He paused briefly, then carefully adjusted his robes to the side to avoid creasing them before kneeling. Maintaining eye contact for a moment, he slowly prostrated himself. From her vantage point, she noted the faint smile still lingering on his lips.

"How much of this is a performance? Are you truly under my charm?" she demanded. The sharpness of her question erased any trace of his smile, his body tensing.

"I... I don't understand," he stammered. The priest looked up, a rapid pulse visible at his throat. “The charm of the goddess is beyond us mortals.”

"Did I say you could look up?"

His gaze lowered again. "No, my apologies.”

Trying to make amends, the priest started moving in odd ways — first, his hands came together as if in prayer, then they swept apart dramatically. He twisted his fingers in elaborate patterns, like he was weaving an invisible thread through the air.

"What are you doing?"

He glanced downward. "I am sorry, Goddess. These are the summoning rites that you and your pantheon have passed down to us, but I have not practiced them in a long time.”

"Show me again.”

Obligingly, he repeated the gestures. They seemed smoother this time.

It was primal, a crude communion using vague gestures and the body as the focal point. There were no artifacts or runes, though she supposed she had given him no time.

But as a catalyst?

No. How could the church have something new in summoning her family didn't? Still... "Do you have a book of summoning rites, or a library?"

"Yes, we maintain a library," he confirmed. "It's in the east wing of the temple. Would you like to visit it now?"

She shook her head. "It is useless to me right now. Tell me, what is this chamber, and how do you know of it?"

He seemed even more hesitant but explained that all priest initiates are shown the chamber as part of their indoctrination into the Order.

She said nothing more, and he slumped, a picture of abject misery. His eyes were shut, his face creased with lines of discomfort and shame.

Watching him, an uncomfortable feeling twisted in her gut — a discomfort that sharpened into irritation. It seemed too much, unnecessarily pitiful, and somehow, it felt insulting to both of them. Yet, this posture was crucial for her safety and assessing the effectiveness of her charm.

In that long moment, her gaze wandered. The cold stone floor, the murals, the bright torch light, the near pitch-black passage they had traveled through. She tried to trace her steps back, winding up the staircase, past the balcony that looked over her peers, then down again, through more twisting corridors, then, back to the entrance where initiates waited their turn by the orb, passing between the guardians at the door.

No. The thought of brushing past the other priests and people and then past the guardians who’d stop her–

She’d follow her other peers out. The people that weren't chosen by the Order.

She would have to kill him, then. The priest knowing so much about her abilities was dangerous. If he figured out the full extent of her influence over him after she left, the consequences could be dire. Strangers might only sense a brief confusion, like a spell to muddle thoughts. But this situation? This was far more serious.

"Do you have any children?"

"No. My life is devoted to the Order."

"What about lovers? Someone who waits for you?"

"There is no one," he admitted. "My commitment is to my faith alone."

"And friends?" she pressed, though the pattern of his life was becoming clear.

"In the Order, camaraderie is common, but personal connections are rare. We are united in service, not in personal bonds.”

"I want genuine remorse,” she stated, her voice cold.

At her command, the priest visibly tensed, his body shuddering.

“Now, take the scepter. To prove your faith. To prove to me the truth of your belief."

He hesitated, then firmly refused. "As an adult, I understand the gravity of your request far better than you can comprehend. The consequences are too severe."

His answer was strange.

She walked closer to him. “I will restore you, life and limb.”

He shook his head. "It's blasphemous for anyone not chosen or the goddess herself to wield it, even as a test.”

She gazed at the priest, her stare prolonged and intense. Fear crept in, the realization of the danger she’d be in becoming painfully clear. The charm's effect would not last indefinitely, and once it faded, he might seek retribution if he remembered everything. The thought of overpowering him was daunting; he, like all in the Order, was robust, a trait shared even among the elders, both men and women.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Can't you just forget about me? Forget about the last hour?" she asked.

His confusion was palpable. "How can I simply erase memories? Much less of a goddess?”

"For the goddess's sake, perhaps a... significant tap to the head might help. Just enough to... pause your thoughts for a while?"

He nodded immediately. In a startling display of obedience, he moved towards the nearest wall, positioning himself as if readying to ram his head against it.

Before he could inflict harm upon himself, she interjected hastily, “There’s no need. Follow me. You will be my follower for life. You will act when I tell you to, and not until then, unless it is to defend my life.”

Looking relieved yet solemn, he responded, "As you command, Goddess. Your will is mine to follow."

"Are there any secret passages I could use to avoid detection?"

He paused, then admitted, "There are none that I know of."

They began retracing their steps. She summoned the orb of light once more, pushing back the darkness as they made their way through the tunnel. Passing her peers again, she saw they were still absorbed in their tasks, unchanged. They met a few priests in the corridors, exchanging brief nods. Each priest was focused on their own responsibilities, paying little mind to them.

She took extra care during these moments, choosing silence over speech, averting her gaze, and even holding her breath. She feared any interaction might activate the charm.

Once certain they were alone, she turned to him, a question pressing on her mind. "Will it raise suspicions if you simply leave with me?"

He shook his head slightly. "It shouldn't, as long as we're discreet. I'll tell anyone who asks that you're here to consult on a matter of spiritual importance."

“What if you’re gone for a significant period of time?”

He smiled grimly. “Anything for the goddess. Should my absence raise eyebrows, I’ll simply state that I was summoned for an urgent consultation with a neighboring guild. My duties here can be managed by my subordinates in my stead.”

"And if someone checks on this?" she asked, skeptical of the ease with which he seemed to brush aside the potential complications.

“In that scenario, I have allies prepared to confirm my story,” he reassured.

She paused, but it wasn't long before she agreed. “Alright, get me out.”

Just a few steps from the chamber where her peers were still queued for the orb ceremony, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for what came next. The priest, positioned to her right, acted as a shield, mostly obscuring her from the view of others. Without fanfare, they walked out.

Despite the short distance to the exit, their departure caught everyone's attention. In a room where little had changed for quite some time, with the only item of interest at the front, their exit was like a ripple in still water, pulling gazes and whispers. But for all the glances, none seemed to recognize her. Only whispers followed them out.

"She seemed so determined."

"Leaving now? I hope everything's alright with her..."

"Could it be a special summons? Only a few receive such honors."

"Some say there are greater tasks beyond this ceremony. Perhaps she's one of the chosen."

"But why her?"

"Looks like she might be facing something big. Hope she's prepared..."

Nothing was said about the priest.

Exiting through the side, they navigated a cobblestone path lined with neatly trimmed hedges. Ahead, another priest leading a group of her peers glanced back in surprise, but her priest waved off any questions with a casual gesture.

Muffled voices and the occasional shout sounded around them as they walked. Peering through the gaps in the hedges, she caught glimpses of people and stalls.

The pathway meandered, and as they rounded the final bend, the path opened into a vibrant courtyard, bathed in the late afternoon sun. She squinted against the light, stepping into the lively scene. Tables and stalls were everywhere, manned by representatives from various professions, all calling out to passersby.

"Discover your potential with us."

"Join the guard, protect the realm."

"Ride with the cavalry, feel the thrill of the charge.”

"Summon the future, shape your destiny.”

Her eyes caught the distinct setup of a summoning stall. There were elaborate banners and a small crowd gathered around it. Her gut tightened. The likelihood of encountering a family member or a recognizable face was high. Without hesitation, she veered away, directing her steps towards the stalls that promised anonymity and safety.

"Artisans and crafters wanted.”

"Weave magic into cloth."

"Build with us."

Her peers shared their aspirations and abilities openly.

"I can enhance materials, make them stronger," one claimed.

Another said, "I've always wanted to design buildings that could withstand any disaster."

She moved as silently as she could, saying nothing, looking at nothing while shielded by her priest. Yet, the recruiters, even if they were busy with other people, perked up as she passed.

"You look like someone with a keen eye for detail. Perfect for crafting!”

"You carry yourself like a leader; the guard could use someone like you," another pitched.

Some even broke from the anchors of their stalls, trailing her with eager steps. "Wait, hear me out! You have the aura of someone destined for greatness.”

Despite the warmth in their invitations, she remained silent, pushing forward through the crowd. But then she had her peers to contend with. A few, caught up in their excitement, brushed against her, their apologies quick. They all seemed to do a double-take at her, their smiles wide.

"If you need a crew, come with us."

“There's something about you. What did the orb give you?"

"Got that leader aura. What plans do you have next?"

The attention was overwhelming, unrelenting. Worsening with every minute that passed and with every gaze that found her.

As recruiters pointed out guilds and locations, her pace slowed to a near crawl, the world around her accelerating in a dizzying blur of offers and voices. Her peers, catching wind of the recruiters' pitches, were quick to add their own support. They raced ahead to clear a path, handed over water, recounted their ceremony experiences, suggested quiet spots for rest, pointed out helpful guides, and even offered to carry her belongings — all without her solicitation, all without her uttering a single word.

It was as if she had stepped into a dream, but the reality of it edged closer to a nightmare. Everywhere she turned, eyes followed, and voices reached out, pulling her in a thousand directions.

The priest had found himself pushed far to the side. He attempted to return to her side but found himself hemmed in by the sea of bodies. He tried to catch her eye, gesturing towards his blade, signaling his readiness to defend her, but she couldn't see his hands through the throng.

"Need help?"

"The orb, it's like—"

"Found this spot, it's—"

"Got leftovers, want some—?"

"Guide knows—"

"Energy surge after the orb—"

"Quiet spot, just there—"

"Eastern wing, you seen—?"

"Heading up front, looks like trouble—"

"Every stone, history—"

"Don't worry, moving on—"

She slammed her hands together. "Enough!"