Chapter 32

The Task

The clearing fell into a tense silence as the seven priestesses circled Mags and Calcabrina. Their faces, blindfolded but not unseeing, were eerily calm, a contrast to the pounding of Mags’ heart. The leader of the group—or at least Mags thought she carried the air of someone with rank—stood a step ahead of the others. She was tall and slender, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders with bangs nearly covering her blindfolded eyes, and her tan skin gleamed in the faint light filtering through the crimson leaves of the Sanguine Trees.

Calcabrina’s eyes widened as she recognized her. “Isidora,” she called out, her voice tight but controlled. “This is all a mistake. You know me. You know you can trust me. We were just about to leave. I was taking her back to the towers.”

But Isidora’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her lips pressed tighter together. “You’ve trespassed on sacred ground,” she said, her voice even but cold. “Both of you will be taken before Shrine Maiden Celestine to be judged.”

Mags stiffened as the priestesses began to inch closer, their robes whispering against the ground, bare feet inaudible against the smooth river stones. Her feet shuffled instinctively, trying to keep her distance, but her heel bumped against the lip of the well. She glanced down, a brief flicker of unease rippling through her as she remembered the hundreds of eyes she’d seen staring at her from within. In that moment, the well seemed very much like a maw, waiting to swallow her whole if she lost her footing.

Despite the outward hostility of the priestesses, Calcabrina remained calm. Her face softened. Her voice was gentle as she took a step toward Isidora. “Come on, Isidora,” she said, her words coaxing, soothing. “You know I respect these grounds. You know me. We’ll leave quietly, and you can stop pretending. You don’t need to do this.”

She reached out, her hand extending toward the taller girl. A hand seeking the touch of an old friend.

“Don’t take another step,” Isidora snapped, her voice slicing through the air like a whip.

Calcabrina froze, her hand hanging in the space between them. Mags could feel the shift immediately—an invisible vibration of power in the air, a subtle pull of aether gathering toward Isidora. What am I seeing? she thought. It was like particles of light being pulled in a vortex towards Isidora. Is that her channeling aether? It was too faint to tell, and she had never noticed it before. Mags’ breath caught as she felt it, the same sensation she experienced when Malacoda demonstrated the basics of Soulsinging.

Silver script flashed in the corner of her vision but was gone in a blink.

[Passive Skill: Aura Vision.]

[Level: E-4]

Isidora threw her hand forward, and the ground around them rumbled. Gold chains, glowing with aetheric energy, erupted from beneath them, phasing through the ground as though it were water. The chains snapped through the air with a sharp metallic hiss.

Before Mags could react, Calcabrina’s form rippled, shifting in a blur of motion. In the blink of an eye, she had transformed—her human form replaced by the powerful, bestial shape Mags had only seen once before. Long, muscular body, white fur, a scaled face and the same horns that typically crowned the young woman’s head. Calcabrina’s claws were sharp and gleaming, her tail whipping through the air. With a swift motion, she deflected the chains flying toward Mags, sending them skittering across the river stones. Her front claw caught another chain, holding it at bay as she growled, the sound deep and menacing. The chain writhed like a snake in her grasp.

“Knock it off, Isidora,” Calcabrina snarled. Her voice was still hers, but it now carried a deeper, resonant undertone, vibrating with the power of her transformation.

Isidora’s expression remained emotionless, her blindfolded gaze unwavering. “You both will be bound,” she said, her voice devoid of sympathy. “And you will be brought before the Shrine Maiden.”

The other priestesses moved in unison, raising their hands in mirrored gestures. Twelve more chains phased through the ground, glowing and ephemeral, as they spiraled upwards, aiming for Mags and Calcabrina.

Mags reacted on instinct. She ducked under two chains that hissed past her head, their golden glow illuminating the air where she’d just been. She moved with practiced ease, Malacoda’s training kicking in as she surged forward, closing the distance between herself and the nearest priestess.

“You started this,” Mags growled under her breath, her blood pounding with a mix of anger and adrenaline. She didn’t hesitate. Her fist connected squarely with the priestess’s face, the satisfying crunch of bone beneath her knuckles followed by a gush of blood as the woman staggered back, clutching her nose.

Mags’ muscles tensed as she felt the familiar rush. She drew in aether, and it coursed through her, urging her to move, to act. But before she could channel the magic, more chains erupted from the earth.

Calcabrina roared in frustration, her claws swiping at the chains that bound her, but even her strength wasn’t enough. The glowing gold links wrapped around her limbs, crisscrossing her body and pulling her down to the ground. Mags watched out of the corner of her eye as Calcabrina’s bestial form strained against the bindings, aether flickering around her like mist capturing rays of sunlight. There it goes again, Mags thought.

She barely had time to register it before the next wave of chains came for her. She dodged one, her body twisting out of the way, but two more caught her by the wrists. The moment they snapped around her, she felt the aether she had been gathering slip away, like sand through her fingers. She had lost her focus and her grip on her fledgling powers alongside it. The chains yanked her down, forcing her onto her knees.

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She gritted her teeth, pulling against the restraints, but the more she struggled, the tighter they seemed to hold her.

“Jebati!” Mags growled, her frustration bubbling over.

Across from her, Calcabrina had shifted back into her human form, the fight seemingly drained from her. Her shoulders slumped, her expression one of quiet defeat. She looked up at Mags, her eyes sad but resigned.

“Just cooperate, Mags,” she said softly, her voice calm. “There’s no getting out of this. Not right now.”

Mags huffed, her chest heaving with the effort of resisting. Her muscles strained against the chains one final time, but it was no use. She was trapped. With a begrudging snarl, she stopped struggling, her fists still clenched tight.

The priestesses moved in closer, their ethereal chains binding them both to the earth, their cold, emotionless faces turned toward Mags and Calcabrina. There was no escaping the judgment that awaited them now.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7P7JEZo.png]

The towering Sanguine Tree loomed above them, its blood-red leaves casting an ethereal glow over the temple’s interior. Mags couldn’t help but glance up at its sprawling branches, thick and knotted like veins stretching towards the vaulted ceiling. And just like in her dream, there they were: the ravens. Their pale, milky eyes, devoid of sight but somehow still watchful, perched on the lower branches, tracking her every move. Just like my dream…

Mags’ gaze shifted forward. Lady Celestine stood at the base of the tree, her white robes shimmering faintly in the dim light. She appeared as serene as ever, her face a mask of calm, but there was something beneath that serenity, a weight of authority that made Mags uneasy. Frey Sarto sat nearby on a stone bench, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t going to interfere, Mags realized. Maybe she couldn’t. In this strange place, Frey didn’t hold the reins. Celestine did.

The seven priestesses marched Mags and Calcabrina forward, their bare feet making soft, rhythmic taps against the cold stone floor. As they neared Celestine, the chains binding Mags dissolved into a shimmering golden dust, drifting weightlessly into the air before disappearing altogether. Mags flexed her wrists, trying to shake off the lingering tension of the bonds. Calcabrina, standing beside her, looked despondent, her normally sharp features softened by the weight of their predicament. Her eyes, usually brimming with mischief, now shimmered with unshed tears.

Isidora stepped forward, bowing her head deeply. “Lady Celestine,” she began, her voice steady. “These two have trespassed upon the sacred grounds. I request that they be judged for their offense and that a penance be imposed upon them.”

Mags clenched her fists, biting down her frustration. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “I didn’t know! You said we had our leave of the grounds. How was I supposed to know some parts were off-limits? Perhaps next time, may I suggest that the most sacred enclaves of your faith be kept behind something more than an open archway?”

Celestine’s warm smile flickered across her face like sunlight breaking through clouds. She regarded Mags with the same kind, yet distant, expression. She chuckled. “You make a good point.” The Shrine Maiden advanced upon them, practically gliding across the floor. “But ignorance,” she said softly, “is never an excuse for the violation of sacred law.”

Mags’ frustration flared, but she held her tongue as Celestine’s gaze settled on her, curious. “What did you see while in the sacred grounds, Fate-touched?”

Fate-touched. Those words again. Mags didn’t know anything about Fate. There were those with power, and then those without it. She was currently trapped beneath the weight of both Celestine and Frey Sarto. She was powerless… Mags hesitated, her mind racing. What am I supposed to say? ‘Yes, M’Lady, I saw a bunch of eyes grow out of the stone and then was struck by visions. Didn’t mean to steal your job, with you being the Oracle and all. My sincerest apologies!’ She glanced quickly at Calcabrina, whose head hung low, then back at Celestine.

“It was just . . . a big hole in the ground. Perhaps an abandoned well. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal, or why the priestesses here think it’s worth all this fuss.”

Isidora stepped forward, her voice cold. “It is no mere hole in the ground—”

But a single look from Celestine silenced her. Mags blinked, wondering how that was even possible. Isidora was blindfolded—how did she know Celestine was even looking at her? But the priestess fell silent immediately, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Celestine turned back to Mags, the edges of her smile curling slightly as if amused by her audacity. “It may seem a harmless thing to you, but the grounds you wandered into are older than you know, and the well you saw is far more than what it appears.” Her voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of something deep—something ancient. “You’re lucky nothing unfortunate occurred. There are reasons outsiders must be accompanied in those parts of the temple grounds.”

Mags shifted uneasily. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going.

“Nevertheless,” Celestine continued, “the priestess is right. A penance must be imposed.”

Calcabrina flinched at the words, her shoulders sagging. Mags glanced at her friend, frustration burning in her chest. She didn’t want to just sit here and take some arbitrary punishment. Her fists tightened again, ready to argue, but before she could, Celestine raised a hand.

“You will not be punished in the sense you may be imagining,” Celestine said, her voice thoughtful. “I have a task—one I had intended to ask Frey to handle herself, but now, I believe the two of you are better suited for it.”

Mags’ frustration gave way to curiosity. Calcabrina lifted her head, her eyes widening slightly as she listened.

Celestine clasped her hands together, her fingers intertwined like the roots of the tree behind her. “A rogue airship crash-landed on Rusalka, just north of Bijel Garden. It is a mile from here, deep in the Leshi Forest. I have a dear friend who lives there. She is old. She is concerned about what this airship’s arrival may mean for the forest and its inhabitants.”

Mags felt her breath catch. “A rogue airship?”

Celestine nodded. “The forest has been undisturbed for many years, and I cannot leave the Temple to investigate myself. Your task is simple: go to the airship, assess its crew, and ensure they do not pose a threat to the Leshi or to the Garden. Should you find hostility . . . I trust you will know how to handle it.”

“And if we refuse?” Mags asked.

Then, suddenly, the air around her squeezed her—as though two gigantic invisible hands grabbed her and clenched with all their might. Something in her mind—her own thoughts, but something alien about them—told her to be quiet, and obey. She pressed her lips together and bowed her head impulsively. However, her eyes wandered upwards to find Sarto, who sat upon the bench, legs crossed and chin resting delicately on her hands, which were oddly held together in closed fists. She stared at Mags with those wide, glowing eyes—golden, concentric circles—too easy to lose oneself in.

Celestine simply smiled. “This is your penance, Fate-touched. And it is not up for negotiation. You two will set out immediately. I worry about my friend. . . She’s alone out there in the woods.”

Mags was finally able to fully lift her head. She glanced at Calcabrina.

Calcabrina nodded faintly. “Yes, Lady Shadow,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “We’ll leave at once.”

Mags had hundreds of questions. For starters, who’s this friend of hers? Who would live in the forest on a distant island? She frowned, concerned about Calcabrina. Scratching the back of her head, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do, she stepped over and put a reassuring hand on Calcabrina’s shoulder. “We got this,” she whispered, forcing a smile she hoped was reassuring.

Celestine stepped forward, the flowing fabric of her robe whispering against the stone. “May the Garden watch over you both,” she said. “And may you return with peace restored to the Leshi.”

The ravens above cawed in unison, their blind, white eyes fixed on the two girls. Waiting, watching.