Before she continued, we were moved to a nice sitting room with polished wooden floors, expensive fur couches, and the smell of rosemary filling the air. They told me to hold my questions until the end of the story, and in the mean time I was given a drink and some snacks.

"The hero of the heart is the only hero with a stereotype associated with them." The head priest started, holding a cup of tea and wafting colored steam as she spoke. "They are associated with understanding, healing, and tears," she said, pausing to take a sip. "This usually meant that the heroes were either young, sick, or "damaged," the air quotes left hanging.

"The hero of hearts was summoned by a wealthy family; they had made a small fortune finding and selling artifacts, and one day they uncovered the method to summon heroes again." As she spoke, her demeanor became more pitying. "They summoned a young boy and adopted him as their son."

"At first, the child acted like any other and loved his new parents very much; the issue again lied with corruption." An odd breeze flowed in; it felt longing and sad. "The corruption tried to make him heartless, yet he had used it before it could influence the young boy; this led to a dichotomy where he loved his family yet cared not for anything else."

"Five years later, the couple had a daughter, and the son would lavish her with gifts; it was then that it became clear that something was wrong." The wind now has enough force to flutter the papers on the table; it feels longing yet angry. "At first he brought a book and a tiara, then he brought herbs that raised one's talents, then he brought the heads of a beasts, enchanted to act as guardians and friends for the girl." The tea has gotten cold, and the edges have gone green with frost.

"He brought gifts each month; by the first year he had brought enough treasure to buy a small country with, by the second he had given enough weapons to make kingdoms quake, and by the third he had slain a dragon and presented its heart." The candles have been fluttering since the wind's entrance, but now they've burst back into full strength.

"One day, his sister and he were talking about what family is." She paused, as her hair was now flying all over the place. "They came to the conclusion that family is founded on love of both home and people, so brother assisted the family's estate, which grew into a village, then a town, then a country, then a kingdom, then an empire." She spoke as she inserted silver clips to hold down her hair. "It still stands today, if you are wondering," having read my expression of imminent dread.

Stolen novel; please report.

"This empire was called the Chest Content, named after the family name Chestdew, and they grew without conflict, both internal and external, for three decades straight." Her eyes now glassy as she looked beyond the room.

"The daughter was by then a beautiful maiden still eligible for marriage by the combined power of the son’s gifts, and she fell in love with a knight from a foreign country." The room got more chaotic by the end. "The son was approving of such a marriage and prepared for the festivities."

"It was said that the wedding day was so breathtaking that dozens of immortal monarchs died as a result of their oaths being fulfilled." A resonance has started to build, like the rolling of a storm building behind my eyes. "No less than two days later, the daughter was found dead, all her treasures either broken or stolen." A shock rolled through both myself and the invisible pressure. Tears threatened to burst behind my eyes.

"Who would harm such a girl?" The question came out of me without much thought. The priest faraway look broke, now looking down on me with a serios voice "Assassins of the moon; a group made by group of immortal thieves and assassins whose main goal was the thrill of the hunt." She motioned to the curtains. Trusting both my gut instincts and the pressure, I stood up and opened them. "There’s a ring?" The night sky was ringed by a what looked like a multicolored constellation, the biggest sections looking like shooting stars.

"Those were the moons." She said, a bit bored. "Moons as in multiple?" To that she responded more enthusiastically "Yes we had twelve moons, one lost during the first lord, another by a mad wizard, ten by one man." The light from the ring shone more intensely as if affronted by such a short description.

“The son died of old age, single, as the emperor of the most powerful nation,” She finished the room calming as the story came to an end. But that wasn’t on my mind, I wanted to know more, I knew the was more to the story. Suddenly the pressure disappeared as well, leaving ne a bit disoriented. “That was from some young fay, they have an appetite for story’s,” She responded my questing look.

“You have two questions left, the one for this story and the other at the end of why you are here.” She stood up then and left the room, only me and the smell of rosemary in the room.