The flickering orange glow of candles illuminated the dark, somber med bay in the temple of Illephrre. A few cots were salvaged from the wreckage of Ben’s confrontation with Jor, and most of the debris had been cleared away as the four of the original five party members sat quietly; the muffled, howling wind was the chorus to the thick melancholy in the air. Rattling windows echoed in the chamber as sporadic violent gusts of wind slammed against the cliff face of the mountain. Neither the wizened Ethel nor Jor Vasylius were anywhere to be seen.
Ben sat cross-legged on a cot next to his lightly snoring Keeper, who had performed ‘emergency surgery’ on his shoulder several hours prior, cloth wrapped around where the necrotic flesh had been. Ann had said the wound wouldn’t heal naturally —even with the aid of Gialessi’s Reprieve— and that she’d need to excise the dead flesh before any recovery could occur. During her ministrations, she had told Ben that the Matron of the Hand, renowned as a Grand Master Alchemist, was also notorious for her use and teaching of specialized magic, the exact nature of which was a guarded secret of the order.
Ainsle had decided to turn in for the evening, stating that they’d need some rest and clearer heads if they planned on pursuing their objective in the morning. Ben thought she had been uncharacteristically withdrawn, which he didn’t comment on as he knew she dealt with grief in her own way. He thought back to when he had met the witty, sharp-tongued woman in the outpost in Moon Vale and then when she had lost her partner in the clearing outside the Ancient woods. She’s been through a lot. Probably more than most of us, he thought as he absently ran a finger down the spine of the spell book Kieran had intended to give him.
He heard a nearly inaudible hiccup come from his right, and he turned his head to face June, who sat on an adjacent cot, her knees pulled close to her chest with arms wrapped lightly around her shins. Her grey, red-tinged eyes were wide, staring at the stained-glass window blankly. Ben slowly stood from the bed so as to not wake his resting Keeper and tiptoed over to June. He sat beside her, leaning his shoulder against hers.
June flinched at the contact and glanced at him with the same vacant expression. “Hey, Ben. You don’t have to. I just. I…” she began softly.
“I’m not doing anything. Thought since you’re not using much of your cot, you’d be willing to share for a while,” he tilted his head toward the sleeping figure of the blonde-haired woman, who lay curled up in the center of the bed. “Thought I’d take advantage of unclaimed bed real estate,” he said, the light-heartedness of his words not reaching his tone. Kieran’s death weighed heavily on his conscience. The thoughts of ‘if only I’d done this’ or ‘if we’d waited for the others’ had sent him into a downward spiral of guilt, anger, and frustration earlier —one that he hadn’t completely climbed out of quite yet.
June sniffed and remained silent for a few heartbeats before clearing her throat, gaze still on the dark, rattling window. “I’m not as dumb as I look, you know? I knew whatever we had was just… just a fling, I guess.” She paused and bit her lip, the first expressive gesture he’d seen from her since they had returned to the med bay. “Still. I thought maybe we could’ve been something. He was good to me,” she said, her tone rose as if she was trying to convince him —or herself— of the fact.
“I know,” Ben replied.
“Yeah. The best, really. Maybe the best of us.”
Ben’s throat tightened, yet he schooled his tone into an even one. “I think so, too.”
June met his gaze. “Do you ever wish you could do it again? Like, go back and do it all differently.”
“Yeah, I think about it all the time,” he began as he glanced at his bandaged shoulder. “But, if I’ve learned anything from that handsome guy, it’s this: make the best of what you have… and be good to those close to you.”
The albino woman chuckled; the sound was part bitter, part joyful. “That’s pretty much him. Always working hard for everyone else, never taking the time to look out for himself. So… awkward, but so charming at the right times.” She paused again. “Too charming, now that I think about it.”
“Yeah, so I heard,” Ben forced a smile.
June leaned over to retrieve her satchel from the floor next to the cot and revealed a moderately sized waterskin after rummaging around its contents. She flicked the stopper with a thumb and took a deep swig before coughing and thumping her chest. “Here,” she said between coughs, passing the ‘waterskin’ to Ben, who accepted the container with a raised brow.
His nose crumpled at the pungent fumes of a very potent spirit. “To Kieran,” he said before taking an equally respectable gulp of the booze and handing the skin back to her.
She nodded, and her eyes began to glisten. “To Kieran,” she repeated, tipping the skin for another drink.
The pair sat silently for a while before bouts of restrained tears and sobs saw Ben wrap an arm around his companion. Perhaps he was distracting himself from his grief by being the rock for the Magus’ daughter, or maybe he found the sadness of the Evoker to be cathartic —as if her mourning was a reflection of the pain he wasn’t able to express. Eventually, after roughly an hour and a half, June drifted off to sleep; the exhaustion of the day’s emotions had taken its toll as she was undisturbed by the distant rumbles of thunder and the strong, howling winds against the large window.
Ben gently laid the young woman on the cot and turned to see Ann sitting upright. A flash of lightning illuminated the thoughtful tilt of her head, her blue eyes locked onto him. “Would you care to take a walk?” she said, her even tone startled him.
“Sure,” Ben replied hesitantly. “Did you get enough sleep? I don’t need much myself nowadays.”
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“Yes, though the quality of sleep leaves much to be desired, I have rested enough. Thank you, my darling.” Ann stood, and Ben followed the blonde woman to the med bay door.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked. Her unnaturally calm demeanor caused a slight unease to roil within his stomach. “Oh, and where are we going?”
Ann smiled softly as the pair walked in the near-total darkness of the passageway. “Not far, or at least nowhere near the nave.”
“Everything all right?”
“The dreams have returned,” she sighed.
“Which dreams?” Ben asked. He thought back to what she had told him in the clearing near the Ancient woods —the dreams of him, which were all different, yet the consistent conclusion was that he killed her in the end. “Ah, the ones of me…”
“Not those, my heart. The dreams of my life here at the temple.” She stopped walking before the end of the hallway, and Ben turned to face her.
“What were they about?” he asked Ann; the ever-burning torches dimly illuminated her features in the entrance chamber.
“The days leading to my flight from the temple. The others. The reason for me deciding to leave in search of you instead of waiting for you to come to me.”
“The other Candidates?”
“Yes,” she said as she leaned forward and took his hands in hers. “If you would, I’d like to show you?”
Ben winced, his shoulder not quite healed from the injury inflicted by the Matron and the subsequent ‘treatment’ he’d received from his Keeper. The slight twitch of his muscles caused Ann’s eyes to widen.
“Forgive me, my darling,” she said before her familiar regenerative Aura enveloped him.
“Don’t worry about it. And thanks,” he said as he nodded gratefully at the warmth her magic provided. “Sure, if you’re up for it. Show me.”
Ann quietly led him to the narthex and turned into an archway beside the one Ethel had taken him through. The pair walked down another long, dark passageway that had a subtle gradient to it. They were descending.
“I noticed you found the spell book Master Jaste was preparing for you,” she commented during the long walk in the dark. “Have you begun reading it?”
Ben swallowed; his hand was on her shoulder, and he frowned as he wondered how the woman saw in the dark. He thought perhaps she knew the temple so well that she didn’t need light to navigate its halls. “Not yet. I… I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Of course. I apologize,” she said, not unkindly.
The winding hallway eventually led to a large open chamber with several doors lining its walls. Ben thought the room must have been some common area for the clergy, as there were a few dusty benches, tables, and bookshelves scattered around the space —the same ever-burning torches were suspended high on the walls in sconces.
Ann led Ben to the middle of the room and stopped before turning to face him. “This is where the Acolytes slept, studied, and spent most of their free time. It’s where I spent a summer before being chosen by the Speakers.”
“Why did you leave?” Ben asked as his gaze swept the room. It appeared to have been abruptly abandoned as there were open books on tables and plates of long-ago rotten food. His mind turned to his subjects—the Faceless. The thought of the temple’s occupants being turned into creatures of nightmares sent a shiver down his spine.
“At first, my visions told a story of meeting the Harbinger under a cloudy sky, the smell of salt in the air, and the rustling of leaves in my ears. Amidst a dead… no, a dying forest.” She turned and beckoned him to follow. “My memory is… incomplete after being taken to the inner sanctum. Yet, I recall that I spent the evenings focused on my studies. The sessions with the Speakers are like a distant dream to me as if I’m met with a thick fog whenever I try to bring them to the fore.”
Ann opened a door on the far end of the room, and Ben made out several double-bunk beds in the dim light.
“This was where Harriette stayed. She was a girl of eight summers when I was called to serve.”
“Who was she to you?” Ben asked.
Ann stepped back from the doorway and gestured for him to follow her to the next room. “A friend. I was sixteen summers when we met. She was an orphan, or so I was told, so I suppose I was more of a big sister to her.”
Ben frowned. “An orphan… I see.”
Ann nodded and opened another door. The room was similar to the first sleeping quarters, yet there were several single beds against the walls as opposed to the bunk beds in the previous one. From what he could tell in the low light, the simple beds were neatly made.
“Me, Edith, and Lucianna. One of whom was my big sister as I was to Harriette… the other, a jealous rival. My tormentor.”
Ben placed a hand on Ann’s shoulder and met her gaze. “The same Lucianna we met in the embassy?”
“The very same,” she said, tone devoid of bite. As if she stated a fact without the emotion such a recollection should warrant, he thought. “Let’s sit for a while?” Ann said as she indicated to a bench in the center of the room.
Ben complied, and the pair sat together in the dim, flickering torchlight. He waited a while as they sat in silence, Ann seemingly gathering her thoughts and formulating her words.
“One day, when I neared the end of my instruction, about ten summers in the inner sanctum, the Priestesses of the Hand brought the first Candidate to my chambers. It was a boy of roughly ten summers old. They asked me if he was the one from my visions.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no, naturally. Yet, I was unaware of the consequences of my dismissal at that time.” Ann’s gaze grew unfocused. Distant. Her brows began to furrow. “They brought another the following evening, a young woman in her late teens. I was asked the same question, to which I replied with the same answer.”
“No?”
Ann nodded. “The girl, I later discovered, was Harriette. Days later, another was brought to my chambers. However, I recognized the Candidate at first glance.”
Ben’s brow creased. He nodded for Ann to continue.
“It was Edith. She looked… disturbed. No. Distraught? I can’t recall, but when the Priestesses of the hand asked me the same question, Edith cried out…” Ann closed her eyes tightly. “She said, ‘They killed her,’ and she would be next.”
“Annie-” Ben began.
“So, I lied,” Ann opened her eyes, glistening in the soft orange light. “I said she was the Herald in my visions… They took her, and I… I did nothing to stop them.” The blonde woman’s voice cracked. “The next morning, I went to my daily session with the Speakers to find her body strung above the altar upon which I had prayed every day for ten years. They killed her. They killed her even though I claimed her as the Harbinger of the Lord’s coming.”
“What did you do?” Ben asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder.
“I ran. They didn’t expect me to have advanced so far along my Path without instruction, so I was able to force my way out… until I was caught.” Ann shivered. “I believed it was all a test. A trial from Illephrre, which I endured for days. At the mercy of the order of the Hand.”
Ben gave Ann a reassuring squeeze. “Do you still believe that?”
“I… I don’t know. I told myself it was a test for the six years after my flight until I met you. I believed the Speakers had my best interests in mind. I was being sharpened. Being hardened for the trials that would come.”
“How did you manage to escape in the end?” Ben asked.
“It was the groundskeeper who secured safe passage for me. The cook, the cleaner. She showed me kindness where the Speakers and the order of the Hand did not.”
“What was her name?”
A clucking of a tongue drew their attention to the entrance of the large chamber. “And you had to come back before the boy was ready,” said a creaking, raspy voice.
“Etheldreda of the Aeyr. The first Keeper.”