She cursed. Now they were going to get caught.

The voices grew louder from the way they came. Quickly, she opened the glass of the lantern and blew out the flame. Darkness wrapped around them. Mageia leaned Gris against a wall and he grimaced as he slid down to sit. With lantern in hand Mageia slipped across the darkness to the dead end's entrance. Standing against the wall, she prepared herself for a fight.

She peeked around the corner. Two Midlaan soldiers appeared deep in conversation. They gave no indication of suspicious behavior. Only one adjoined tunnel sat before where she hid, and she prayed they would take it. But instead, they continued walking. Either they will pass this dark tunnel or enter it. Mageia slid further into the darkness, readjusting her grip on the lantern.

"I am full of it," one soldier said with a deep voice. "If she doesn't tell me where she's been disappearing to, I'm gonna beat it outta her. And she knows I will."

"You do that, Gill," the older soldier said with a raspy voice. "Sometimes these women need to remember their place."

Mageia scrunched her nose and rolled her eyes.

"Beat her up a bit and threaten you'll turn her in to Checkings," the older soldier said. "That gets 'em every time."

"You should hear how she talks to me," Gill said. "Like I'm not her husband, like I'm not a damn soldier. I deserve to know where she be goin'. She belongs to me."

"She ain't cheatin?"

"Naw, I already beat that shit outta her," Gill said. "She just keeps claimin' she's shoppin', but I never see anything new in the house."

The two soldiers approached the tunnel and Mageia pressed her back against the wall. She held her breath as they passed by, barely giving the tunnel a single regard.

"What you need to do is make her Strange and throw her out," the older soldier said. "That's what I did to my second wife. Then I got me a pretty Hiilaan girl."

Mageia sighed with relief as they kept walking. Their disgusting conversation made her gut churn. When they disappeared around a corner, she returned to Gris.

"Are you okay?" She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and gasped. "You are burning up. I need to get you to a physician."

The Prince nodded then pointed into the darkness behind her. Mageia turned to see what it was, expecting to see the shadowdemon. But instead, there was a ladder. She went to investigate. It was old but sturdy and led up to a trap door.

"Where do you think it leads too?"

She heard Gris shuffle and spun around to see him struggling to his feet. She went to help him and brought him to the ladder.

"Grates lead outside. Trap doors exit within buildings."

"This could be a guard post."

"No. Below guard posts, they're smaller than bases."

"So, this could lead into a house maybe?"

"Trap doors only lead into royal property," Gris said. "I think we're beneath the temple."

"I'm going to see," she said.

"Be careful," he said.

"No. You stay awake," she said and began to ascend.

Every bar closer she prayed this door would open to a secluded location. Hamino's Temple was the largest temple in Ardania. With the AltAr adjoined to it and its connecting bridge, the temple was big enough to possibly hold everyone in Strana if the South border was attacked. The likelihood that she would pop her head into a room full of people, unnerved her.

She listened intently for any sounds of voices or footsteps and heard nothing. She felt around the door for the latch and turned it. The latch squeaked and the door moaned from being disturbed. Debris sprinkled onto her face. She wiped it off with her sleeve and kept turning the latch until she heard it unlock. The door pressed open with a sigh and a gush of cool air greeted her face.

She heard a grunt below her and glanced down. "Gris, what're you doing?"

"Shush," he said clinging onto the bar.

The sound of running footsteps echoed through the tunnels. Someone was coming and they were in a hurry.

Fear of it being the sorcerers urged Mageia to take another chance. Putting her fast-climbing skills to work, she surfaced onto land then helped the Prince. Once he was clear of the doorway, she closed it and relocked the latch.

She took in her surroundings to see where the exit had disposed them. They were within a storage closet with a wall full of swords, crossbows, daggers, and cloaks. Rope, shovels, whips, batons, shackles, and various abandoned items sat neatly on tables and the floor.

"This is my type of closet," Mageia grinned.

She tiptoed to the door, cracked it open, and peered through. Calm lights and no one in sight relieved her. She frowned and poked her head further. The stone walls were decorated in colorful story art. Pillars stood apart from the other on both sides of the hall. Doors to possible offices or chambers sat closed. Chaotic noise echoed into the hallway and Mageia couldn't trace which end it was coming from.

"We're in the temple."

"Good. It should be closed tonight, especially with riots in the streets."

"Riots? In Ardania?" she said staring at the boy lying awkward on the floor.

She closed the door and grabbed two black cloaks with hoods. Her eyes caught the sight of a beautiful dagger with gemstones in its handle and had to have it. Once they were dressed and ready to find their way out of the Temple of Hamino, they slipped from their hideout.

"We're in the basement," Gris whispered, voice raspy. He nudged his head in a direction and she helped him down the hall.

"Is there a physician in here you are familiar with?"

"No," he said. "But I know some of the priests here who are good."

"Now we have to just run into one of them," she mumbled.

They walked around a corner and approached an ascending stairway. Gris leaned against the wall and fell into a coughing spree.

"Gris are you okay?"

His breathing came in wheezes now. "It's just hard to breathe."

"Name one of the good priests so I can go and find him. I can bring you some help?"

"Just take me to the sanctuary," Gris said. "There should be someone there."

Mageia frowned and took hold of the injured Prince. She knew he had to be exhausted and in excruciating pain. To have walked so far from the Base in this condition, she hadn't realized he could literally drop dead from internal bleeding at any minute.

They ascended the winding staircase and exited an open door into another hall. Except this hall was wider and possessed high pillars of various colors with beautiful designs. In all her life of living in Ardania, she never ventured into Hamino's Temple. The temple guards and soldiers would always check every visitor before entering to make sure they had good intentions. Fair and Strange were allowed inside, but they were separated within the sanctuary.

Awe overwhelmed Mageia as they crossed the hall and entered the massive circular sanctuary. Thankfully, no one was around. Trash, pieces of clothing, masks, puddles of dried blood, and sacrificed animals had been left when the temple was cleared. The noise outside penetrated the walls as if they were made of paper. Yet, despite the mess, the temple was beautiful.

Four large double doors sat propped open, the only exits into the rest of the temple. Great chandeliers hung scattered about the ceiling, shining light on cushioned benches lined in a circle around a dais. One sacrificial alter sat in the center of the dais big enough to hold five human beings or animals. Smaller altars and shrines were built at the feet of the Divine Six.

The Divines sat in armchairs, dazzled in their gemstone and elaborate designs. Dawnis, the god of life and death shimmered with rubies. Danala, the goddess of nature and beasts appeared beautiful in emeralds. Naphri, the goddess of the heart and emotions, sat wise in her silver stones. Sadok, the god of water and strength, glared firm and mighty in his array of sapphire. Mesori, the goddess of air, weather, and seasons, glistened in crystals. And Rasaal, the god of the mind, knowledge, and wisdom appeared intimidating in his array of gold.

They all stole Mageia's breath. Not only have she met the gods, but she found out that most of them had gone rogue and didn't care about the souls of Valeera. That's why there must always be a Fairest.

Gris slouched over, coughing. His weight pressed her to put him down. She brought him to a bench, but the boy couldn't stay on it. She guided him to the floor so he wouldn't hurt himself further.

"I'm going to find someone," she said. She moved to leave, but Gris grabbed for her.

She took him by his trembling hands, unbearably hot. His coughing turned nasty, creating a sound she'd never heard before. A mixture of straining for air and gurgling. It sent ice through her veins. He pressed a hand to his exposed chest. Mageia could see red prints of Eron's hot hands blistered into Gris's skin. Especially around his neck. He squeezed his eyes closed in distress. Blood spat from his paled lips.

"Gris. Gris. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have had you walk so far."

"My chest," he said as blood dribbled from the side of his mouth.

His face was so swollen, his bruised eyes appeared sealed shut.

"Oh gods no. Gris, what should I do?"

"I can't breathe," he managed to get out.

Mageia clung onto his hands, and he squeezed so hard, her fingers grew numbed. She searched around frantically.

"Help! Someone, help! Please someone help!"

Gris' body jerked as he strained to catch his breath.

"Don't die Gris. Please don't. You should sit up."

She tried to move him, but it only made his struggle worse. The large vein in his neck popped vigorously from his paling skin. His pink lips were turning blue.

Mageia broke into a sob, realizing she could do nothing.

"Help," she cried holding his hands and leaning close to him.

"Magic please come on and do something," she mumbled tears dripping off her chin. "I'm so sorry. I can't let you die. You're such a good person."

My magic must do something. Do something. Please. I don't want him to die.

She shivered as the magic blossomed from within her heart this time. Not from her veins or the depth of her soul. It didn't gush like a rampaging waterfall. It simply slipped through her body, warm and gentle, even in her distress.

"I'm so sorry," she said wishing she could take away his pain.

He gave one last croak for air and slowly fell unconscious.

"You thought I was special," she cried not wanting to release his hands going still. She brought them to her lips and kissed them. The air around her twinkled purple like her own bubble of stars. Her hands hummed as the magic weaved out of them and into Gris. The feeling tickled, but she didn't let it distract her. Whatever was happening, it had to be good.

It had to be.

This kind boy was the prince of Ardania who could one day be king. He could change Ardania for better, but he cannot die before doing so.

Gris sucked in a sudden lungful of air, startling Mageia. She opened her eyes and could not believe what she saw. The Prince's veins were shimmering in a lavender purple, sliding up his arms, his chest, and to his face. He looked at peace until his eyes popped open.

They were bloodshot and so wide Mageia thought they'd pop out. He gulped another lungful of air, but this time it turned into screams. Agonizing, bloodcurdling, screams that punctured her soul. His grip tightened, preventing her from letting go. The harsh bruises on his face bubbled and healed. Mageia shuddered hearing bones within his torso crack and crackle.

His screams were ear-piercing and could've woken the gods from their thrones. Calling attention to anyone within earshot was far from her mind. She didn't care. He needed to live. When his amber complexion returned to his sweaty face and the swelling around his hazel eyes reduced to faint dark circles, she peeled out of his strong grip. Magic cutoff, his purple veins quickly dissolved back to normal.

The magic in the air seeped back into her body and exhaustion immediately followed. She fell to her elbow and was about to lie down beside him when movement caught her left peripheral.

She stood swiftly, unsheathing the dagger she stole with great skill. She knew she would have to face the inevitable of an audience, possibly a guard or a soldier. But the person staring back at her was neither. The positive energy surrounding this man strangely demanded her to stand down.

The middle-age ferry priest still wore his ceremonial garbs. Dark bags under his squinty pointed eyes said he was exhausted and now confused and above all, amused.

"You're her," he said as a statement rather than a question. He took a step forward and she raised the dagger despite her new magical sense's disapproval.

"I heard his cries. You healed him?"

"Um... I guess so."

The priest smiled. "You can relax. I will make sure you are left alone here."

"No. We will be out of your hair, I promise," she said.

"No. No. Gris is in no position to travel," he said then stepped forward.

Mageia held her dagger higher. "You know him?"

"I do. We've worked together many times," he said. "Allow me to offer my bed, food, clothing, and aid for him."

"We need to get going," she said.

"You can stay until sunrise," he said. "But if we linger here, the guards will come, and they'll never let you leave."

Mageia pondered his offer and glanced at Gris falling in and out of consciousness. She sheathed her dagger.

"Fine," she said.

The priest gave a warm smile and helped Mageia lift Gris onto his feet. They managed to carry him out of the sanctuary and down two separate halls to an open stairway. The priest had them ascend to the second floor where they walked a curving hallway of doors. To Mageia's surprise, they ran into no one which didn't cure her suspicions of the priest.

Was he one of the trustworthy ones? Her senses said yes, but she refused to rely on it.

He stopped at a door with his name engraved across it. LORD DORIAN NIGATO. And they entered.

Carefully, they lowered Gris into the priest's neatly made bed. Mageia sucked in the mint tea aroma of the priest's room coming from bowls of incense on a chimney. A tiny fire was in the hearth almost minutes away from dying, but it gave enough light to the room. A table with four chairs sat in front of the door and two armchairs sat in front of the chimney. The room had wooden walls and a rugged floor, a large two-door wall closet, dressers, a bookshelf, a desk against a wall, and an adjoined washroom.

Not only did the room feel inviting, but also warm and cozy.

"I will gather proper aid for him and some food and water for the both of you," he said.

"Thank you, Dorian."

They both looked at Gris, peering tired at the priest.

"Anything for you, Your Highness," the priest said and dashed from the room.

"So, you do know him?" she said sitting beside him.

He nodded. "He's good," he said very low.

She wiped the sweat from his brow with her cloak's sleeve.

"Rest now, okay. We can't stay here long," she said. "I know a place we can stay to keep us safe until we decide our next move."

"Where?" he said faint on his lips.

"A good friend of mine who lives in Midlaan," she said. Then a tear escaped her own eye, but it was filled with joy blossoming in her heart. "We have a lot to talk about, Gris."

"I know," he said.

"Plus. I would love for you to meet my family, the Lost Ones."

"The Lost Ones?" Gris gave a weary smile. "I would love that, my Fairest," he said and closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.