Church of the Three - North Jaga City. Troug, 3rd.

Donovan

Things were not going to script in the treatment of their latest charge and now Priest Donovan nervously awaits the arrival of brother Darius.

Though they have shared a similar rank and role in the esteemed service of the three, Donovan has always been very aware that Darius is the more devout follower. It was not that Donovan was a non-believer, he had then and still had a firm belief in the gods; how could you not when visions were widespread, and the almighty system reaffirmed the presence of divinity with each passing day.

No, Donovan suffered from a wavering belief in the Gods’ ability to care for their people. They were surely there, in this he had no doubt, but they seemed to not be able to bring themselves to care for the suffering of the mortals walking the world.

Darius though, he was a man of unwavering faith. Both cunning and intelligent, he would delight in any toil he deemed necessary for the glory of the gods. His charm and wisdom were utilized in his daily works to promote the divine ones. The man believed wholeheartedly that the gods shared in our suffering as they wanted us to grow yet could not shelter us from all hardships as that would remove the value from our lives. “We as a people are shaped by our suffering as well as our success.” was the common utterance when he witnessed people suffering through strife.

And now Donovan would need to ask for his aid to ease the suffering of someone in his care, a girl barely into adulthood. It was on days like these when Donovan felt that he was not needed by his church, that he had mistaken his call unto the service of the Trifecta his church was devoted to serving. They worshipped the Three as the Three served under the One, upholding his will on Kalydren whilst the Twelve aided them by bringing smaller miracles throughout his creation.

A Hero would come to call upon the divine ones by name serving them more fully than most peoples though being loved all the same, or so said the scriptures. Donovan knew of one hero, a man serving one of the twelve, who currently resided in the Imperial Capital. There had been tales told by those sent vast distances through accidental exposure to mana storms and some of their more onerous effects. Those people had claimed that there was another hero, in some cases two, back on their home continents.

If only it were yet possible to go to these places, study their ways, culture, and advancements. Alas, it was not to be as no advancement had yet enabled long-distance sea travel. Even the better mages feared going too far into the sea using methods of flight or water skipping for fear of never returning. The beasts of the sea were numerous and a stray mana storm raging out of season would be disastrous.

There were spells used by the great mages and healers of the continent that could traverse space using anchors and gates true, but upon being transported by a mana storm a person lost all previous anchors, leaving the caster a castaway. Donovan once dreamed of being one such castaway, to leave behind his shame at having no meaning within these hallowed halls.

“Excuse me, Brother Donovan. Brother Darius has arrived; he awaits you in the Chamber of Rites.” Stated a nervous sounding priest. Brother Eric would be the man’s name; he was new to the church and always seemed on edge if not eager to please.

Donovan turned with a nod of acknowledgement to his colleague and made his way into the inner recesses of the church, he feared the day would only grow melancholier as it progressed.

Would Darius be of help, would he have a solution? The problem was an odd one, never had a person been so irrevocably cursed that they could not be healed, and one so young. The girl could not have been barely into her adult years. What then could have caused such a riotous spread of malevolent energies? They had traced the lines of magic and found the source to be some sickly substance lodged in the small of her back, nary but a few inches from her very core.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Core may be the wrong term for some reasons left vague by mystics and even more vague by theologians, what mattered most was every drop of energy flowing through her body was crossing this line of dark, tainted miasma and being in turn corrupted. As fast as they worked to remove the curse from her body the cycling energy would corrupt what they managed to purify, like a bear protecting its meal.

Donovan left the silent hallways of the inner church catacombs and entered the wide circular room of the Chamber of Rituals to see Darius staring at the girl on the dais. For a moment Donovan wondered if the girls state had shocked the stoic man, she was quite thin. Who knew when this child had last been able to eat a proper meal as there was no chance that she had yet reached the level where food became less necessary for survival or that she could subsist on ambient mana alone for long. Her short cut hair, resembling something more often found on the poverty-stricken boys in the slums than what a proper elf would normally be seen with.

The rags she was wearing had been tossed, and burned, and then had their ashes spread to the wind and water; Donovan refused to think of the smell again lest its vile odor somehow strike his as a phantom would. She was now garbed in a thin, modest, tan robe; the kind worn by the younger acolytes. For all the care that had been taken in making her clean, the energy radiating from the girl was casting a cloud of such filth that it was tangible from more than twenty feet away.

Donovan stepped up behind Darius, patiently waiting for the other man to make some move to acknowledge his arrival. Truly, Donovan had never seen the man so focused that he would ignore those around him so blatantly.

“Do you know who you have found?” Donovan almost missed the whispered sentence as his eyes had once more strayed to the pitiful creature at the center of the chamber.

The room was a vast circle of various statues with sigaldry and runic engravings circling the chamber. It was sixty feet from one wall of the circular area to the other with doors placed in all four cardinal directions. The ceiling above was a multitude of carved images cast to depict scenes of the holy scripture, supported by twelve arching beams of glowing marble. The floor of the room was festooned with meticulously drawn lines to focus the powers of the priests who worked here, bolstering their stamina, and increasing their mana recovery as most rituals were taxing to the novitiates.

“A girl, for that is all she is in the eyes of the Gods.” Donovan said in reply.

“Nay, she is more than she seems.” Darius turned about to face the Donovan “Brother it is good to see you again.”

“As it is good to see you, though I truly wish I had not needed to call upon you for such a thing.” Donovan said with a small smile, he may have been jealous, but he never said he disliked the man.

“This girl, your report indicated that she has been here for three days now. Has she not woken from this even once?”

Donovan sighed, “She has not opened her eyes in all this time, no. Though she had flailed about as if trapped in a nightmare several times.”

Darius looked into Donovan’s eyes as he listened, he always had a way of not breaking eye contact at all. It made one feel as if they were important when holding this mans gaze, but Donovan always found it off-putting to maintain for long. Surely Darius realized how uncomfortable it made others when he did this, or maybe not. Darius had always been intense.

Darius walked to the center of the chamber seconds after Donovan finished speaking, waiting only a proper amount of time for the man to continue speaking before he did so. Donovan followed behind Darius while the other man began muttering to himself. It took Donovan only a moment to realize that Darius was verbally activating spells; Detect Poison, Detect Magic, Detect Aura, Bless, Protection from Evil, Sanctuary, Infra-vision…

The list went on and Donovan spared only a few moments to think about what that meant for the levels that Darius had reached since they had last done anything but greet each other at a random gathering for some festival or rite. The man had to at least be near Master level.

They stopped before the dais where the girl lay, her eyes fluttering and fingers slowly fidgeting as she lay there. She looked different now, but wait, no. She was the same, it was just that Donovan could see swirls of color circling the chamber around them now. Donovan nearly choked in shock as he realized that Darius had cast a host of spells upon him as well, he had not even felt the effects taking hold, so lost his own thoughts.

The blues, red, purples, and a sicklier, congealed shade of red were wafting about in the air like a rainbow of oil on water found in a smithy’s quenching pool. It was disturbing and hypnotic. Donovan had not noticed quite as much before when working on the effects of his own spells.

“I need you to collect the clergy.” Darius said shortly.

“Oh? Someone in particular?” asked Donovan.

“We will need them all, bring everyone in who has any training in rituals. Every acolyte, scholar, and novitiate.” Darius looked serious as his eyes stayed focused on the girls’ pain filled expression. “We have to do this now.”

Donovan was going to ask for more specific as well as the reasoning behind the demand but before he could utter a word Darius had sunk to his knees and begun reciting the ageless prayer.

Donovan fled the room.