Page 5

Chapter 5

Desperate Times

Y ellow stained-glass ceilings covered the temple’s dining room in a warm glow, casting long shadows on the looping vines draped along the sandstone walls. The long oak table was simple in its natural cut, decorated with white candles in intricate gold casings and all sorts of fruits and vegetation from the temple’s vast gardens. Greenery weaved in and out of the display, flowers still blooming as Sylzenya’s fingers curled tight around the stem of her wine glass. It was made of the same crystal as the temple’s stained glass, causing the red wine to appear black as she gently swirled it.

“Something amiss with the wine, Sylzenya?” the High One asked as his yellow gaze drifted to her glass.

His voice echoed in the vast hall. He’d requested her presence alone before the banquet began, and if she knew anything, it was to wait for him to explain why when he deemed it right.

Sylzenya feigned a smile. Ever since she woke a few hours earlier, the vision hadn’t ceased playing in her mind. Aretta’s healing willow. A compass with a piece of its bark. The bird with white and gray feathers. A gold ring turning to blood, filling an orodyte.

The knowledge had come with a price, a price she didn’t understand.

She picked up her glass. “This is an event for the newly ordained Kreenas.”

The High One smiled. “That’s why you must drink.”

“Your Grace,” she replied, keeping her voice steady, “I’m not a Kreena.”

He gripped her hand. “You will be.”

Tears welled behind her eyes. The greenery on the table didn’t respond to her fingertips brushing against its soft leaves. The faint sound of her goddess’ heartbeat had faded after the vision, and she hadn’t heard it since. Life around her felt cold and silent. And despite the vision, she still didn’t know where to find the compass. If it truly resided in a willow, it could take months to find it. Years, even. But more importantly, she didn’t know if the vision was even true.

“It’s orodyte serum,” Sylzenya said, “There’s no cure, no herbs, no way of getting back my connection with Aretta.”

“Sylzenya, you must trust me,” the High One pressed, squeezing her hand, “I’ve invited you here because I’m going to announce to all the Kreenas and guests there’s nothing to fear.”

Her eyes widened. “Is the famine no longer a threat?”

He furrowed his brow, “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. But only you and I will know this.”

“What do you mean?”

The High One straightened, his posture mirroring his long nose. “I’m currently working on a cure for the orodyte serum, and the results are more than promising. Because of this, I’m going to announce tonight that you’re on the mend.”

The bird’s voice echoed through her mind. If you are to restore your power and protect your people, then Aretta’s Willow is the only way.

“I thought—” Sylzenya paused, her fingers stiffening. “I didn’t know it could be extracted.”

“Desperate times have called for creative measures,” the High One replied, “You are Estea’s greatest of Kreenas, and your parents stole this from you. Your title, your power, your provisions for our people—we can’t let their failed attempt to ruin this kingdom come to fruition. Nor can we let them take away what’s rightfully yours.”

The wine swirling in her glass steadied, potent and thick. Ever since she woke, she had refused to think about her parents, and she didn’t plan on discussing them now.

“It’s going to take some time to make sure this cure is ready for you,” the High One continued, “But we mustn’t create any need for panic, so you’re going to follow my lead. Do you understand?”

His cold hand gripped hers tighter, her heart battering against her chest.

Be wary of who you trust , the bird had warned.

“Even though your power is absent in this moment, you can still offer hope to our people. What happened at the Kreena Rite yesterday can be smoothed over. Assure them that you’re on the mend. Let them know Aretta is with us.”

She finally looked into his yellow eyes.

Be wary . But, this was the person who treated her like a daughter all these years. He offered her hope; encouraged her to find purpose; helped her find her way when her parents left her at the temple’s steps. Even now, when her mother and father ripped her life away a second time, he invited her to the Kreena’s table and offered her food and drink.

He offered her a cure .

The search for Aretta’s willow was pointless. Even if she found the compass, the tree moved on its own accord. Who’s to say it wouldn’t attempt to evade her pursuit? Her people needed to outlive the famine, which meant she needed her power back as soon as possible.

Time would never be on their side.

“I’ll do whatever I can to provide our people with hope,” she replied.

His face relaxed, a smile pulling at his mouth. “Estea will survive this famine, and it will be because of you, Sylzenya Phatris,” he lifted his wine glass. “To hope.”

Sylzenya raised hers as well. “Hope,” she whispered.

A soft clink followed by a sip. The wine stung her throat, its potency filling her nostrils and mouth. As she drank deeply, the bird’s dark blue eyes flashed before her, its chilled voice echoing through her mind.

Your choice has been made.

She took another deep sip, ignoring the voice and the way her body tensed under its undeniable pull in her chest.

And so your consequence is set…

She drank more, more, more.

In blood and stone.

As she slammed her empty glass onto the oak table, the doors opened, and the banquet began.

“Welcome,” the High One announced as he stood, splaying his hands wide. His long white robes etched with gold designs spilled like a waterfall to the marble tiles.

Sylzenya took a long gulp of wine. Kreenas and the guests silenced themselves, some of their faces stained pink while others a subtle red, the wine having already taken them into a state of blessed delirium.

“Tonight we celebrate the success of all the years you have spent learning and providing for Estea. Our kingdom would be nothing without the power Aretta bestows on Kreenas.”

Everyone shouted in agreement.

Sylzenya took up a new glass of wine and drank.

“As you all know,” the High One continued, “The famine continues to spread across the continent of Druenia. Estea has been able to withstand its ravenous reach all these years; we remain blessed by our goddess.” He paused, turning to Sylzenya. “There were eleven failures at yesterday’s Kreena Rite, one of which, I’m happy to announce, failed due to a mistake that is already on the mend.”

Whispers echoed in the large room.

Nyla kicked Sylzenya’s leg under the table. Sylzenya widened her eyes in warning, but her friend didn’t hide the shock in her features.

“Thanks to the work of our people, there’s now a cure for orodyte serum,” the High One announced. “Sylzenya Phatris will be back with us soon. Praise be to Aretta!”

Everyone echoed the prayer, clanking their cups in celebration. Kreenas turned to her, eyes wide and smiles even bigger as they asked question after question as to why and how. But the High One ceased everyone’s chatter, outstretching his arm to Sylzenya—requesting her to speak.

Clearing her throat, Sylzenya stood, hands sweating and heart pounding as she raised her wine glass.

“Let it be known that Aretta has gifted us her favor from the very beginning,” Sylzenya said, the expectant eyes of her fellow women urging her to continue, “She has blessed the High One with knowledge to restore the power stolen from me; I can already feel her power sing to me from the earth.”

Small shouts of excitement and praise bounced through the air. Sylzenya refrained from gritting her teeth; she hadn’t lied this blatantly before. Gathering herself, she forced her smile to her lips like she always did.

“But until my return, Estea has each one of you to look towards for strength. I believe you will do our people justice with the crops and waters you choose to create.” She paused. “I will be back with you soon, and we won’t let this famine touch Estea—not now, not ever.”

Everyone raised their glass.

“ Praise be to Aretta! ”

Boisterous laughter filled the hall as Sylzenya returned to her seat, face hot and legs shaking. Nyla clanked her glass with Sylzenya’s, giving her a nod and a smile.

The High One stood. “The kingdom-wide banquet isn’t for another two harvest cycles. However, I’ve decided now is a perfect time to celebrate all your hard work. We will have it tomorrow night instead so we might bolster hope in our kingdom’s faith. You will each work diligently in tomorrow’s gardens to ensure there’s enough food for every citizen of Estea for the event. Is that understood, Kreenas of Aretta’s temple?”

The women responded with a resounding, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. Now, continue to eat and drink to your heart’s content. Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow we work.”

Laughter and excitement took over the dining hall once again as the women obeyed the High One, returning to their plates full of steamed squash, bright greens, and dripping fruits.

“Sylzenya,” he whispered, leaning close, “I must ask a rather important task of you.”

Sylzenya straightened. The lie of her power returning made her stomach sick, so she drank another deep gulp of wine.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“The King of Vutror, Tosh Rogdul, will be arriving any day to discuss the trade treaty between our kingdoms. While we will supply him with armed escorts, I would like for you to accompany him whenever he requests access to the temple.”

Sylzenya couldn’t help but notice Nyla’s amber gaze sharpening on her. The High One was quiet, but not enough for her friend’s notoriously good ear.

“You would like me to acquaint him with our culture?” Sylzenya asked.

“Yes,” the High One replied slowly, “and I would like for you to watch him closely.”

Sylzenya narrowed her gaze. “Is there a particular reason he is in need of watching?”

“I will be rather busy these next few days, and I need someone I can trust to observe and relay any suspicions to me.” He leaned in even closer, the sharpness of his yellow eyes piercing hers, “Outlanders can be… unpredictable. Their motives not always as clear as they present.”

“I see,” Sylzenya said, “This is quite the task, Your Grace.”

“Indeed.” He smiled. “I would not trust anyone else with it.”

Heart pounding, she nodded. “I will do as you say.”

“Very good.”

The High One left his seat and made his way to the end of the table, conversing with other Kreenas.

“ I would not trust anyone else, my most powerful Kreena ,” Nyla mocked in a low voice.

Sylzenya kicked her shin under the table. Nyla’s yelp turned into a laugh.

“So while we work under the burning sun, you get to prance around with a king?” Nyla asked. “How unfair.”

“Can you ever learn to mind your own business?” Sylzenya asked as she leaned forward, “Or better yet, can you ever just let me be?”

She smiled. “Where’s the fun in that? Now, drink up. I don’t want to be able to remember a single word I’ve said by tomorrow morning.”

Sylzenya grinned, finishing her third cup. Everyone drank well into the night, the final wine bottle emptied, their white robes stained crimson.

Despite the High One’s confidence, Sylzenya had difficulty ignoring the direction given to her in the vision. The bird had given her a path and spoken of a price. What could be more torturous than her current state of powerlessness?

The search for the compass was wishful thinking anyways.

Absurd.

Aretta’s Willow had either been lost for centuries or was a simple myth. Searching for it would only be a distraction, and her people had survived this long without it. She had a cure on the way and a new task.

All she needed to do was focus on the Vutrorian King and his whereabouts. She’d keep a careful eye on him whenever he chose to see the temple, would report all his comings and goings, and anything he said or chose not to say.

Sylzenya’s task was to protect her kingdom, and she would not fail again.