Chaos and uncertainty remain in the aftermath of the Balisekt War. With the Lands of Order in such a fragile state, the tribal races turn to Tranquility, their holy land, for guidance and stability. However, war has left the Temple more shaken than...
Enjoying the story so far? Please contribute to the author's Patreon. patreon.com/expressivemedia
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I feel I'll never be able to enter the Temple and not feel overwhelmed by it. The sheer grandeur of such a structure is beyond belief. Still, in the quiet corners of my mind, I wonder if the Lady would truly be proud of such a monument. For when I step within the walls, I feel I am surrounded by the boastings of mortal accomplishments, not the simple elegance of the wilderness created by She whom we worship."
Lilly, faerie acolyte: private journal
It was an absolutely beautiful night in Tranquility. There were no clouds, letting the innumerable stars above shine brightly against the black of the sky. The forest was still, amplifying the otherwise quiet sloshing of the water against the lakeshore. Fireflies twinkled in the darkness between the trees and the air smelled as though it had just rained. It was a perfect night for sitting by the lake and contemplating the amazing splendor of all the Lady had created. But no one was out. No one was wandering the trees at such a late hour. All of Tranquility was in their homes, in their beds. And the seryans were no different.
No two classes of the Temple lived together. The acolytes lived in their village to the east along with their students. A separate settlement for the priests and priestesses was erected deep in the Wilds to the west. The homes of the seryans were built along the lakeshore southwest of the small bay where the Temple sat. With only five structures to build, they were spaced far apart to give each seryan her privacy. Such solitude was a rare thing for anyone in the Lands of Order, but the seryans did not live as any commoners would. On most nights, it made a quiet refuge where sleep came easy.
For Ladybug, this was not like most nights.
The faerie seryan's home was built in the low branches of an elm tree at the edge of the water. Though only usable by a faerie, it was accessible by any creature. It ensured the Grand Seryan could call upon her when needed, even at the most peculiar of times. Ladybug was aroused from her slumber by a rumbling beneath her bed and a series of loud pounds. She rose quickly and fluttered to her door. Flinging the door open, she found a young elf soldier standing at the base of the tree. His fist was pounding against the trunk of the elm as one would knock on a door.
"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded. She knew her hair was a wild mess and her attire was not suitable for being seen by anyone.
"Apologies, your Grace, but the Grand Seryan summons you to the Temple."
"It's the middle of the night!" she snapped. "The Grand Seryan is likely sound asleep!"
"I assure you, your Grace, she is not," he replied. "You are to come immediately."
Ladybug was truly baffled. To be summoned like this was a common thing in her position, but never had she been called at such a strange hour. Ever since the Balisekt War ended, Silvermist's behavior and decisions became increasingly perplexing. She didn't want to question her leader's actions or intentions—her discipline insisted she not—but instinct told her that something was wrong. Either way, a call from the Grand Seryan could not be ignored, even if it came late at night.
