For a while, they talked about nothing of importance. Both taking care not to intrude into topics that were too heavy to be discussed right now, and eventually, they traveled in silence. The Sinner was content with it; she passed time by breathing. As always, when she got tired, she had trouble breathing, as if something would clinch a hand around her neck.

She tried to meditate, for a while but it didn’t work. So she settled for petting Mei’s head that by now was uncomfortably heavy in her lap.

Eventually, the sun had been replaced by the stars, she carefully put it down on the planks and stood up. Her knees protested at first but after a bit of stretching, standing seemed better for her.

Lian’s face was contorted in concentration and exhaustion. He seemed to fight with himself against the desire to ask her for help.

“Allow me”, she said, putting a hand on the pole.

“What?”

“I can do it for now”, she said.

“No, it’s alright.” His grip tightened around the pole. “We’re almost there.”

“Lian”, she said with force in her voice, “let me do that. We are not taking the usual harbor, anyway.”

He shrugged and stepped aside. “Well, suit yourself”, he said and sat down.

She smiled. She took the pole and began propelling the vessel herself. It was not as smooth and elegant as it had been when she took command over Captain Omeyega’s vessel but good enough.

“Where are we going?”, Lian asked after he had become aware that they really weren’t heading for the port.

“There”, the Sinner said and pointed at a cliff that was hardly visible in the darkness.

“We are going to a cliff?!”, Lian asked.

“Relax”, she said. “There’s a watcher waiting for us.”

“Oh… how do you know?”

She grinned. “Well, I can feel her.”

“Oh.”

When they neared the cliff, the water around them seemed to rise. Mei woke up and neighed in silent panic. “Shhh, it’s okay sweetie”, the Sinner said.

“What is happening?!” Lian was almost as unable to hide his fear as the mule.

“It’s okay”, the Sinner repeated. “We are just rising.”

They were, in fact, rising to the cliff’s edge and carried into an artificial river. At the end was one single dock for one vessel at a time. A watcher stood there, a lit torch illuminated her face. She looked just like every other watcher and was clad in the same dark clothing. Except for a cord of woven silver threat fastened around her waist.

Alarm welled up in the Sinner, but she couldn’t help but smile. “Sister”, she said under her breath in greeting.

Next to her, Lian bowed formally. “Sentinel”, he murmured. “What an honor.”

The Sentinel returned the Sinner’s smile and gave a quick nod to Lian. “Thank you for bringing back the Sinner safely”, she said. Her voice was smooth and warm, betraying a kindness her face did not express.

Lian blushed. “Nothing to thank me for, really.”

The Sinner held up a hand, stopping the Sentinel and Lian all the same from engaging in a very formal, long-winded conversation she had no time for. “Please, sister”, she said, “would you escort him to a quarter? I think my duty calls me to elsewhere.”

The Sentinel nodded. “Of course, sister. Should I take care of Mei, too?”

The Sinner glanced at her mule, still dizzy from the drug she had given her. “That’d be too kind”, she said.

“Then it’ll be done.”

The Sinner nodded and gave Lian a formal and stiff goodbye before rushing off. Hopefully, she would find time to properly see him off later. But her mind was already on other matters. Why by all the gods had the Sentinel been down here? That spot was supposed to be guarded by two watchers, not by the Sentinel. Her only responsibility was the security of the Saint. Had something happened?

For the first time in the last years, it wasn’t the sins that made it hard for her to breathe, it was anxiety. She rushed through the dark passage, adrenalin giving her a rush she should not have been able to have. At the end of the passage, after inclines, twists, and turns, she wheezed. A locked door blocked her path, and her trembling fingers made it hard to catch the key, that was fastened around her neck on a simple cord. Finally, she thrust it into the lock and the door swung open.

For a second, the familiarity of the place crushed over her like a wave of cool water. Marble floors and red pillars, white walls, and windows deep enough that they seemed like doors. But the peace that place should bring, did not last. She rushed over the red carpet until she came to a door where finally a pair of guards were posted. Those watchers wore armor made from gold and their long moon swords reassured her. “Sinner”, they said. But she had no time for them. Behind that door was her answer. Behind that door was her home. Behind that door.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She knocked.

“Come in!”, a voice like a pond, deep and clear, answered. The voice she had traveled across the ocean to come back to.

She opened the heavy door slowly, suddenly very aware of her unwashed skin, her dirty clothing, her fast heartbeat. Aware of her fear.

She stepped inside and immediately bowed, while she heard the door behind her fall shut.

“Saint, I -“ She didn’t finish the sentence. Strong arms embraced her, pulled her close to a warm body, with a steady heartbeat. “Finally”, the Saint said, “you are finally back.”

Her body went almost limb with the sensations that now jumped on her like panthers on prey. She had missed him. So much. His voice, his warmth. The feeling of the distributed weight of the world on their shoulders. She had almost forgotten how good it felt being not one person but a pillar in a pair.

She allowed herself to sink deeper in his embrace, his head rested on top of hers and for a moment, she only listened to his heartbeat. Until she pushed away from him and he — reluctantly — let her go.

She studied his face. There was more gray in his hair than she remembered, and he had trimmed his beard. She touched the creases on his face. They had not been worn as deeply when she had left.

He smiled. “What are you thinking?”

“You look old”, she said softly.

“Mh, you only think that because you haven’t seen me in a long time.”

“Possible”, she said. Then, her demeanor changed. “I’m back. And I need absolution.”

Worry danced over his face. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? You seem… tired.”

That would be the understatement of the century. In all the tongues she spoke she had no words to describe how utterly exhausted she was. She shook her head nonetheless. “Tonight”, she said. “Now.”

He nodded but his eyes betrayed how tense he was. He knew as well as she did, that whatever they did right now could kill her. The longer she was without penance, the weaker she got. The weaker she was while she atoned, the easier she could die.

In a corner of his study was a door, that door let to one of the rooms she occupied.

It was a tiny room: on the stone floor stood two benches. One made from wood, one from iron. The wooden one had a pillow on it, the iron one was barren.

The Saint lit the brazier and the Sinner sat down on the cold iron bench. Her clothes did not protect her from the hard, cold underground. They shouldn’t.

She pushed up the sleeves of her caftan so that both her wrists were exposed. The Saint, facing her on the other bench, gently took one wrist in each hand.

“Tell me”, he began, “what weights down thy heart, my Sinner?”

She took a deep breath. “My heart is weighed down by what I did, Saint. In the last five years I killed a grandmother”, a sharp pain twitched through her wrist, as if somebody had hit her with a bamboo cane, “three mothers”, her wrist reddened significantly, the pain increased. “Five sisters”, a cut appeared, the Sinner blinked back the tears in her eyes. “Five daughters”, blood began to ooze out of the wound and ran down her arm, “and two granddaughters.” Another gush in her arm began to bleed.

When she started on all the males, her other wrist began to hurt, open up and bleed, until at the end a puddle of blood had formed around her feet, her arms, her clothes were soaked in it. Tears and sweat ran over her skin and she shivered violently. She clenched her jaw, determined not to pass out until the ritual was completed.

The Saint's hands, tinted from all the blood she had lost, were the only thing she still saw clearly.

“I forgive thee, my Sinner”, he said. “And I thank thee for holding back the darkness from my heart.”

“It is … my duty… and … my gift… to the people.”

The ground came rushing towards her, and she felt the Saint’s hands grabbing her before everything went black.