As the initial anger and frustration faded, I realized this notification was a blessing in disguise.
After losing the Blue Tribe to the Night God, I had feared my chance to complete the Velmoryn Authority was gone. To gain it, I needed to raise my Rank and have 70% of the Velmoryns as devoted believers. Even without the absurd percentage requirement, the Rank-up alone demanded ten thousand Divinity Points, and that was a mountain on its own. Still, with the God of Merchants paying me a thousand every month, that was only a matter of time now.
But gathering 70% of the Velmoryns when the Blue Tribe had slipped out of my grasp… that was another problem entirely. Even if they made up slightly more than a fourth of all Velmoryns, the problem was that the remaining tribes weren’t fully committed to me either.
I ran through the numbers again, the same way I’d done countless times over the last days. Even if I tightened my grip on those I already held, even if I pushed harder and forced obedience where resistance lingered… what would that give me? More bodies under my influence, sure, but not hearts. The Guidance had made it painfully clear that bearing my mark alone meant nothing if their loyalty stopped at fear.
They needed to believe. Truly believe. And I couldn’t carve devotion into them using just force.
But now, with the Blue Tribe gone and the total Velmoryn number reduced, nearly half of the race already bore my mark. Once unification was complete, I would likely gain more than eighty percent. The path was clear again, and this time, within reach.
Which meant I needed to advance my Rank as quickly as possible and secure the Authority before another deity interfered. Even if it meant being forced out of the mortal realm and placed among the other gods. Running from the inevitable was no longer an option.
I was about to return to working on my new magic system when I heard Tekla’s voice. She was in the temple, standing beside the altar with Avenor and Aria.
“Father, the Velthwyn leader seeks to visit us to witness the Guardian,” she prayed with her eyes closed. “May they enter?”
I hadn’t expected her to ask. Over the last weeks, she had taken on more and more responsibilities, and I was certain she would decide this one on her own.
“A child standing on the edge of flight is meant to rise on a path they choose themselves,” I answered.
Tekla smiled, her cheeks gaining color as my voice reached her. “I shall strive even harder to never disappoint you, Father,” she whispered, excitement pushing her voice just a little louder than she intended. Enough for Avenor and Aria to hear.
“They may come,” she said quickly, blushing even deeper at her own clumsiness in letting a private promise spill into the open.
Then she shifted the subject almost immediately. “Avenor, the equipment you asked for is ready.”
“Thank you for telling me, Priestess,” he said, offering a small bow. “Is it already time? Should we go and see what’s outside?”
Tekla turned her head toward Aria, her eyes settling on her meaningfully.
“If I may, I would prefer to stay for a few weeks,” Aria replied shortly, but continued when Tekla’s stare lingered, clearly expecting her to elaborate. “I asked Vaelari to help me create a catalyst for Essences. I hope he can finish it before leaving, since the journey will be long. If I’m given the choice, I want to use every moment to strengthen my magic.”
Her words sounded sincere enough, and it softened Tekla’s expression. She gave a small smile and nodded. She already knew about the catalyst.
“I am certain a short delay will not harm our cause, nor will it insult the Velthwyn leader,” she said, then turned to Avenor. “Have you been practicing withstanding the effects of Aria’s spell?”
“Yes,” Avenor muttered. His shoulders sagged. “Is there no other way? Can we not create a potion to replace that horrible spell?”
“Only High Father can grant such miraculous potions,” Aria said, frowning as if personally offended.
Tekla’s brows drew together at Aria’s comment, though she stayed silent.
“No, I can’t request such things from our Lord,” Avenor said, glancing aside. “Besides, anything you make, Verde, won’t work on me because of my Hollow Core. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have this skill. I could ask so many things from you…”
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I didn’t doubt him. If Avenor could ask for favors, he absolutely would. Now that things between us had improved, he spoke to me often. Unfortunately, my voice still couldn’t reach him, but that never stopped him from talking to me as if I were sitting right beside him. For him, I was something like a therapist or a diary he could complain to.
And he complained plenty when Aria first used her transformation spell on him. The spell wasn’t an illusion; it reshaped the body, and the process hurt. Aria could dull the pain by tampering with her own mind, but she couldn’t reach Avenor’s at all, not even when he all but begged her to.
“Oh, almost forgot to ask,” Avenor said suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. “Did you really choose the name I suggested? I met Mirion on the way here, and he said the other Vaels liked it too.”
Tekla’s face brightened immediately. She nodded with a grin of her own.
“Yes. Our trib… settlement is now called Eriavel,” she said, stealing a quick glance at Aria to check her reaction.
But she didn’t react at all. Her thoughts had already drifted back to Vaelari and the catalyst he was working on.
“Aria, do you like the new name?” Tekla asked, her voice slipping into the tone of a child waiting for approval from someone they respected.
“Yes,” Aria answered curtly. “Priestess, I also have a question, if I may.”
Tekla nodded for her to continue.
“Is it true that magic is no longer mandatory for women?” Aria asked.
“I bet you think they should be forced into it, because what else would they learn that’s better,” Avenor said with a laugh.
“We decided that neither women nor men should be forced to walk a path they do not desire,” Tekla replied, holding back her own laughter at Avenor’s comment.
“I think no such thing, Avenor,” Aria said, her voice cold. “I wish for no torture for my sisters. It is true I see magic as the most fascinating force in our world, but I have never believed it to be a path for everyone. The work it demands, the pain it brings, the sacrifices it takes…”
She let out a long sigh and turned her gaze to Tekla.
“Thank you, Priestess,” she said. “With High Father watching over our kin and you guiding them, I will be relieved knowing everyone will remain safe and well once we leave on our quest.”
Avenor’s smile faltered. Whatever joke he had tried to make now hung between them as something far less pleasant after Aria’s words.
“I must also thank you, Priestess,” he said, attempting to recover. “This place has changed so much because of you.”
“No, no,” Tekla said quickly, shaking her head. “It is all thanks to our Lord. Praise be to Him.”
All three traced my symbol across their chests with their middle and index fingers.
Avenor and Aria were just about to leave when Lucas rushed into the temple. His steps echoed sharply against the hard floor.
“Priestess, may I speak with you in private?” he asked. The urgency in his voice was enough to make both Avenor and Aria pause. His crimson eyes darted toward them, measuring whether they intended to stay.
“I apologize, I must speak with Lucas,” Tekla said. She had hesitated for only a moment, but she clearly understood that whatever brought him here couldn’t wait.
Avenor and Aria exchanged a glance. Staying now would be disrespectful at best, insulting at worst. They nodded and made for the exit. Their steps were slow, reluctant, and full of curiosity they tried not to show.
“Priestess,” Lucas said as soon as he confirmed they were alone, “the prisoner spoke. He asked for you, claiming he will speak with no one but you.”
Tekla froze. Then her hands moved, ready to rise in prayer, but she stopped herself. She remembered what I had told her moments ago and turned to Lucas instead.
“I will come,” she said, taking a step forward before abruptly turning back toward the altar. Her staff lay across it. She took it with both hands and pressed it to her chest, almost as if asking it to shield her.
Then she followed Lucas out of the temple, both of their expressions tight.
After keeping Eralon in one of the empty houses with several Velmoryns guarding him at all hours, the prison was finally ready and he had been moved there. Since the Velmoryns had no tradition of keeping prisoners, they had no idea what the structure was supposed to look like, and if not for Gundir, they would have built another house without windows and called it a day.
Even with the master blacksmith’s help, there was only so much they could do. Digging an underground prison in such a short time was impossible and a simple wooden structure was vetoed by Gundir, so Tekla had turned to the Divine Oak instead. She asked Orrvyn to shape a prison through its roots. No building could be more secure than one grown by the tree itself, and it obeyed her without hesitation.
The prison was small and stood not far from the temple. Despite everyone’s protests, Tekla had insisted that the most dangerous place in the settlement should be the one closest to her. If anything went wrong, she wanted to be the first to react.
Eralon was held in the central cell, with one empty room on each side. The Velmoryns hadn’t planned for prisoners, so three cells were all Tekla asked Orrvyn to make. With the settlement now in the thousands, I doubted it would be enough for long.
“Open the door,” Lucas told the guard, who looked drained.
“Are you unwell?” Tekla asked, concern crossing her face when she saw the man.
“I’m fine, Priestess,” the guard said, forcing a weak smile. “The prisoner keeps making strange noises at night, and it puts strain on the nerves…”
Tekla touched his shoulder gently and nodded, offering what comfort she could without using my power to ease his exhaustion. She stepped past him into the cell, her expression cooling in an instant, colder than I had ever seen it.
“I’ve come,” she said.
Eralon sat on the floor, his hands and legs tied with steel. His head was bowed, skin covered in scabs and bruises. When he lifted his head, he managed a weak, crooked grin.
“I’ve waited for this day,” he said, his voice rising. “Our Lord, the God of Night and Moons, wishes to issue a warning!”