RE: Monarch
Author: Eligos
Chapter 277: Kholis XXII
There's a quiet joy that comes with love—one that's easy to forget until you find yourself mired in its clutches once more. The gentle warmth of skin against skin. Desire kindling into passion, crescendoing into ecstasy before crashing back down to desire again, diminished but never gone. Losing track of where you end and the other person begins. Laughing because the tension is finally gone, that knot of what-could-be finally giving way to what is. Being surprised, and surprising in return.
Steady breaths in unison. A feeling of belonging so all-encompassing and complete that the idea of being without it is more unbearable than being alone in the first place.
It was a dance I'd danced often in my first life. The music was familiar enough to hum by heart, every step instinctive. Yet every time I danced before, there was always a question. Are we here for the same thing? Are you enjoying this as much as me? Will you stay, after?
Is it right?
I'd always assumed those questions were rhetorical—that the answers were private things meant to be intuited. And, as she often did, Maya surprised me. She was the first person I'd ever encountered who seemed comfortable saying it all aloud. Because of that, there were no questions that remained unanswered, no quiet anxieties that went unaddressed. Sometime in the middle of that long overdue night, I realized how special it was. To trust completely and have that trust returned.
Once we finally collapsed beside each other, bodies glistening and spent, my mind wandered to places generally avoided. To the future beyond my coronation.
What our lives would look like once there was no threat, no mounting tension, no disaster to be had. If she chose to, Maya would continue her work as a diplomat, with Lucius perhaps, or from the infernal side of things if that's what she preferred. I'd aspire to be the most mind-numbingly boring ruler Uskar had ever seen, forcing anything I could to raise our wealth and prosperity while keeping the country from eating itself. Meanwhile, we'd quietly and collectively devote whatever time and resources gained from that approach to prepare for Ragnarok. Looking at historical precedent, there'd be no pressure to produce an heir until there was peace, and there wouldn't be peace for some time.
We could have a life together. It wouldn't always be this perfect, and making it work would require effort from both of us, but it was possible. I wanted it.
And after the night of whispered words, I was sure that was what she wanted too.
Sleep had been cruelly brief. A line of sunlight glowed through the opening in the curtain, lancing warmth across my forehead, harsh white making my eyes water. Maya was nestled beneath my arm and mostly hidden in shadow, her features slack and peaceful as she slumbered softly. Gently mussed violet hair framed her face, lips parted in a gentle 'o'.
I slipped away carefully, swearing beneath my breath as the bed creaked beneath me. The floorboards flexed slightly, and I smiled in satisfaction as my feet contacted the sun-warmed surface. Something encircled my arm, startling me badly, until I saw the spade tip and realized who it belonged to.
"Putting me in binds already?" I asked. Upon waking, she'd retreated further under the covers.
She wiped sleep from her eyes, her voice throaty and uneven. "Where are you going?"
"To fetch our breakfast, of course. Along with a few other things."
Maya made a satisfied noise and rolled back over, looking overwhelmingly pleased. She cracked one eye open. "Should I help?"
"No, rest."
"I'm more than capable."
"That's not in question. However, our appetites were rather large—"
Blanket draped around her shoulders, Maya stopped halfway through rising from the bed, half stooped, palm pressed to her lower body. "Ow. Oh
Lord below that stings." She gingerly lowered herself back down, grimacing as she did so, then glared at me in accusation. "What happened to being gentle?"
"I
" I put a hand to my chest, scandalized. "You were insatiable."
"No." She pulled the blanket back over herself.
"'Ni'lend, we should pace ourselves. If we don't, your flesh will pay for it tomorrow.'"
"You never said that."
"I definitely did."
"If so, it was said with a hushed, needy voice that invited the opposite."
"So you ignored me and that was my fault."
"Yes."
"Fair enough."
I couldn't even bring myself to pretend to be annoyed. In truth, I was insufferably happy—so happy it was difficult to contain.
The soft texture of the bed suddenly dropped beneath me. The frame's corner impacting the floorboards with a resounding bang that spilled me off with a surprised cry that filtered into laughter. Wood skidded against wood as the emancipated leg slid out from beneath the mattress that Maya now clung to. The lithid's dark talon had snapped into existence, pulling the frame up and keeping it balanced on the remaining three feet.
"You broke the bed?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't entirely my fault."
"We have to fix it." Maya looked horrified. "If Julius sends servants over to tidy the place in our absence, they are going to tell him we
"
"Probably best to avoid that." I winced at the thought of the Duke's smug expression. I searched the room and found a small sturdy box in one of the closets. No hint of a hammer and nails, but the box would do for now. I took my find out of the closet and used it as a temporary leg. "Shouldn't be too hard. Just kick back and relax. I'll be back soon."
I threw on the rest of my clothes, a zest in my step. The last day was always the most important part of a holiday, and we were already off to a fantastic start.
Maya's voice was so quiet I almost missed it. "Are we still going to the Everwood before we leave? After we see the Timbermours and finalize our arrangements?"
I couldn't help but smile. "To speak our vows before the gods?"
"Whatever remains of them to hear us." She nodded, drawing her knees along with the blanket to her chin. "We cannot know what the future will bring. How our lives will intertwine. I do not care, so long as they do. And we know what we are, even if every other living soul does not."
It felt right. In the same way it had always felt right. There was a tightness in my throat. "I can't think of anything better. Should we wear something formal? Proper?"
Maya smiled, then shook her head. "That would be a dream. But anyone who saw us enter the forest together would have questions. We should just come as we are. However we happen to be."
"However we happen to be." I rolled it around. "I like that."
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
A shadow crossed her face.
"What is it?"
"I want to ask something. And it may be silly. For all I know, it only worked in the first place because of circumstances beyond our understanding, or because the sanctum is, in many ways, a magical conduit. It's like I've read the first act of a book and turned the next page only to discover the middle pages have been torn out."
"I don't follow."
Her fingers clutched the bedspread beside her, tightening subconsciously. "When I glimpsed your mind, saw your memories, childhood, victories and failures—that was precious to me, in a way that's hard to describe. Because that was the first time I fully understood you. Everything I'd previously questioned made sense. You weren't some full-of-himself human with astronomically good luck. You suffered. Threw yourself against the wall over and over for the smallest of steps forward. And I wanted to see it. To share it all. At your side."
I leaned against the door frame. "And then fate took that away from us.
took that away from us."
Her laughter startled me. "I'm not so clingy as that." With a pained grunt, she rose from the bed and approached with grace, almost gliding across the floor, the trim of her nightgown gliding around her neck. "There will be times
wrests us away from each other. That is to be expected of a king. But I don't like missing pages. It is... less satisfying when the story is incomplete."
It hit me at once what she was suggesting. In the Sanctum, she'd looked into my mind, seen my entire life up to that point. The idea was stunning. For the most part I was enamored, albeit irritated I'd never considered it before. "I thought what happened that day only happened because our souls were intertwined. Can we even do that again?"
Maya held her hands to the side nervously. "Can't say for sure. Never tried it. Using my magic to root around in someone's mind is always something I've tried to avoid. But I've noticed whenever I heal you that your mind feels... more accessible than others. Ever since that day. So it's possible. Probably wouldn't see everything at once, the way I did in the Sanctum." She glanced at me, uncertain. "But I think you could show me, if you wanted. Memory by memory. Maybe that's too much to ask for."
It struck me that Maya had come up with a solution to the problem she'd broached before we'd left the capital—the separation that would eventually divide us, should more resets come to pass.
I felt relief and a small jolt of happiness. "We'll be spending plenty of time together. If you want to spend some portion of it rooting around in my head, I have nothing to hide."
She embraced me then and kissed my neck, squeezing tightly. "Thank you."
"Alright." My heart hammered in my throat as I stepped away. "So, I'm going into town to pick up a few poultices and an ointment, along with a hammer and some nails. And a bite to eat. We'll meet our friends for a meal at noon. After that, we'll walk into the Everwood together and speak our vows." My mouth went dry as I said it.
"I like that plan." Maya smiled. The light from the window caught her eye, shining through her violet hair—love and whimsy given form.
And I could see it. The two of us, walking beside the river in Kholis twenty years from now, when the current struggle was nothing more than a distant memory.
"Okay. Yes. Great. I'll be back soon." I backed out of the room, not wanting to turn away from her until the last possible moment.
"Be safe," she called after me.
/////
Suddenly in a hurry, I left the comfort of the house behind.
Kholis itself seemed to be experiencing a city's version of a hangover. The trees throughout the city and surrounding forest were mostly bare now, a somber chill in the air promising more to come. Long fingers of bare branches created an unsettling addition to the atmosphere. Still, it was clear and blue, without a cloud to be had. An odd pressure pushed in on my skull as I stepped outside, which was strange—Kholis was the lowest point for miles, surrounded by distant mountains in several directions beyond the Everwood's clutches.
I whistled a children's tune, casually scanning for locations I'd spotted the previous evening. The hammer and nails came easiest, courtesy of a heavily browed light elf. The poultices and ointments came from a registered apothecary further down the street, a middle-aged infernal with spectacles that reminded me of an old friend.
"It is my duty—no, joy. Joy is better, she's not a chore." I murmured my vows to myself. It was easy enough to come up with good vows if one spoke from the heart. But I didn't want to settle for good. Which meant picking the perfect words, the ones she'd remember. "It is my dearest joy to have met you in this life. A life that while short, has seen both great victories and been laden with heavy sorrows—no, none of that. Focus on the positive."
I spotted the food stall, the same place I'd purchased the stew ingredients from, and considered perusing it again. Until I saw the spiral horns of the infernal priest from the other day. He'd been kind enough and accommodating, but his head snapped to me as I approached, hand resting on the cart's surface, as if he was toying with the idea of pushing off and heading my way.
With a degree of guilt, I decided to avoid the interaction. We'd already spoken at length; he'd probably already gleaned more about me than was wise if I intended to avoid scandal and return here in the future. He'd likely pick up on the hint, and I could go about my day.
A strong hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Was your visit to my temple so unpleasant, my young friend?" Baal's voice was neutral, if not a little hurt.
Simultaneously caught out and caught-in-the-act, I slowly turned, grinning my warmest, most amicable smile. "Not at all, I was just—"
"Attempting to avoid anything that resembles a priest after a night of sin and debauchery?" the priest asked.
It felt like a rope had tightened around my throat. "...No?"
"Uh-huh. You and everyone else. Watch." He turned slightly toward a beleaguered busker who half-staggered in our direction, carrying a lute over his shoulder like a club. When he finally noticed the waiting priest, the busker pulled his hat down and walked in the other direction. "It is a common occurrence at least a day after festivals, sometimes longer. The clergy become existentially repellent."
Great, he wasn't reading my mind. I liked the man, so I leveled with him. "Apologies, your holiness. It's nothing so untoward. I was just in a bit of a hurry."
"No matter." He moved on quickly, brow furrowed. "In truth, our meeting has weighed heavily on my mind. Specifically, your prayer."
"Ah. Did Infaris send word back?"
"How easy things would be if it was as simple as that. Priests could be couriers instead of counselors." Baal shook his head. He seemed edgier than before. "About your prayer."
The words of supplication came back to me—how heated and raw they were, how alarming they must have sounded to an outside observer.
"Apologies. I was troubled. It's been a difficult few—"
"You've nothing to apologize for. I felt the truth in your words, and if she was listening, so did the goddess." He paused again, his eyes searching my face. "I felt your pathos. Enough to know you've been dealt more than your fair share."
Annoyance flared, and I angled myself away from him, waiting for an opening to leave. "With all due respect, I'd rather speak on this topic later, your holiness. My morning was sublime, and I'd like to keep the horse at a trot."
The priest winced. If I had to guess, this wasn't the sort of thing he did often. He stayed in his temple and let the faithful come to him. I wasn't sure why he seemed so fixated, but for some reason, I couldn't quite bring myself to walk away.
He held my gaze. "It's obvious that you've endured much and found some semblance of closure, regardless. That alone is commendable. Many who live through great tragedies never learn to move on from them. Grief... is a terrible miasma."
"Is that your message?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral with effort.
"There is no message." The priest shook his head, showing a flash of frustration. "These are not the words of Infaris, just those of a demon-kin with little standing who listens to the prayers of those around him."
"And what have you heard?"
"Your animus. You spoke it to Infaris as unfiltered truth." He stated plainly. "Terrible occurrences happen every day. Mortals do their best to make sense of them. Often we try to see the pattern. Discern meaning from it. Often, we are wrong."
A candle of anger flickered in my chest. "You know nothing."
"That is true. Your mind and your trials are your own." The priest agreed easily, unaffected. "But grief can cloud the mind."
I shook my head. "I cannot change my course."
"And I cannot say for certain it is the wrong one." The priest agreed, then added thoughtfully. "All I'd ask is that as you carry out whatever your duty might be, keep your eyes and ears open. Challenge your perceptions. That is what the goddess would want."
"Is that all?"
"That's all." The priest stepped away, having trouble keeping eye contact.
Kholis was a good place. A place where people greeted you no matter where you hailed from. A place where priests not only remembered your prayers but ruminated on them long after the temple doors were closed. Something in my supplication had alarmed the man, and instead of reporting or avoiding me altogether, he'd cared enough to track me down and discuss it. Even if I had given a terrible impression, he was a great priest.
It would probably be best to make a moderate tithe before I left. "What time do the temple doors open today?"
"Hm?"
My head snapped toward the din. It had come from the north, the direction we'd ridden in on. A flock of birds was rising up from the viridescent canopy of the Everwood. At first I assumed it was some sort of magic—maybe a detonation. "Busy morning at the mines?"
The priest took several steps forward, panning the north with an expression of muted worry. "No. The dwarves always take the day after a festival off."
Steady breaths in unison. A feeling of belonging so all-encompassing and complete that the idea of being without it is more unbearable than being alone in the first place.
It was a dance I'd danced often in my first life. The music was familiar enough to hum by heart, every step instinctive. Yet every time I danced before, there was always a question. Are we here for the same thing? Are you enjoying this as much as me? Will you stay, after?
Is it right?
I'd always assumed those questions were rhetorical—that the answers were private things meant to be intuited. And, as she often did, Maya surprised me. She was the first person I'd ever encountered who seemed comfortable saying it all aloud. Because of that, there were no questions that remained unanswered, no quiet anxieties that went unaddressed. Sometime in the middle of that long overdue night, I realized how special it was. To trust completely and have that trust returned.
Once we finally collapsed beside each other, bodies glistening and spent, my mind wandered to places generally avoided. To the future beyond my coronation.
What our lives would look like once there was no threat, no mounting tension, no disaster to be had. If she chose to, Maya would continue her work as a diplomat, with Lucius perhaps, or from the infernal side of things if that's what she preferred. I'd aspire to be the most mind-numbingly boring ruler Uskar had ever seen, forcing anything I could to raise our wealth and prosperity while keeping the country from eating itself. Meanwhile, we'd quietly and collectively devote whatever time and resources gained from that approach to prepare for Ragnarok. Looking at historical precedent, there'd be no pressure to produce an heir until there was peace, and there wouldn't be peace for some time.
We could have a life together. It wouldn't always be this perfect, and making it work would require effort from both of us, but it was possible. I wanted it.
And after the night of whispered words, I was sure that was what she wanted too.
Sleep had been cruelly brief. A line of sunlight glowed through the opening in the curtain, lancing warmth across my forehead, harsh white making my eyes water. Maya was nestled beneath my arm and mostly hidden in shadow, her features slack and peaceful as she slumbered softly. Gently mussed violet hair framed her face, lips parted in a gentle 'o'.
I slipped away carefully, swearing beneath my breath as the bed creaked beneath me. The floorboards flexed slightly, and I smiled in satisfaction as my feet contacted the sun-warmed surface. Something encircled my arm, startling me badly, until I saw the spade tip and realized who it belonged to.
"Putting me in binds already?" I asked. Upon waking, she'd retreated further under the covers.
She wiped sleep from her eyes, her voice throaty and uneven. "Where are you going?"
"To fetch our breakfast, of course. Along with a few other things."
Maya made a satisfied noise and rolled back over, looking overwhelmingly pleased. She cracked one eye open. "Should I help?"
"No, rest."
"I'm more than capable."
"That's not in question. However, our appetites were rather large—"
Blanket draped around her shoulders, Maya stopped halfway through rising from the bed, half stooped, palm pressed to her lower body. "Ow. Oh
Lord below that stings." She gingerly lowered herself back down, grimacing as she did so, then glared at me in accusation. "What happened to being gentle?"
"I
" I put a hand to my chest, scandalized. "You were insatiable."
"No." She pulled the blanket back over herself.
"'Ni'lend, we should pace ourselves. If we don't, your flesh will pay for it tomorrow.'"
"You never said that."
"I definitely did."
"If so, it was said with a hushed, needy voice that invited the opposite."
"So you ignored me and that was my fault."
"Yes."
"Fair enough."
I couldn't even bring myself to pretend to be annoyed. In truth, I was insufferably happy—so happy it was difficult to contain.
The soft texture of the bed suddenly dropped beneath me. The frame's corner impacting the floorboards with a resounding bang that spilled me off with a surprised cry that filtered into laughter. Wood skidded against wood as the emancipated leg slid out from beneath the mattress that Maya now clung to. The lithid's dark talon had snapped into existence, pulling the frame up and keeping it balanced on the remaining three feet.
"You broke the bed?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't entirely my fault."
"We have to fix it." Maya looked horrified. "If Julius sends servants over to tidy the place in our absence, they are going to tell him we
"
"Probably best to avoid that." I winced at the thought of the Duke's smug expression. I searched the room and found a small sturdy box in one of the closets. No hint of a hammer and nails, but the box would do for now. I took my find out of the closet and used it as a temporary leg. "Shouldn't be too hard. Just kick back and relax. I'll be back soon."
I threw on the rest of my clothes, a zest in my step. The last day was always the most important part of a holiday, and we were already off to a fantastic start.
Maya's voice was so quiet I almost missed it. "Are we still going to the Everwood before we leave? After we see the Timbermours and finalize our arrangements?"
I couldn't help but smile. "To speak our vows before the gods?"
"Whatever remains of them to hear us." She nodded, drawing her knees along with the blanket to her chin. "We cannot know what the future will bring. How our lives will intertwine. I do not care, so long as they do. And we know what we are, even if every other living soul does not."
It felt right. In the same way it had always felt right. There was a tightness in my throat. "I can't think of anything better. Should we wear something formal? Proper?"
Maya smiled, then shook her head. "That would be a dream. But anyone who saw us enter the forest together would have questions. We should just come as we are. However we happen to be."
"However we happen to be." I rolled it around. "I like that."
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
A shadow crossed her face.
"What is it?"
"I want to ask something. And it may be silly. For all I know, it only worked in the first place because of circumstances beyond our understanding, or because the sanctum is, in many ways, a magical conduit. It's like I've read the first act of a book and turned the next page only to discover the middle pages have been torn out."
"I don't follow."
Her fingers clutched the bedspread beside her, tightening subconsciously. "When I glimpsed your mind, saw your memories, childhood, victories and failures—that was precious to me, in a way that's hard to describe. Because that was the first time I fully understood you. Everything I'd previously questioned made sense. You weren't some full-of-himself human with astronomically good luck. You suffered. Threw yourself against the wall over and over for the smallest of steps forward. And I wanted to see it. To share it all. At your side."
I leaned against the door frame. "And then fate took that away from us.
took that away from us."
Her laughter startled me. "I'm not so clingy as that." With a pained grunt, she rose from the bed and approached with grace, almost gliding across the floor, the trim of her nightgown gliding around her neck. "There will be times
wrests us away from each other. That is to be expected of a king. But I don't like missing pages. It is... less satisfying when the story is incomplete."
It hit me at once what she was suggesting. In the Sanctum, she'd looked into my mind, seen my entire life up to that point. The idea was stunning. For the most part I was enamored, albeit irritated I'd never considered it before. "I thought what happened that day only happened because our souls were intertwined. Can we even do that again?"
Maya held her hands to the side nervously. "Can't say for sure. Never tried it. Using my magic to root around in someone's mind is always something I've tried to avoid. But I've noticed whenever I heal you that your mind feels... more accessible than others. Ever since that day. So it's possible. Probably wouldn't see everything at once, the way I did in the Sanctum." She glanced at me, uncertain. "But I think you could show me, if you wanted. Memory by memory. Maybe that's too much to ask for."
It struck me that Maya had come up with a solution to the problem she'd broached before we'd left the capital—the separation that would eventually divide us, should more resets come to pass.
I felt relief and a small jolt of happiness. "We'll be spending plenty of time together. If you want to spend some portion of it rooting around in my head, I have nothing to hide."
She embraced me then and kissed my neck, squeezing tightly. "Thank you."
"Alright." My heart hammered in my throat as I stepped away. "So, I'm going into town to pick up a few poultices and an ointment, along with a hammer and some nails. And a bite to eat. We'll meet our friends for a meal at noon. After that, we'll walk into the Everwood together and speak our vows." My mouth went dry as I said it.
"I like that plan." Maya smiled. The light from the window caught her eye, shining through her violet hair—love and whimsy given form.
And I could see it. The two of us, walking beside the river in Kholis twenty years from now, when the current struggle was nothing more than a distant memory.
"Okay. Yes. Great. I'll be back soon." I backed out of the room, not wanting to turn away from her until the last possible moment.
"Be safe," she called after me.
/////
Suddenly in a hurry, I left the comfort of the house behind.
Kholis itself seemed to be experiencing a city's version of a hangover. The trees throughout the city and surrounding forest were mostly bare now, a somber chill in the air promising more to come. Long fingers of bare branches created an unsettling addition to the atmosphere. Still, it was clear and blue, without a cloud to be had. An odd pressure pushed in on my skull as I stepped outside, which was strange—Kholis was the lowest point for miles, surrounded by distant mountains in several directions beyond the Everwood's clutches.
I whistled a children's tune, casually scanning for locations I'd spotted the previous evening. The hammer and nails came easiest, courtesy of a heavily browed light elf. The poultices and ointments came from a registered apothecary further down the street, a middle-aged infernal with spectacles that reminded me of an old friend.
"It is my duty—no, joy. Joy is better, she's not a chore." I murmured my vows to myself. It was easy enough to come up with good vows if one spoke from the heart. But I didn't want to settle for good. Which meant picking the perfect words, the ones she'd remember. "It is my dearest joy to have met you in this life. A life that while short, has seen both great victories and been laden with heavy sorrows—no, none of that. Focus on the positive."
I spotted the food stall, the same place I'd purchased the stew ingredients from, and considered perusing it again. Until I saw the spiral horns of the infernal priest from the other day. He'd been kind enough and accommodating, but his head snapped to me as I approached, hand resting on the cart's surface, as if he was toying with the idea of pushing off and heading my way.
With a degree of guilt, I decided to avoid the interaction. We'd already spoken at length; he'd probably already gleaned more about me than was wise if I intended to avoid scandal and return here in the future. He'd likely pick up on the hint, and I could go about my day.
A strong hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Was your visit to my temple so unpleasant, my young friend?" Baal's voice was neutral, if not a little hurt.
Simultaneously caught out and caught-in-the-act, I slowly turned, grinning my warmest, most amicable smile. "Not at all, I was just—"
"Attempting to avoid anything that resembles a priest after a night of sin and debauchery?" the priest asked.
It felt like a rope had tightened around my throat. "...No?"
"Uh-huh. You and everyone else. Watch." He turned slightly toward a beleaguered busker who half-staggered in our direction, carrying a lute over his shoulder like a club. When he finally noticed the waiting priest, the busker pulled his hat down and walked in the other direction. "It is a common occurrence at least a day after festivals, sometimes longer. The clergy become existentially repellent."
Great, he wasn't reading my mind. I liked the man, so I leveled with him. "Apologies, your holiness. It's nothing so untoward. I was just in a bit of a hurry."
"No matter." He moved on quickly, brow furrowed. "In truth, our meeting has weighed heavily on my mind. Specifically, your prayer."
"Ah. Did Infaris send word back?"
"How easy things would be if it was as simple as that. Priests could be couriers instead of counselors." Baal shook his head. He seemed edgier than before. "About your prayer."
The words of supplication came back to me—how heated and raw they were, how alarming they must have sounded to an outside observer.
"Apologies. I was troubled. It's been a difficult few—"
"You've nothing to apologize for. I felt the truth in your words, and if she was listening, so did the goddess." He paused again, his eyes searching my face. "I felt your pathos. Enough to know you've been dealt more than your fair share."
Annoyance flared, and I angled myself away from him, waiting for an opening to leave. "With all due respect, I'd rather speak on this topic later, your holiness. My morning was sublime, and I'd like to keep the horse at a trot."
The priest winced. If I had to guess, this wasn't the sort of thing he did often. He stayed in his temple and let the faithful come to him. I wasn't sure why he seemed so fixated, but for some reason, I couldn't quite bring myself to walk away.
He held my gaze. "It's obvious that you've endured much and found some semblance of closure, regardless. That alone is commendable. Many who live through great tragedies never learn to move on from them. Grief... is a terrible miasma."
"Is that your message?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral with effort.
"There is no message." The priest shook his head, showing a flash of frustration. "These are not the words of Infaris, just those of a demon-kin with little standing who listens to the prayers of those around him."
"And what have you heard?"
"Your animus. You spoke it to Infaris as unfiltered truth." He stated plainly. "Terrible occurrences happen every day. Mortals do their best to make sense of them. Often we try to see the pattern. Discern meaning from it. Often, we are wrong."
A candle of anger flickered in my chest. "You know nothing."
"That is true. Your mind and your trials are your own." The priest agreed easily, unaffected. "But grief can cloud the mind."
I shook my head. "I cannot change my course."
"And I cannot say for certain it is the wrong one." The priest agreed, then added thoughtfully. "All I'd ask is that as you carry out whatever your duty might be, keep your eyes and ears open. Challenge your perceptions. That is what the goddess would want."
"Is that all?"
"That's all." The priest stepped away, having trouble keeping eye contact.
Kholis was a good place. A place where people greeted you no matter where you hailed from. A place where priests not only remembered your prayers but ruminated on them long after the temple doors were closed. Something in my supplication had alarmed the man, and instead of reporting or avoiding me altogether, he'd cared enough to track me down and discuss it. Even if I had given a terrible impression, he was a great priest.
It would probably be best to make a moderate tithe before I left. "What time do the temple doors open today?"
"Hm?"
My head snapped toward the din. It had come from the north, the direction we'd ridden in on. A flock of birds was rising up from the viridescent canopy of the Everwood. At first I assumed it was some sort of magic—maybe a detonation. "Busy morning at the mines?"
The priest took several steps forward, panning the north with an expression of muted worry. "No. The dwarves always take the day after a festival off."