Page 88 of Daughter of the Serpent

Her voice faltered, and she looked down, as if the admission was too heavy to hold in her chest any longer. “But that was never my fate. From the moment I was born, I belonged to the light. Bound to it. I wasn’t allowed to wield a blade or draw a bow. My life was set in stone - to serve, to remain, forever tethered to the temple. To just be a humble servant, to never want, to never have.”

She turned to him then, her eyes glistening with a sadness that cut deeper than her words. “It was never so simple as wanting freedom. It was knowing I could never have it.”

Axel’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered her words. “But that’s not your fate any longer,” he said, his voice firm. “It appears the gods have listened to your call.”

She laughed again, but this time it was hollow, tinged with bitterness. “The gods have a funny way of answering prayers, don’t they?” Her gaze flicked back to him, uncertain, vulnerable. “But maybe…maybe you were one of them.”

Axel blinked, her words catching him off guard. The hard lines of his face softened for the briefest moment, surprise flickering in his golden eyes. His expression shifted into something unreadable - part curiosity, part something deeper. But he didn’t speak.

“I saw you,” She looked down, “In a vision before we met.”

Axel tilted his head slightly, his curiosity sharpening the lines of his face. “Why haven’t you spoken of this before?”

Her gaze dropped to the earth beneath their feet, her voice soft. “I wasn’t sure what to think of it myself. I thought… I thought I might’ve been imagining things.”

“What did you see?” he asked, his eyes unwavering, their intensity pressing into her.

She inhaled deeply, summoning the memory like a half - remembered dream. “I saw you, but… you were different somehow,” she began. “Your eyes were filled with fire, swirling like wisps of glowing amber. . And when you looked at me…” Her voice faltered, and her gaze returned to his. “It felt like you were looking straight through me. Into me. It felt like you knew me somehow, and I you, even though it’s impossible.”

Axel’s expression didn’t change. He turned his head, his face an impenetrable mask.

“I’m not sure what it meant,” she admitted. “There were so many strange things that happened that night. So many things I still don’t understand.”

“What else?” His voice was quiet but commanding.

Sylvie hesitated, the weight of her confession pressing against her chest. The words clawed their way out. “I… partook in the rite,” she admitted, her tone cautious, as though the very act of speaking the words could summon judgment. “Even though it’s forbidden. I saw things - visions I can’t explain. Symbols, voices, flashes of something I can’t make sense of.” She studied his face, searching for a reaction, but he remained composed.

The memory hit her like a cold wave, stealing her breath. The shadows of that night surged forward in her mind: the flickering images, the haunting whispers, the overwhelming sense of something ancient and vast peering down upon her. Her body shivered involuntarily. She hadn’t fully understood it then, and even now, the meaning eluded her.

“The gods show us many things,” Axel said at last, his voice distant. He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the ocean met the sky. “It’s up to us to decipher their will, no matter how confusing. But things have a way of unfolding as they’re meant to. I believe everyone - no matter how small or seemingly insignificant - has a part to play.”

She frowned, her frustration spilling into her words. “But why would they show me you? What part is it they wish you to play in all of this?”

Axel’s lips curled faintly, a shadow of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It appears I’m already playing it,” he murmured, hisvoice barely above a whisper. His gaze shifted back to her, steady and unwavering. “The only mystery left… is what part will be yours.”

The question hung in the air between them, unanswered. Sylvie’s heart thudded heavily in her chest, her thoughts a tangle of uncertainty and wonder as she gazed into Axel’s eyes. Somewhere in the distance, the waves crashed again, their song a haunting lullaby. And as the breeze swirled around them, it seemed to whisper the truth Sylvie couldn’t yet bring herself to say: whatever part the gods planned for her seemed to have only just begun.

Chapter Fifteen

That night, Sylvie's slumber was invaded by visions of eyes ablaze with flame. She could feel a certain pull, her soul rising from her body, her heart breaking open. Yet as the haunting call of the blow horn pierced the morning air, the details of her dream dissipated, leaving behind a lingering sense of foreboding.

Not now.

Not yet.

After donning her garments, Sylvie found Godvik awaiting her at the door of her chamber. His face looked grim, and yet she could tell he was trying to maintain a hopeful disposition.

"It's time," he announced, his voice heavy with significance. "Are you prepared?"

Sylvie nodded solemnly before following him out, her mind swirling with uncertainty. Each step through the familiar corridors of the temple felt weighted with the gravity of the impending trials.

Would this be one of her final journeys along these hallowed paths?

How many more mornings would she be granted before her fate was sealed?

They slipped through the temple gates, stepping into the village square where the air buzzed with anticipation. Sylvie’s pulse quickened as the scene unfolded before her. The crowd thickened - students, elders, and townsfolk alike pressed shoulder to shoulder, their murmurs rumbling like distant thunder. At the head of the gathering stood the Jarl and his sons, their faces stern beneath the early morning sun, and beside them, Rederick. The high priest’s robes fell in rich, blood - red waves, his dark beard flowing like a river of midnight, and a golden circlet, heavy and carved with runes, rested on his brow. Sylvie's gaze flicked between the figures at the forefront, her mind swirling with unease. She had always questioned who truly wielded power in this land - the Jarl, with his title and the weight of government, or the temple, with its shadowy influence. From where she stood, the temple’s grip seemed far stronger, its reach far deeper.

Rederick was the one whose presence sent chills down spines, whose whispers carried the weight of secrets. And it was not the Jarl who addressed the people now. Sylvie's doubts clawed at her as she watched the way the crowd deferred to him, the way even the Jarl's gaze lingered too long in search of Rederick’s approval.