The Will molded every person to be different; this made them complicated to figure out.

Qilen was no exception to the rule. Bright and perpetually cheery, he defied everything she thought of outsiders. The priestess had long frightened her with tales of cunning, baby-eating men and faithless witches who flaunted their disregard for the Divine Will.

It was terrifying to think about a world without the Will. Without the Will, there would be no order, no compassion for the fellow man. At least that's what Renya was told to believe.

She peeked at Qilen from the corner of her eye.

Qilen seemed normal enough for an outsider. A little too cheeky for her liking, but she had seen no malicious intent behind his attitude. So far.

"So, where are you taking me?" he asked, flicking a gold-back beetle off the cuff of his jacket.

"I made a promise with some children," she replied blandly. "They wanted to see you, so I told them if they behaved, I'd bring you over."

He raised a speculative brow. "Nice to know I have a say in all this."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had nothing to say in response.

Qilen chuckled and skipped on ahead in front of her. "Why so glum?" he asked. "Surely, the thought of acting as my guide isn't that repulsive."

"I could list a few better things to be doing right now," she replied glumly.

Qilen paused, just long enough for Renya to catch up.

The River Shantai was in view now. A broad, lazy river that ran down from the peak of Mount Naiman. There was never any concern of drowning, so the adults turned a blind eye to the children playing near the bank. Renya was always too preoccupied with the priestess's lessons to be playing with the other children. One of the driving factors that led to her becoming an outcast among them.

The "fort" she was looking for was a pile of haphazardly stacked logs that vaguely resembled a tower.

A pale blond face, Shan, poked out from the top of the tower.

"He’s here!" she exclaimed.

A group of children emerged from the back of the tower. The tallest of the group, children just a few years younger than Renya stood at the front. Behind them were the younger children who peeked out at Qilen with curious eyes.

The rest of Shan's body emerged from the top of the tower. She looked down at Renya and Qilen, and with a triumphant smile, leaped into the air. Somersaulting mid-jump, she landed on her feet gracefully. The girl had changed out of her dress from earlier for more boyish clothing. She wore ankle-length trousers and a tight cotton shirt. Hardly clothes fit for a young lady of Silverleaf but considering the weather, Renya decided to let it slide.

Qilen whistled soundlessly and clapped, provoking a giggling fit from Shan.

"Consider me impressed," Qilen said, performing an exaggerated bow. "Miss...?"

"Renmei Shan," the girl replied furtively.

Frowning, Renya shook her head. It wasn’t proper for children to take on their family surnames before their coming of age.

"Well met, Lady Renmei Shan," Qilen said, his face lighting up with natural delight. "My name is Qilen, a teller of fortunes and orator of legends long past."

A derisive snicker sounded from the back.

"So, you're just a storyman?"

Qilen placed a hand on his heart and opened his mouth in mock outrage. "Storyman?" He took a step back. "I'm no simple storyman. I'm a Keeper."

Shan cocked her head. "Keeper?"

"Someone who records stories and tells them," Qilen explained.

"Is there even a difference?" Renya muttered under her breath.

"Of course there is," Qilen said, giving her a wink. "Can a storyman do this?" Bright embers flickered around his head, inciting soft gasps from the crowd. "Let me take you back to a time before time itself. When gods walked among men and death held no power. When the Heavenly Pantheon lorded over mortals with an iron fist. The Age of Divinity."

The embers formed up into fist-sized orbs that began to dance above him.

"Stories lost to the river of time," he continued. "But not lost to the Keeper. The World Ravaging Serpent that brought the heavens to its knees. The Mystic Eyes of Space and Time able to see through the past, present, and future." The orbs of fire whirred furiously now, sending crimson sparks flying into the blue sky. "Miracles and feats you couldn't even begin to imagine. These are the stories I will tell you. Stories no others know but myself. So, you see, I am no simple storyman."

"What's the World Ravaging Serpent?" a voice called out from the crowd.

"A foul beast born from the dark ambitions of a mad alchemist." The orbs of fire streaked away from him and toward the crowd, dancing madly above them. Like a serpent, Renya thought.

"It's destructive power was unmatched. The world suffered its wrath for a hundred dark years. Until the Skypiercer, Breaker of Chains, the Lance of the Azure Sky, slew the serpent. The serpent's soul was sealed in a blade forged from its bones. Its hide turned into a sheath. The Sword of the Serpent, as it was dubbed, now sealed in a desolate land far from mortal reach."

The orbs abruptly shot up into the sky—some arced into the sky in a whirl, others flew straight up before exploding into brilliant sparks.

Renya stared, words failing to form at her mouth. The Priestess had once shown her something similar. Varya weaving, she called it. It was an ancient art gifted to humanity by the Divine Will.

"How did you do that?" Shan asked breathlessly. If she wasn't enamored by him before, she certainly was now. "I've never seen anything like that!"

Qilen grinned and bowed, his arms flared out above him. "I'm sure you haven't."

"Please," Renya scoffed. "Now that you're finished with your little display, can we get a move on?" Despite her words, she was genuinely impressed. But he didn't have to know that.

Shan tossed her head angrily at Renya.

"No need to come to arms over me, Lady Renya speaks the truth. It would be discourteous of me as a guest in your fine village." Qilen smiled at Shan. "I'm sure we will meet again, Lady Renmei Shan."

"Just Shan is fine," the girl said, blushing at the cheeks.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Renya rolled her eyes and began to walk away from the tower. Qilen trailed after her with a satisfied expression.

"I thank you for the opportunity. It's been far too long since I performed that."

"Save your gratitude," Renya retorted. "We still have the priestess to meet."

The trek to the temple was filled with colorful stories from Qilen, although without the display of fire. Some stories she liked more than others. The tale of Mishka the Dragon Slayer interested her considerably. He was but a boy when he killed his first dragon. Unlike the other great heroes, he relied on his wit and quick thinking, not a mythical sword blessed by the gods or a spear that could be thrown around the world.

Renya put a finger to her lip. "Your stories are fiction, right?" They had to be. Not once had the Divine Will been mentioned. "I wouldn't recite any of your pagan tales to the priestess. She doesn't take kindly to stories."

The corner of Qilen's lips tugged upwards. A smile, but not really a smile. "You think my stories are fiction?" he asked. "What gave you that idea?"

"Because you haven't mentioned the Will," she said as innocuously as possible. "All heroic feats are only possible through the Will. I don't think you mentioned the Will even once in your stories."

"So you're an adherent of that church." He regarded her impassively. "I didn't think there were any followers of the Will left."

Renya frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing," Qilen said softly.

They climbed up the slope to the temple with an awkward silence hanging over the atmosphere. Qilen occasionally sneaked glances at her, but Renya kept her eyes glued forward.

"What did you mean by 'didn't think there were any followers of the will left'?" Renya finally asked. "The priestess said there are millions of other adherents just like us."

Qilen pursed his lips until they were only thin lines.

Renya threw her head back in frustration.

. . .

The sun was beginning to climb down by the time they reached the temple. Red-orange light streaked across the vast, empty fields.

Qilen stopped to stare at the temple. "You don't suppose your Priestess has a nice hot bath waiting for us?"

"There's a basin at the back of the temple and a mirror as well. You can freshen up there."

Qilen followed Renya through the front entrance of the temple. The Silverleaf, a unique variant of the solus tree whose pale, metal-colored leaves gave the village its name, greeted them with swaying branches. There was only one left in the village. The Priestess sat underneath its canopy engrossed in her copy of Proverbs of the Will.

She looked up from the holy texts and at Renya. As her gaze shifted to Qilen, her brows furrowed sharply. Before the Priestess could say anything, Qilen stepped forward and bowed as he had earlier, a hand over his heart and his head bent parallel to the ground. "My name is Qilen, occasional seer and keeper of-"

"Stories," Renya finished. "He's a storyman."

"Keeper," he corrected. "Keeper of legends long past. Orator of histories known not to man."

The Priestess studied him, unimpressed. "Is there a reason you’re standing here in my temple?”

"Why the Mayor directed me here," Qilen said. "He said you would be gracious enough to provide lodging, and dare I say warm food for my aching stomach."

"Depends," the Priestess said, snapping her holy texts shut. "I know your type, Keeper. I won't have any heresy spouted under the roof of my temple. If it were up to me, I'd have you out sleeping under a hedge, but I suppose the Mayor wouldn't like that. If you can promise me that, then you can have your bed and dinner."

Qilen nodded graciously. "No heresy, no stories. I swear by my name."

The Priestess rose to her feet with an inaudible sigh. "Show him to the chapel, Renya. He can pick out a pew to sleep under." She put a hand on her hip and flung a finger out at Qilen. "And if I sense even a spark of varya from you, I'll have you whipped back to your holy tree.” The Priestess stormed out of the courtyard without so much as even a glance back at the two.

Renya rubbed the back of her neck. The Priestess could be a little unfriendly at times but never so cold.

"You weren't kidding," Qilen muttered. "She really doesn't like Keepers."

"I've never seen her like that," Renya muttered, drawing a quizzical look from Qilen. "Do you think she has a history with your type?"

Qilen whistled. "You think? It's a miracle she didn't lose it on sight."

"Why would she do that?"

"Let's just say my kind tangled with adherents of the Will in the past. Nothing too serious, mind you, just the eradication of their church."

Speechless, she could only stare at him with abject shock. "The eradication of our what?"

He shrugged. "It's a cruel world outside. They tried to chop down our World Tree. So, we responded by chopping down their pope."

"You killed the pope for a tree?"

"When you put it like that, you make us sound like we were overreacting."

Renya took a seat against the trunk of the Silverleaf. "When did all this happen?"

Qilen paused to think. "Maybe half a century ago? Your Priestess couldn't have been any older than you by the time the final battle of the War of the Tree took place."

"Half a century?" Renya frowned. "Then, the Priestess would be-"

"Varya has a way of making us look younger than we really are." He uttered those words with a smile, but to her, his voice sounded empty.

"How old are you, Qilen?”

"Too old," he mused. "But don't let that intimidate you. I'm a child at heart!”

Renya glared at Qilen, then readjusted her spectacles. "Not that I can believe."

He grinned in response.

"Go wash up before the sun sets for good. The Priestess doesn't like it when we have to use candles." Renya pointed to the opening of a hallway that would lead to the back of the temple. "The washroom is in there, and the chapel is adjacent to it. That's where you'll be sleeping."

"Nice to know," Qilen replied. "But I must ask, will dinner be ready soon? I don't think I've eaten in ages, and I mean that literally."

Renya rolled her eyes. "I'll be handling that. You get washed up."

. . .

Dinner was a tense affair, in part to the silent cold war between Priestess and Keeper. Qilen made friendly attempts at conversation, but the Priestess was hellbent on shutting him down at every turn.

Renya had cooked a modest meal, simple broth, and crusty bread and cheese to hold it all down. It wasn't her best work, but the pantry was barer than usual.

Some part of her was grateful for Qilen's presence. He ate voraciously; compliments paid to her in between every spoonful of broth. It was a far cry from the treatment she was used to. The Priestess ate with an almost business-like intent. To her, food was just a necessity to survive. Not something to be enjoyed.

"You cook often?" Qilen asked after some time. "I haven't had a meal so fine since I dined with emissaries of the Solunar Hall."

The Priestess snorted. "Solunar Hall? Typical of a Keeper. Do you recite these fantasies to everyone you meet? But what else can you expect from a Keeper but falsehoods and lies."

Qilen looked up from his meal, his spoonful of broth suspended mid-air.

"I may be overstepping my place," Qilen said in a low tone. "But the dining room is no place for arguments and conflict. Please, enjoy the meal cooked graciously for us by Lady Renya."

Renya stared in disbelief. No one talked to the Priestess like that, not even the Mayor, and they were practically half-wed.

"Keeper," the Priestess growled. "This is my temple, and you will do well to remember that the next time you decide to open your twisted little mouth."

Qilen shot up to his feet. "You know what we Keepers think of your kind? Fools who stubbornly cling to made-up garbage. How many bisected holy men will it take for you to admit your precious Will is a farce?" He tossed a glance to Renya, quickly adding: "No offense."

Renya gaped at him, speechless for the second time today.

The Priestess shot up to her feet. "We're through here," she spat. "I want you gone by tomorrow morning. Don't even think of filling Renya's head with any of your nonsense. You people never change."

"I could say the same about your kind."

His retort drew one last disgusted look from the Priestess, and then she was gone, her back disappearing through the doorway of the dining room.

Qilen slumped back down in his seat. "I admit,” he said ruefully, “that could’ve gone better."