The morning after the high priest's attack, I heard the doorknob turning and looked up. My body tensed, ready for anything.

The young priestess stood in the doorway, she held a bag in her hand and frowned as one of the guards patted her up and down.

"Is this really necessary?" she demanded.

The guard frowned, "I am merely obeying my orders, Heartwarden. Have to make sure you aren't hiding anything in your robes."

The girl pursed her lips, "Are you satisfied, or do you need to touch me one last time just to be sure?"

The guard cleared his throat and took a step back, "Sorry, ma'am, but I'm still ordered to be thorough."

Her face had turned a shade of pink, "Are you done?"

He nodded, "The high priest wants you to ensure that their wounds aren't fatal, that is all."

Her eyes narrowed, "Why are they being treated like prisoners? They are visitors to our temple, not criminals!"

"Just following orders, Heartwarden."

"I'll be quick," she said quietly, as she entered the room, closing the door behind her.

"Leave the door open," said the guard, sticking his boot out to block the door.

The priestess' usually calm demeanor shifted, as she glared at him, disappointment clearly written on her face.

"Grant Harland," she said the man’s name slowly, deliberately, "Who was there for you when you got a fever last year?"

She took a step towards him, "Who was it that healed your son when he was kicked in the head by a runaway horse?"

He backed away, "Just following orders."

"Orders?" She said, "We live to serve the people, not the high priest."

"Shit," Flint whispered beside me, "Who knew a priestess could be such a badass?"

I snorted, "And you expect me to win her over with my charm?"

The guard swallowed, "Heartwarden I... I don't want to lose my job over some strangers."

"Strangers?" she said, her voice a whisper, "We are meant to be friends to the weary, healers of the sick, and bringers of peace to the troubled."

He lowered his head, "Yes, Heartwarden, forgive me."

The young priestess' expression softened, "There is nothing to forgive," she said gently.

She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, "The Maker watches over us all, Grant."

She stepped past him and into the room, her white robes trailing behind her, the bag hanging loosely at her side.

The door swung shut behind her and I could hear the click of the lock.

***

I watched the priestess silently as she walked towards us.

She was the image of the perfect priestess. Beautiful, caring, and seemingly innocent. Her hair, a shade of blonde that matched her eyes, fell in loose waves past her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face.

She was young, but she carried herself with confidence and authority, even while facing a man twice her size.

Flint was right, she was a badass.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the broken table, the sagging roof and the scorch marks on the walls, before finally settling on us.

She frowned and then sat on a stool next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. Her gaze flickered from my injured body to the tattoo circling my heart and back again, lingering on the wound on my chest.

"Is somebody going to tell me what happened here?" she asked, her voice soft but stern.

I winced as I sat up, "There was an argument, and things escalated."

She bit her lip, "This looks like magic," she said, inspecting the seared flesh with the tips of her fingers. "Who did this?"

I shrugged and kept quiet.

"High priest tried to kill us," Flint blurted.

Her expression changed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Father Rakanar would never..." she trailed off, staring at Flint.

"Do you know another zorin that wears a red robe and wields some teleporting explosion spell card?" I asked.

She shook her head, "How is that possible?"

"Maybe you don't know the man as well as you think you do," I said.

She shifted uncomfortably, studying me for deception, and finally her gaze lowered, and I could tell she had lost whatever argument had been going on in her head.

"The spell card is called [Rift Bolt]," she said, "I've gone on patrols with the Father and his men and seen him use it on blight fiends."

She shook her head in disbelief, "Why would he attack you?"

I crossed my arms covering the tattoo, "He wants something from us," I said, "and we didn't feel like giving it to him."

"I'm so sorry," she stuttered. "You came to us for help, and instead you were attacked."

"It happens," I said.

"No, it doesn't!" she said softly, she placed her bag on the floor before meeting my eyes. "We serve the Maker! We should protect our guests, not harm them."

She bit her lip apologetically, "Here I am questioning you when I should be healing you. Apart from the burns on your chest, are there any other injuries?"

I grimaced, "My ribs are bruised, but nothing serious."

"Would you mind if I healed you?" she asked.

"Is it going to hurt?" I asked, scratching the skin around the burnt flesh.

"I thought you were a tough guy," she said with a smile.

"I mean, is it going to hurt you?"

The priestess's eyes widened, and a strange look passed over her face. "You are the first person to show concern about my well-being."

"Is there something wrong with that?" I asked.

She shook her head quickly, "You don't need to worry, it's my duty to heal the wounded."

"That's a hard life," Flint said, taking a seat on the bed.

She nodded, "The Maker gave me a foundation card to heal the sick, it would be blasphemy not to use it."

"The Maker gave it to you?" Flint asked, as he crossed his legs and leaned back against the wall.

She smiled, "When I was chosen as Heartwarden I was given this foundation card, it is a sign of my office for the allotted time that I serve the people."

"Allotted time?" I asked.

"All things come to an end," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards, "even for the Heartwarden."

I shrugged, "If you say so, I've never been a big believer."

"A healing card that makes you feel the pain of the afflicted," Flint said, "That's such a typical dick move of the gods."

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The priestess smiled, "Maybe it is a test?"

"Test or no test," Flint said, "that sucks."

She shook her head and sighed, "There are worse things than suffering, if only briefly, to help others."

It was strange to hear such devotion from someone my own age. She had obviously dedicated her life to serving her people, and it seemed like she really cared. It was hard not to be cynical when dealing with religious people, but despite my best efforts, I was actually starting to like her.

The priestess bit her lip, her blue eyes searching mine, "Let me take away your pain, please?"

I nodded, not seeing any point in arguing with her.

The priestess lowered her head and held her hand out, palm touching my forehead, and closed her eyes. Her fingers began to glow faintly, and I felt a warmth spread through my body.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

I heard her whispering words of prayer. Though I couldn't understand the language, the words still comforted me.

My pain vanished in waves, first my skin tingled, then my muscles loosened, and finally my wounds closed. As my senses returned, I realized that the girl was kneeling beside me, watching me intently.

"Thank you, Heartwarden," I said.

I didn't recognize the title, but I had overheard the guards call her that before.

She looked up, meeting my eye. "My name is Eliaria."

"Bastion," I said, "I owe you one, or two now I guess."

Flint cleared his throat.

"And this is Flint," I said, "My..."

"Friend," Flint interjected, "We're friends."

"Nice to meet you both," Eliaria said, her eyes fixed on mine.

She blushed, "Give me a moment for my spell card to go off cooldown, and I'll heal your wounds too, Flint."

"You don't have to," Flint said, "It's only a few cuts and scrapes."

"Please, let me," she insisted.

Flint hesitated, "Sure, why the hell not," he said finally.

***

When Eliaria was done, she smiled shyly and stood up, "I brought you both a change of clothes and something to eat."

I pushed myself off the bed and took the bag she offered.

Inside I found fresh clothes, and a small meal of bread, cheese, and fruit. The food was good, but the clothing was better. It was clean and soft, made of some kind of wool blend. The tunic was short-sleeved, and the trousers were loose fitting and comfortable.

She turned her back to us as we dressed, but I could hear her humming under her breath.

Something occurred to me then, the prayer she had said, it sounded like the old tongue. Patches had mentioned that the description on my spell cards were written in that language.

"Do you speak the old tongue?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, "Teon's holy scriptures are written in the old tongue, all priests learn it from a young age."

I hesitated, I wanted to show her my cards and ask her to read the descriptions for me. I needed to confirm that what Patches told me was true. But I didn't know this girl, a part of me trusted her, but for all I knew she would report everything she saw to the high priest.

"Do you have an interest in the scriptures?" she asked.

Flint snorted, "I downed a bottle of the local priest's sacred wine when I was five, if that counts."

Eliaria laughed.

"I've never cared much about gods," I said, "the closest thing to a god I've seen are card mages, and they aren't all that impressive."

"Did you know that Teon was a card mage?" she asked, turning back to face me.

I hadn't known that, I'd assumed he was born a godling or something, I'd never really given it any thought.

"No, I didn't," I said.

She grinned, "Well, he was. There is a story about him in the scripture," she said, her eyes lightning up. "He was born in Fair Haven, a small village close by."

"Fair Haven, wasn't that the name of Nidalee and Malachi’s village?" Flint asked.

I frowned at him, he was right. Was that an important detail or just a coincidence?

"Go on," I said to Eliaria, "what happened to Teon?"

"Teon was actually the first person to ascend to the top of the Tower," she said. "But on his journey to the top, he saw only death. When he received the wish card, his only wish was to see an end to all the suffering and death."

"Looks like the wish card was a dud," Flint said.

I had to agree with him, suffering and death were everywhere, there was no way to escape it.

"There is more to the tale," Eliaria said, "The stories say that Teon wished for an end to all death. His wish was granted by the Maker, and he became the god of life, granting all who believe an eternal afterlife without pain or suffering."

"Do you believe in the wish card?" I asked.

She nodded, "Every priest believes. I would not have given my life to the Maker otherwise." She frowned at me, "Is that what you are seeking?"

"What makes you think we are seeking anything?" I asked.

She tilted her head studying me, "Two strangers appearing in the temple half dead," she said, "you are either on the run or you are looking for something."

I shrugged, "First step is getting out of this prison."

Her brown wrinkled in a frown, "You aren't prisoners. You are guests of the temple."

"Do you usually lock up your guests and station guards at the door?" Flint asked.

"No," she stammered, "but I am sure that the high priest has his reasons."

"Reasons that involve stealing the cards off Bastion's body," Flint said.

Eliaria’s eyes widened at that, and I saw my chance to reach her.

"We need to get out of here," I said, lowering my voice, "can you help us? We need to get our weapons back and a guide away from here."

She shook her head, her voice trembling slightly, "I will speak with the high priest and see if I can convince him to release you."

I clenched my jaw, that wasn't what I had hoped to hear.

"Please," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder, "give me a chance. Don't do anything reckless, just wait and see what happens. If I can't convince him to let you leave, I will set you free myself."

I studied her for a moment, "Fine," I said, "But we aren't leaving without our weapons, no matter what."

As Eliaria closed the door behind her and left, Flint sat down beside me and took a bite of an apple, "Well, that went well."

I scowled at him, "Next time you can do the charming."

***

Late one afternoon, around the time when the food usually arrived, I heard footsteps approaching down the hall.

The guard outside my door was talking to someone in hushed tones. Flint and I stood, leaning against the wall near the doorway and listening intently.

"...blight fiends attacking the Southern wall," came the muffled voice. "All armed guards are needed!"

The guard cursed, followed by the sound of heavy boots running across stone flooring.

A moment later, the door opened and Eliaria stepped inside.

She had a bag with her, and I had a bad feeling about it. I could tell by the look on her face that something had happened.

My suspicions were confirmed when she opened the bag, revealing a map, two water skins and some rations.

She pushed the bag towards me, "You need to leave," she said in a low voice. "It's Witherveil tonight, the guards and priests will be occupied in the great hall with the ceremony. Wait until the guards are distracted, and then you two can slip out."

"What happened?" I asked.

She gave me a guarded look, "A stranger arrived at the temple last night. He was looking for someone matching your description."

Flint glanced at me, his face drained of color.

"Is somebody after you?" she asked, looking between the two of us.

"Probably," I said.

I had a pretty decent guess about who she was referring to.

"Was his name Patches?" I asked.

She blinked, "I didn't get his name, but he was very persistent. After he left, I heard the high priest telling his bodyguards that they had to be ready to move against the prisoners at any moment."

"What do you mean?" Flint asked.

She shook her head, her voice rising in frustration, "They're going to come for you," she said, "as soon as the ceremony is done."

"Come with us," I said. "We will leave tonight."

She shook her head.

"I've seen how they treat you," I persisted. "We can run, flee the temple and go north."

"That would be wrong of me," she said, her eyes pleading with me, "I can't abandon my duty."

"We know how to get to the second floor," Flint said. "You can come with us."

She looked at us with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, I can't," she said. "My duty is to fulfill the Maker's will, I am the Heartwarden of the temple right till the very end."

"Your duty is to yourself," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "You deserve better than this."

She met my gaze, and I saw fear and regret in her eyes, but also determination.

I nodded, realizing that she had made up her mind.

"Good luck," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hope you reach the top and get your wish."

I reached out and grasped her hand, "Thank you for everything."

Eliaria held tight to my hand for a few moments, then pulled away.

"Your weapons and backpack are locked inside the high priest's chambers," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "They are directly below the bell tower, he doesn't let anyone enter the room, and there are guards posted outside at all times."

She hesitated, "The guards will be distracted with the ceremony tonight, but I can't guarantee they'll be distracted for long. If you can sneak past them, the door should be open."

I nodded, "How will I find you if you change your mind?"

She turned to leave, "I won't," she said. "Maker bless you."

"Maker bless you," I replied.

A faint smile touched her lips and I watched her leave. I wished that I could have convinced her to come with us, even though I knew it was a lost cause.

***

"That girl is a fool," Flint said, his tone harsh.

I turned to look at him, "She's made up her mind," I said, "there's nothing we can do."

He shook his head, "We could have forced her to come with us," he said, his face flushing with anger.

"Do you really want to be that guy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grimaced, "I just don't like the thought of leaving her behind."

"Neither do I," I admitted.

Flint ran his hand through his hair and sighed, "Fine," he said. "But what do you think is going to happen to her if they find out she's helped us escape?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, but we can't stay here and find out."

"I know," Flint said, "but this sucks."

I couldn't agree more.

"We need to focus on getting our weapons back," I said, pushing the feelings of guilt aside. "Then we can worry about everything else."

Flint took a deep breath, "Let's just get out of this place. If there's an ambush waiting for us, then so be it. I'm in the mood for a fight."

***