Elona was overcome with mixed emotions as the senior healers approached her, informing her that she had the potential to become the next grand healer of the Spire if she passed her trial. They even mentioned that Morrina, the Grand Healer Enchanter herself, would personally train her. Though her healing abilities surpassed those of many of her peers, she found it hard to believe that she was the best candidate for the coveted position of Grand Healing Enchanter. She knew that if they found out about her use of forbidden blood magic to save Knight Harris, her chances would be slim to none. But in a twisted way, she convinced herself that her willingness to take risks was exactly what the Divinity needed. The thought of serving them with grace made her feel ill. As an elf, the concept of time was vastly different than for humans. Her lifespan would surpass most, living for perhaps two-hundred years or even more. The thought of being trapped in the Spire for the rest of her days, only twenty years old and knowing that she would spend the majority of her life in servitude was a cruel punishment for her race. The memories of her elf-hood were becoming increasingly distant, and she felt as trapped and oppressed as the other mages did.
The healers assigned Elona to work with the devout sisters, tasking her with cleaning one of the Spire's worship rooms. It was the first time she had been allowed to stay in the lower ward, closer to the main hall. Though she was unsure of the purpose behind this assignment, she suspected it was a political move to gain the trust of the devout in order to become a respected healer Enchanter. The devout sisters barely acknowledged her presence, and Elona could sense their unease and fear of her through their hushed whispers. Despite their lack of interaction, Elona was not offended. Instead, she found it amusing. The elven race possessed superior hearing, and she enjoyed overhearing their secret conversations. The worship room was simple, with a large statue of one of the holy women, servants of the Creator. Though Elona was not well-versed in the mythology of these figures, she couldn't help but be drawn to the statue's downcast expression. She had carved traces of sorrow into her eyes.
A door behind her opened, and she whipped back to see if it was one of the healing Enchanters coming to fetch her, but to her surprise, it was the Knight Harris she had saved. His eyes met hers, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the statue in front of her. The other devout sisters greeted Harris warmly as they lit the candles around the room. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows behind the statue cast a celestial glow on the holy woman, making it appear as if she had descended from the heavens. Elona couldn't bring herself to look at Harris, unsure of why she felt so nervous. He dismissed the devout sisters, leaving Elona alone with him in the now-lit worship room. He didn't approach her, instead walking to the corner of the room and observing the candles and incense. Elona remained frozen, pretending to be engrossed in the statue, as Harris continued to observe her from a distance.
"That is Amria." "One of the holy who serves the Creator"
Elona broke from her icy fear to meet Harris's stare, and he finally came closer, peering at the statue as she was.
"She was a woman of the water. Lady of the Lake."
"Why did they carve in such sorrow?" Elona whispered a reply.
Harris stressed his brow, looking up once again.
"It is interesting. "I never noticed before."
"If I may inquire, how is your recovery coming along?"Her gentle voice was deceiving, for she was still trembling in fear.
Harris smiled slightly, taking in the light that was hitting Elona's fair skin.
"I am doing better thanks to you... "I wanted to come directly to thank you for saving my life, but I was hesitant to do so."
She nodded, not prying any further into his uneasiness.
"The sensation of power that lingered after the spell was cast was undeniable."
She wasn't sure if he was referring to the curse that had been placed on him or the magic of her healing, but deep down, she wished he hadn't brought it up, as it left her with a multitude of unanswered questions.
"The statue reminds me of a tale: of an elven woman who falls in love with evil."
"I think I have heard of such a tale from a bard by Low River"
The ease of his voice confused her. This feeling she harbored was neither comfort nor fear anymore.
"Elves tend to look for goodness. light beyond all sorrow. We scratch and claw for that divinity, yet we cannot find it. unending, unyielding to its pull, yet far from us. It blinds us and makes us suffer. To think we are light itself, good even. It's the difference between the sharp end of a dagger."
In many ways, Elona thought the Divinity was similar to the elves. Both were constantly struggling with the balance of good and evil, never truly examining which side they were on. But these thoughts were not meant to be spoken aloud. They were meant to be kept hidden, where no one, not even a servant of the Divinity, could punish her for them.
"I have never met anyone who radiated such earnestness as you, my lady," Harris said.
Elona was taken aback by the address. In her lifetime, she had never been referred to as "my lady." She didn't respond, instead feeling a different sort of fear.
"Do elves have faith?" Harris asked.
"We have many gods, their names elude me it seems. It's been a long time since I've thought of them," Elona replied.
"I see," Harris said in a soft tone. "You fear me, my lady?"
Harris nodded solemnly as Elona's face revealed her terror.
"When you healed me, I felt like a great divine light was shining upon me. Your service was rendered with the purest form of magic. I'll be eternally appreciative to you for that. What do people call you, if I may ask? I'm hoping this helps you feel safer around me."
"Elona," she whispered.
Harris whispered her name back to himself as the devout sisters returned to the room. He took his leave, leaving Elona with a final word from the Divinity. "May the Creator guide you, Elona." But Elona knew that the Creator could not guide or protect her from the eyes of the so-called holy, for Harris's heart was full of desire.
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The sun was high up in the sky, casting its warmth upon Terrance as he stood outside, watching as the winter's ice melted away at a sluggish pace, making the weather bearable once again. He stood on the bridge, taking in the natural beauty all around him, the lush forest stretching far into the distance, and the town of Low River, with its fire pits spewing smoke into the air. He turned to look at the Obsidian Mountains that towered over the vast expanse beyond. The air was soft and relaxing, and he could hear birds chirping as they flew back to their old homes, a sign that spring was coming.
Despite the peace and serenity around him, Terrance knew that he had to go back within the walls and prepare for the days to come. He had been informed that he would be supervising some mages who were preparing for their trial. He dreaded being confined to the gloomy atmosphere of the spire; he longed for the outdoors and prayed to the Creator that spring would come into full effect soon. As he stood there, taking in the sights and sounds around him, he wished he could spend more time outside, savoring every moment of the fresh air and the stunning view of nature.
He was called to meet with Captain Harth. She was in her own office, sitting writing something with her quill. He knocked and she called him in. He had to mentally prepare himself to speak with her, afraid to sound like a fool to his captain.
"Sit Terrance"
A knot formed in Terrance's gut as he entered Captain Harth's office. It troubled him that she might have found out about his covert connection with Cassandra. As she gestured for him to sit, his anxiety increased, and he braced himself for the worst. He was relieved to see that Harth made no moves to discipline him.
Harth exhaled as she sat back in her chair "many Trials are planned for the coming spring. To put it mildly, things have been extremely busy". Terrance nodded his head, not quite grasping her meaning.
Harth said, "During this time, you will be in charge of a trial with Harris," which made Terrance nervous.He was stumbling through an answer when Harth interrupted him.
Terrance's hands began to fumble nervously, and his courage drained as the weight of his citation sunk in. He knew there was no turning back now.
"I haven't killed anyone before, Captain," he managed to say.
Harth narrowed her eyes, her fatigue evident from the bags under her eyes. She had been managing new knights under the command of Richmond, who insisted that the newcomers oversee their ward's trials. She wanted to fight him on it, but she knew that her commander's temper had worsened over the years. As his lackey, she had to deal with the downsides of his decisions.
"I remember my first trial. I was unlucky to have a mage lose control, being unworthy of their magic. So I did what I was told and I killed her then and there was no thought, no hesitation. It was only later when the adrenaline dissipated that I realized what I had done. I killed a mage that I had known for a whole year, she was a good woman, fair. Kind. responsible. And I killed her without a thought"
Terrance's guard was down; he could see that if Harth were not as faithful, not as true to her honor, she would have never stayed here at Klestor.
"It is important, Terrance, that we not get too close to the mage, not because they are bad. But because of our duty, it is the only way we do not sink in despair. I am not saying you will have to kill a mage on this coming trail. Many succeed even."
"But you want me to be prepared if I do?"
Terrance had no trembling, no doubt that was erased by the horror; even if skilled, he had not thought he would be so soon taking that responsibility for someone's life.
"I see much of myself in you, Terrance. I know you will do good."
Terrance nodded, dreading the days to come, remembering the fire that Cassandra lit within his soul. Kindred they were in a way of knowing. Perhaps it was the creator who put them on this path now. Not as a test but as fate. Not love, not hate. Just fate to understand this wide world. It was romantic to think that all of that had meaning now. When it could very well be Cassandra that he will have to take from life.
"I will do my best, Captain."
"I know, sir Terrance." She continued to write, and he stood up, ready to leave, until she remembered something she had not told him.
One more thing: you'll be overseeing a Mage as she gets ready for a trial. For a few hours during the day. Her name is Cassandra from your ward."
Terrance's heart skipped a beat as he shot a glance back at Harth, who was engrossed in her writing and paid little attention to his sudden surprise. He had thought that perhaps she knew about his problematic feelings for Cassandra, and that was why she had warned him to be careful around mages. He couldn't deny that he was happy to be around the lady mage and was attracted to her, but it wasn't just physical attraction that drew him to her. There was a question hidden behind closed doors that he couldn't ignore. However, he knew that his feelings for her could never come to the surface, as it was not appropriate, allowed, or fair for a knight to care for a mage he was supposed to be keeping safe. Terrance abhorred the stories of knights dishonoring themselves, abusing mages, and using their power to justify it. He saw Cassandra as a human being who had not felt the warmth of the summer sun on her skin for years, and the last thing she needed was companionship from a servant of the divine order.
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Terrance would spend the rest of his day spring cleaning the courtyard with some other Knights which included Harris finally back in action after his accident. Terrace had barely spoken to him since then and did not know what he would say. He did notice a quietness about Harris that wasn't there before, knots of worry were formed by his silences. Luckly he was distracted by the piles of hay, horse waste, and damaged practice straw dummies to get too much in his head. To his surprise Krell was also there not doing much. Looking down at all the younger knights doing all the filthy work. The snow that had melted onto the ground made the courtyard a muddy wasteland. Often getting Terrance shoes stuck in the thick slushy mud Terrance had noticed if Harris wasn't talking to him all the other followed suit, then again Harris wasn't talking to anyone. But it was interesting to know how much of an extra limb he was. No other knight was truly interested in him enough to spare a conversion. And why would they? He wasn't that remarkable by any means. And his somber attitude left people uncomfortable. A awakerness he couldn't quite shake. It was when he was shoveling horse stalls within the court yard when he noticed Krell behind him eating an apple and feeding the rest a horse Terrance glanced at him wondering what his intent was.
"I heard you will be looking for a trial. I remember doing that pointless shit some years ago."
"Word goes around." Terrance retruded then countied "You don't do them anymore?"
Krell did not respond and kept ingoing with the horse. Then he turned to Terrace and unsheathed his sword resting it beside him
"We will fight now. Not this child shit that the others do and real fight"
Terrance eyes winded and let out a confused chuckle
"You want me to fight you... with what weapon?"
"You have a all you need in your hands blondie"
Terrance looked down at his shovel. He wasn't wearing his armor since he was doing clean up for the upcoming warm weather approaching Eastern Isli-dor.
Terrance had no way to reject this within himself. When a fight was presented, it was almost like he had not fought in himself to walk away from it. He wondered if it was a bad thing to want to be a danger physically. He ran often from social interactions, scoldings, and flirtation. But a fight was different; there was nothing deeper, nothing unsaid; it was just something to survive from, and that danger gave him comfort; he wasn't without thought, though. And going against Krell seemed like a fight he could not win, but yet he braised himself in a falsely proud stance and positioned himself with his less than deadly weapon against the strangest man he had come to know.
"So when do we...?
Terrance was cut off by Krell's sudden attack, but thankfully his reflexes saved his fall. He shoved himself back with the body of the shovel. Their feet started to move. The wooden beams of the stables were affected by Terrance constantly dodging something he wasn't aware he was so adept at, crashing into the beams hiding behind them to take the blow of Krell's weapon. Krell showed no emotion in his face, just a bored focus. Waiting for Terrance to actually strike first annoyed me at how he just backed away inch by inch. Krell used the opportunity of Terrance's blind spot as he hid between the beams to kick his feet, which made Terrance stumble. Krell followed that with a push onto his stomach. Terrance almost fell on his back but found his balance while Krell swung his sword over his head. It was hard to tell if Krell fully intended to hurt him or not, for his skills with the blade were controlled but fierce. The young knight assumed that Krell would not hesitate to leave Terrance in a sorry state, despite the discipline he would face for injuring a fellow knight. After all, Krell never wore the sigil with any honor or convocation; he was as much a knight as a wolf was gentle.
"Why don't you strike, boy?"
Krell questioned him now; his expression was first annoyed, then bored.
Terrace was already out of breath from all the near-death exercises he had to perform to shock his head. Not saying a word. It was then that they finally found themselves through their movement in the courtyard. The other knights were dumbfounded by the sudden duel between Krell and Terrance. But none stepped in.
Krell and Terrance were going in circles. Krell waited for a strike, and Terrance waited for his death. Finally, Krell's patience wore thin, and he struck again, and this time it all came together. Back and forth, they lunged and attacked. Terrance could not do much with his shovel, but he did manage to almost hit Krell with the sharp part of the shovel before Krell intervened. The other knights around them were completely invested, cheering on the fight like it was a tournament. Even Harris watched the fight, finally seeing some color on his face, his eyes wide and amused. For Terrance, this was no laughing matter; at this point, the young knight fully believed Krell wanted to kill him. Krell was a man of cunning and roguish brutality. When Terrance was caught off guard by the effects of his execution, he trembled back, and Krell used this time to punch him in the gut, leaving him breathless with the sensation of deep, piercing pain shooting through his body. Terrance took Krell's sigil pin he was wearing on his clock, leaving the cloak to fall off, and stabbed him in the hand. Krell swore but barely showed it; his eyes had a glint of joy now. It was too late, though Krell had dominated the whole dual since the beginning. Krell took his shovel and threw it far. Terrance was kneeling in pain and in utter surprise at the kind of violence he was feeling within himself. Bloodied lips and sweat dripped through his now muddied clothes. Terrance stood before him. The other knights laughed slightly at each other until Krell looked at them.
"Who's next?"
Everyone stayed quiet.
"Thought not," he said to himself and reached his arm out to Terrance, who was still on the ground. Terrance was shocked at first, remembering how Harri tricked him last time, but he knew that Krell had no reason to continue this fight. He took his hand, and Krell propped him up.
"You see those knights, Blondie?" "You see how they look at me."
Terrance barely looked at them, feeling an odd tingle of fear overwhelming him.
"That is how they look at you as well; I know this. We are not the same. But we are similar in their eyes. They think we do not belong, and they hate us."
Terrance released from his grip, and seeing the people around him fully get back to their work, it was odd; it was almost like his eyes were clearer at that very moment. Krell looked unbothered; he didn't even look winded by their
"And we don't believe Sir Terrance to be just."
Krell looked up for a moment, noticing Captain Harth watching them this whole time. Her disapproving face reflected the fact she could have stopped his fight this instant. Her disapproving face reflected the fact she could have stopped his fight this time, but she did not. Terrance would always wonder why he wasn't scolded for that day.
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Cassandra was once told by Elina that she learned best by doing. She knew she meant with boundaries in place, not just throwing them around like pebbles in a river. Elina was not a high enchanter but a low one, and seemed to be most content with herself in the spire; that being said, a mage's soul longs for the touch of mother nature, and perhaps within herself she wanted more. Cassandra at times dreams about Elina and then scolds herself for doing so when she wakes, for then she cannot make herself go back to sleep for fear she will see that old lady again only by memory, which sure will fade over time. How can a mage know their magic by just studying? They can manifest their abilities under the strict control of higher enchanters, but as soon as a mage might want to practise without supervision, its a knife that digs deep into the divinity's eyes. So Cassandra obeyed the pointlessness of meditations and studied without using her will.
When she was set to study by her lonesome, the itching feeling of time loomed over her. She wondered how Ester was fairing with Echnater Eldaran. If she was ready and if she was stable. The thought of her making her peace with death gave Cassandra fear and vigour; she knew her friend would pass her by. It was not a hope but an absolute. It was dreadful being awakened earlier than most to go for her studies before the sun had even fully shown its light, and she was escorted to the library by none other than Terrance. who, by no surprise, was also her supervisor. At the very least, she could feel a sense of ease around him, though it would be hard not to get sidetracked by him. When they were walking to the library, Terrance did not say much to her. She had noticed fresh bruises around his neck and lips. She was itching to ask him and why but did not tempt it. Even if most of the spire was still asleep, the ears of the divinity still shadowed them. Once they arrived at the library, Cassandra saw a pile of books on a table, most likely organized by Eldaran himself for her to study. She had to chuckle, knowing he probably gave her way more than necessary.
It was a familiar feeling being there with the odd knight, who first showed his strange behavior to her, but this time he was in his uniform instead of his casual wear. Once again, he was dressed in blue and gold that was both tight and unfitting. She wondered what color would suit him best. perhaps black to contrast his fair complexion. Maybe an armor of pure white, but then again, he would look like a religious crusader. No, it was when he was just Terrence and not Sir Terrence that he looked more comfortable, and she pitied him for that.
Cassandra decided not to say anything but to actually read, so she would not disappoint Ester or Elona. Though her attention span was never the most reliable, she tried her damnedest to at least take in some knowledge she missed due to her lack of interest. It was half an hour in before she couldn't stand it anymore. Terrance just stood there in the corner like he did during lesson hours. She closed her book and sighed.
"Would you like to sit, Sir Knight?"
Terrance had the proud and knightly demeanor she had seen before when he introduced himself for the first time. Finally collapsing, he looked into her eyes, gentle and weary.
"I shouldn't; I would be in your way."
"And less able to react when I attack, yes?"
Terrance was taken back by this and slowly made his way to a chair by another table. Cassandra had a victorious smile on her, which the Knight could not be mad about by any means.
"What happened to your face?" she asked gently.
"I had a run-in with a severe creature that told me we were the same."
"How fantastic. What was the creature's name?"
"Sir Krell"
"He won, I reckon."
Terrance nodded, not ashamed of his loss; he knew he would have never won against him even if he bore a real weapon. His experience and skill far surpassed his own, and he was at peace with that.
"Not my first loss, and surely not my last."
"What about that scare on your neck?"
Terrance became still and avoidant; it was a sour spot that Cassandra did not want to linger on. She wanted to change the topic or even stop the conversion all together, but Terrance snapped himself out of his trance and touched his neck. It was a memory now. Scars from his past. Deep in his skin, there were wounds on his body that no one could see. Leaving memory in its blood only to be discovered upon death. Like his neck, he had deep and unhealing scars on his face. It seemed that the creator did not want to hide them from the world like he did his heart.
"My uncle"
Cassandra's brow furrowed, not knowing how to read his expression.
"The Divinian Knight?"
"He trained me. He had no problem punishing me if I did not succeed. He was cruel when he taught his lessons, but even so, I hid the wounds or blamed it on something else when my mother asked, and I do not know why.
"Seemed like a very kind man," she said. Sarcasm was natural to her like shame was to Terrance, but he was not offended and even smiled at her remark.
"Some magic can get rid of scars like that. Healers do it all the time for the noble who wants to preserve their beauty."
Terrance moved her chair closer to Cassandra, who surprised her slightly. He rested onto the chair, pondering a question that had been on his mind for a long time.
"Is there magic to heal one's mind?"
The earnestness of Terrance's question kept Cassandra in a state of conflict; she wished she could give him a better answer. But in truth, she was barely a reliable mage to ask such things.
"I do not know. I never heard of one."
Terrance's eyes narrowed downward, disappointed but not surprised. They had said to him that the Creator of Light would heal all hurts, even those in the heart and soul. But his pain was a deep cut in his mind. A sickness deep within. He wondered if he was simply born the way he was or if he was made this way. It could not be known.
"I am sorry; I must make you uncomfortable. I can be solemn at times, even when I was young."
"I would be bloody offended if you were happy to be in the Spire, mind you."
Terrance felt a rush of warmth fill him, and he smiled more than he had ever done. If he could hold on to that feeling forever, he could, even if he knew it was not in his nature to do so. Cassandra also let out a cheeky laugh. She laughed at her own jokes, which grounded most people in such a harsh environment, and her laugh was contagious. He was much too self-conscious to give into that, though.
"You do have some nerve about you, Cassandra."
"You know it's my downfall, so is studying."
"I was always good at studying when I was younger," he returned.
"Of course you were."
She smiled in jest. It seemed she loved to fluster him like a fool, which was easy to do.
"It's not for everyone. I guess the only way to really learn is to do."
A sting in her heart hearing the words of another come from his mouth displaced her into a more vulnerable state she did not show.
"You can cast a spell if you like; would it help you?"
The lady mage huffed, shaking her head.
Here? While the Divinity is breathing down my neck? If they catch me, I would be killed, and you would be slapped on the wrist. And I wouldn't want your wrist to hurt, do I?"
"You're right, that was careless of me."
Cassandra leaned closer on the table, towering over him, and whispered
"I shall cast in that little hidden room next time if it pleases you."
Terrance nodded in approval. Lingering his eyes on her long eyelashes And fierce eyes. He reminded himself that any feelings of attraction for her would be crueller to her than to himself, and he restrained his thoughts, insecure never to be spoken or felt except in his solitude. It was secondary to him anyway. The rest of the morning before her time was up went smoothly; they talked some more about anything. There was so much to learn about one another and how life operates around them. It was only when she was reminded to study that she continued to read in silence for the last hour before they stopped and he walked himself back to his spot. She told her it was alright and that he could continue sitting, but he felt as if he was distracting her if he lingered too close, so he did not mind waiting.