts. They knew far too little about this new threat. How much control did this cult have over the daemons they summoned?

Worse yet was X. Even remembering that pale face made Gardinal’s chest tighten. That man had seethed with such... evil. Gardinal had seen despicable acts in the war, had seen men, women, and children slaughtered. None of those scenes had turned his stomach as that one man had in those sewers. Against his oaths, Gardinal knew he needed to kill him. If he even could, he thought. Gardinal cursed. Never before had he felt so weak. So small in comparison to evil. Every Theremya he had fought in the Shaded Lands he had bested. Yet this one heretic left him feeling so small. Gardinal’s blood froze.

“No. They can be defeated. Daemons or not.” He reminded himself, reaching up to close a set of shutters left open in the pantry. Derenath and the Bishop had survived and though the cost in lives had been high, they killed the daemons as well. Only two faith militia had survived that candle lit cavern of a sewer. Two of the dozen they had led in. Gardinal stomach churned. That had been his choice. Those deaths were on his hands. Worse though, the summoner had escaped. Sneaking out while they were preoccupied with the Chaos spawn. Derenath and the Bishop survived. The Council of the Pantheon will surely act now, he assured himself.

This was all growing far too dangerous. What would he do if daemons or X came for the Prophetess? Gardinal didn’t feel ready. Didn’t feel strong enough yet. Reaching back, Gardinal felt the shield on his back. He would protect her, with his life if that’s what it came to. That was what he was born to do. The shield on his back was a reminder of that duty now. But it was also a comfort. In the sewers and outside his home it had proven a powerful ally.

Stepping out of the pantry, Gardinal glanced over at the last place he had to check. The cellar. A chill crawled over him. The dark stone staircase looking both too much like the sewers, not to mention the last time he was in a cellar. Gardinal felt a small bit of sadness for his lost home. He had never liked it all that much, but it was still a home. He’d have to talk to his brother about replacing it. That was for another time though, for now Gardinal stepped down into the darkness of the cellar.