Marie was not happy with what occurred during her absence and glared at the medallion as she held it in front of her eyes, her gaze radiating with a golden glow as she studied it carefully. Aren was told to stay quiet and sit, so he took the time to note down the results of his experiments up to now. Still, he was pleased that his original idea for the formation worked so well.

  “As far as I can tell, it is passive magic,” the exemplar said, ending the silence she had enforced, and placed the necklace on the table as the glow in her eyes faded. The atmosphere in the room eased at her proclamation.

  “I told you,” Aren said, putting his notes down.

  “It’s my duty to ensure nothing untoward happens to the Luminous One.” She looked at Donnavan. “You should have waited for me to investigate this before allowing the Luminous One to wear it. I have never heard of such potent passive enhancement with this kind of effect.”

  “I have failed you, Honored Exemplar,” Donnavan said, kneeling down since the exemplar first berated him when she learned of the item.

  “And your band did not activate when you made this?” She returned her gaze to Aren.

  “You already confirmed this three times with the others, when you didn’t believe me the first time,” Aren stated. “I have temporarily skirted the mana detection of the band, but it would still activate if I did actual magic.”

  “Don’t do that again,” she said sternly. “The bands are the will of the Prophet-King.”

  “I won’t,” Aren said. “I’m stuck for now. I don’t have a reliable way to block the intent detection. A simple mind shield won’t suffice. I’m not willing to brainwash myself, since a change this drastic would likely cripple my magic entirely.”

  “Just know that if you truly break the law, I won’t be able to keep my part of the deal,” she reiterated for him again, and he nodded.

  “I am aware.” His gaze shifted to the necklace. “It should be useful, right?”

  Marie looked like she wanted to sigh but nodded. “It will be useful. It may be distasteful for the Luminous One to use passive magic, but it will serve its purpose. Still, if the Luminous One wears a promise necklace, it will spark rumors.”

  “It’s not like it needs to be worn in view or even on the neck,” Aren said. “The medal is the important part. The chain is just that, a chain.”

  “That’s acceptable,” she said. “Donnavan, I will let it go, but be more careful in the future. He does not know our ways, so you should keep him in line properly.”

  “As you command,” the man saluted gravely with his fist.

  “Now, go do your exercises,” Marie said. “Just remember you need to attend today's dusk play.”

  “Understood,” Donnavan said and, with quick steps, stepped toward the door, waiting there for Aren.

  Aren was genuinely excited to see his progress. He had felt energetic since waking, and now it was a good opportunity to measure it. He stood and walked toward the older man who, despite his stoic expression, was urging him forward with nothing but his gaze.

  Walking down the long flight of stairs, he remembered a detail he had forgotten to mention about yesterday. “I was accosted yesterday by the three people who were watching the training.”

  “What happened?” Donnavan asked, his tone serious.

  “They seemed more bored than anything,” Aren said. “Slightly malicious and phobic of magic. They actually raised their fists, but I used my relic to make a barrier they couldn’t ever break. They went away after that.”

  “What did they look like?” the man asked.

  “One of them was tall and wore white cloth on his shoulder,” Aren said, describing everyone he saw.

  “I see,” Donnavan said. “I will inform the exemplar later, but try to avoid them. It would be better if it didn’t escalate. Let’s get the tincture first, we can worry about this later.”

  As they walked out of the temple onto the raised plaza, Aren noticed the covered structure was growing larger. Workers moved materials through a cloth partition, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of what was inside.

  “What are they building?” Aren asked.

  “The culmination piece for the festival,” Donnavan replied cryptically. “You will see it on the final day.”

  Aren let it go, and they soon arrived at the training courtyard, which was fortunately empty. He began the same warmup as before, but before he could start pushups, Donnavan handed him a stack of papers. It was a list of exercises, organized by day and increasing in intensity. As Aren scanned the next few days, he couldn’t help but wonder if the man was trying to kill him.

  “I’m going to be doing a hundred pushups five times in a row… five weeks from now?” Aren questioned the man’s sanity.

  “If you stick to this program, yes,” the man said calmly. “The tinctures are filled with the restorative power of the Sun. They’ll help you grow faster than normally possible.”

  “I… if you have something like this, I can see why your footmen always had higher kill ratios than ours in history,” Aren said.

  “It’s no secret,” the man replied. “We know your priests are trying to reproduce it. You won’t get a sample, and you will always drink it in front of me.”

  Aren wanted to say something, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to change the man’s mind. Maybe he could try getting one once he was done with this whole ordeal and free to return to his home country.

  “For now, start with day one as written,” Donnavan said. “If I made a mistake, this will be a chance for me to observe it.”

  Aren hated to admit it, but the man clearly knew what he was doing. Once he was done with the last set of picking up a heavy metal weight above his head, he was forced to lean on his knees to not fall over as he gasped for air. If he were to judge his improvement from the last day, it would be around twenty to thirty percent.

  Still, as he watched a row of increasingly heavy weights, a certain hunger awoke in him. This was progress. Even if meaningless compared to advancing his magic, it still felt good.

  “Why doesn’t every citizen use those?” Aren asked. “Even if production is limited, it could still be used to help people stay fit. Training once a month with this would be equivalent to normal training for a few weeks.”

  “You are just feeling your body returning to its old form,” Donnavan calmed him down. “Your progress will slow down with time. As for why, that’s a good idea. I will propose it. It may have been impossible in the past, but now…”

  “Why?” Aren asked.

  “There has been a holy revelation a few generations ago,” Donnavan said, his voice now reverent. “The Prophet-King received a vision of prosperity, where the golden glow of the Sun touched all people. Since then, priests’ miracles have become widely available to everyone, not just soldiers and the high born.”

  “I see,” Aren said. He knew there were changes in the desert country, but he had never heard that detail. He only knew that the nation had become more open, welcoming foreigners into its religion. “Well, sign my name under it then.”

  The man looked at him and shook his head. “Go get ready for the dusk play.”

  Aren nodded. He could do with a peaceful afternoon watching a play. Once they separated back at the temple, he stepped toward the temple’s baths. He was used to keeping his hygiene with magic, but this was the only option available to him right now.

  The room’s humidity hit him like a wave, rising from the warm waters of the bronze baths and the glass roof that trapped the heat. In the morning and evening, the priests heated the water, though it was too hot for him at those times.

  After washing sweat off in a basin and submerging himself in a slightly shaded corner, he let his thoughts drift toward the black band. He was running out of ideas for how he could use magic with it on. Passive enhancements were useful, but he could produce more if needed just by going outside the city in a tenth of the time it took to carve by hand.

  Anyhow, he could not create a cleaning enhancement with just passive magic, nor ones that could heal him from the muscle ache. The first was impossible, and for the second, he lacked the correct sorcerous resonance. He needed to start practicing his divination sorcery in earnest, but even if he did nothing but strain his core all day long, he would still not be ready for another resonance for at least a year.

  He was happy with his choices for sorcery. His elemental sorcery was perfect for his adventuring days. Mnemonic and sympathetic magic had helped him achieve his level of mastery, and divinative sorcery helped him research the will of the world.

  Aren’s thoughts stopped momentarily, water splashing as his arm fell. He had forgotten about the will. He’d been so focused on advancing his research that, once he came here, it slipped his mind entirely. He wanted to find a way to study past spells in detail, ones lost to time.

  He shook his head, sending droplets flying and disturbing the calm surface. Did the fact that Leilara loved someone else unsettle him so much? That likely played a part, but it didn’t feel like the whole story. He reviewed everything that had happened since his arrival in the desert. There was no reason he shouldn’t have researched the supposed monster behind the black veil using his past viewing. Feeling like he was missing something but unable to piece it together, he sat there, his mind circling endlessly.

  “Oh, here you are,” a booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

  Aren looked up from the water’s surface and saw the tall berserker in unfamiliar attire. Bar’tik stood there, draped in brown and yellow furs and adorned with animal trophies. Polished skulls rested on his shoulders, a bear’s and a massive, humanoid-looking one far too large to have belonged to a human. Tusks and claws dangled from every part of his body. Beneath his tribal display, a pristine blue toga hung neatly. To Aren, it felt a little macabre, though he could appreciate the monster-slaying that must have gone into it.

  “Is that what you were lugging around in your pack?” Aren asked, gesturing to the large skull.

  “It’s a forest troll skull,” Bar’tik said, as if stating the obvious. “It doesn’t take up that much space. It’s hollow, so I just pack things around and in it. If we are heading for a hunt, I leave it at the inn, or a temple now, I guess.”

  The berserker patted the yellow-tinted bone with pride, then stopped and looked back at Aren. “Anyway, get up. You’re all wrinkly already, so you must be clean enough.”

  Aren looked at himself, and he indeed had stayed too long in the bath. He looked at the glass ceiling and saw that the sun had moved quite a bit. “Is the play starting soon?”

  “Indeed,” Bar’tik nodded.

  Aren picked himself up, feeling the strain in his muscles now that they had time to relax. He felt tired, but it was not too bad yet. He dried his body as the berserker watched, his eyes judging him.

  “Is there something you want to say?” Aren asked.

  “Not really, but the training is a good idea. Put up some meat on you,” Bar’tik said. “Otherwise, you will have issues when meeting our father.”

  “You know that it’s only a ruse, and that it is your fault, right?” Aren asked, but the serious look in the berserker’s dark eyes worried him.

  “Sure,” the man smiled. “Or is my sister not your type?”

  “I have not been thinking of her like that,” Aren said. “Someone of my station should not choose their future partner based on someone’s attractiveness. I need to make sure they are someone who will be able to help me rid this world of monsters.”

  “Blah, those of true strength should worry less,” the man said. “Love is passion. Do you mages need to overcomplicate everything? Was the girl who rejected you, the one Lan mentioned, some awesome mage as well?”

  “First, I was not rejected,” Aren said, but the man did not bat an eye. “I failed at the start line by never doing anything… anyway, no, she was not a mage. She is the most talented swords master of this century.”

  “Have I heard of her?” Bar’tik asked, interested.

  “They started calling her Sword Queen after she won the capital’s solstice tournament,” Aren said. He remembered how proud he felt when she won that night. He helped spread the name himself, for which he got kicked a few times.

  “I’ve heard of her, hard not to. She was the talk of half the adventurers’ drinking pubs,” Bar’tik said. “Seventh-stage life practitioner, a master of the sword, able to move faster than the eye can follow, a beauty of bloodshed. Any of that true?”

  “All of it,” Aren smiled. “We are childhood friends and became adventurers together.”

  “I see,” Bar’tik said, scratching his chin. “Sounds like an amazing woman. I heard things about your whole party then as well, quite legends, but after what I saw I’m not surprised. So what made you fall in love with her?”

  Aren’s eyes widened but he answered, “She is my equal, someone who can stand by my side and we can make the ideal world together.”

  Bar’tik hesitated at that. He crossed his arms before continuing. “I wanted to learn what your type is. I personally like fierce, determined women myself. The kind that will challenge me when she needs to and enjoys a good hunt. And they need to be tall, with bountiful curves.”

  “Ah I see,” Aren thought for a second. “She is beautiful, determined, and disciplined. I think she enjoys music and plays, although I did not have time myself to go with her. I feel like that was a mistake now.”

  “That,” Bar’tik looked confused and leaned back against a wall. “I’m not sure if that’s love.”

  “I care for her,” Aren felt irritation rise in his voice. “I would risk my life for her.”

  “I don’t mean you don’t care for her,” the man said, raising his hands. “It would be weird if you didn’t care for your battle sister, but it doesn’t sound like you are romantically attracted to her. I mean, if you were, you would actually try to spend time with her at least, I think.”

  “Well, you think wrong,” The words struck a nerve in him. “I wanted to share a perfect world with her, achieve it together. Just because I didn’t think with my pants, doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”

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  “That isn’t love,” the berserker growled, his scowl deepening. “You say it as if she’s a tool in your plan. Real love is wanting her fiercely. It means standing by her, no matter what.”

  Aren felt anger starting to boil in him, “You are…”

  “Did you find Ren?” Mar’tei’s voice interrupted him as she entered the bathhouse.

  Both men turned to her, and Aren suddenly realized he was still naked. The warmth of the room had made him forget. Flushing, he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for the basket with his clothes.

  “Oh, you’re here,” she said casually. “Hurry up, please.”

  “Right, I’ll be there in a moment,” Aren muttered, waiting for her to start to leave, but she lingered. “Are you going to stay here?”

  She blinked, slightly confused, then noticed his expression. “Ah, right. Sorry. I forgot Teolians are more… careful about these things. I’ll wait outside.”

  Bar’tik chuckled, and Aren shot him a glare, still irritated.

  “I don’t think there’s anything you need to be embarrassed about. Your traditions feel so alien to me sometimes.”

  Noticing Aren’s lingering hostility, the berserker added, “It was not my place to speak those words. We spoke honestly, but our ways are different from yours.”

  Aren felt his tension ease as Bar’tik, visibly wary, stepped back. “It’s fine. I need to change now.”

  He sighed as the man left. That conversation did strike his nerve. He should have shifted the topic early. Now the berserker would need to be managed with everything else. Nothing good ever came from conversations like this. He did not expect many to understand his motivations anyway.

  He quickly put on his clothes and left the building. He found Mar’tei standing in her ceremonial dress. Her brother was already gone, but she looked slightly worried at him.

  “Did something happen there with my brother?” she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

  “Nothing serious,” Aren said calmly. “Just a difference in views. It’s not going to affect anything.”

  “I see,” she said, looking ready to go. “We should probably hurry up.”

  He saw that the sun was getting low, and by the time they arrived at their gathering spot, the exemplar was glaring at him. Apparently, he had been stuck longer in thought than he realized, everyone else was already there too. Crina stood surrounded by four holy warriors, her yellow robe adorned with golden symbols of the Sun and blue accents near its edges.

  Marie scanned his clothes and clicked her tongue. “We don’t have time for you to change into your Teolian attire. Donovan, find something fast. We will head out. Come as soon as you can.”

  Aren stared at the group heading out. With the exemplar and Crina in the lead, a line of warriors left the hall. Lan and Wes nodded to him as they passed by, both wearing loose white clothes with colorful embroidery on them. Mar’tei waved to him, while her brother gave him a look he had trouble parsing, but it didn’t seem hostile.

  “Let’s find something quickly,” Donovan said, urging him on. “If we are late, it will be taken as disrespectful.”

  Aren nodded, and he was led quickly to a small room next to the large hall with the eternally glowing orb. Inside were many cupboards and wardrobes, and the older man, not wasting any time, started pulling out sets of clothes that looked easy to put on.

  Aren took off his armor again and hastened to look through the items, but everything was prominently adorned with the symbol of the One Sun. With a grimace, he picked a loose white robe with yellow embroidery, pulled it over his everyday clothes, and secured it with a leather belt. It only had the symbol on the shoulder, and he had actually seen some of the worshippers wear something similar during prayers.

  “I feel like this does not fit me,” Aren said, looking himself over.

  “It does not, but we don’t have time,” the older man said and quickly motioned for him to leave the room.

  They walked out of the temple and down the stairs of the plaza, weaving through busy streets. After passing through five streets, a large crowd following the passage of the Luminous One blocked their way. Donovan forced his way carefully through the mass of people and got a few surprised looks, but those who saw his blue cape stepped aside.

  Aren made sure to follow closely behind the man. After nearly a dozen minutes of slow progress, they made it to the front of the crowd. A perimeter of guards protected the space around the Luminous One. The warriors, recognizing them, let them join their lines, but Donovan did not step toward the center of the group.

  Walking through the center of everyone’s attention was not something he wanted to do, especially in the garb he was wearing. If any of his friends ever saw him like this, they would never let him live it down. Brennor, as a paladin, might do that literally.

  They entered a large open amphitheater. Long white and yellow sandstone blocks were stacked together to create wide steps that doubled as seats. A large sculpted gray rock served as a stage, clashing with the otherwise pristine sandstone surrounding it. While transporting the nearly house-wide stone was possible, it was much more likely that it had always been there.

  Above the stage spiraled a complex metal structure. Multiple layers of metal sheets were conjoined in the shape of an upside-down bell. An outer golden gleam contrasted with the multicolored interior of the object. It made him wonder what it was used for.

  The governor stood near the entrance of the amphitheater and bowed respectfully to the two religious icons, a long white robe with a spiraling red pattern scraping the stone tiles beneath. Once he rose, he offered the Luminous One a hand and guided her to a primary seat directly in front of the stage.

  Once that happened, the guards let the audience through one by one in many lines. Everyone maintained an air of graceful respect in the face of religious and authoritative figures, but it was clear that many wanted the seats with the best view in the middle layers that were not reserved for important families and guests.

  Using the moment, Donnavan urged him to follow, and they joined a movement of bodies, using it to discreetly merge with their group. Aren found himself struggling to follow the graceful but speedy passage the man guided him through, but once they found themselves next to the four adventurers, they joined the line waiting to be greeted by the governor in a manner that didn’t suggest haste or lateness at all.

  The group acknowledged each other with their eyes, maintaining the respectful silence that pervaded the area. The gaze of the two warrior brothers lingered on the holy symbol on his shoulder. That left Aren to idly observe his surroundings as he began to wish for a seat, his calves burning from the quick walk and the training before it.

  It took a while, and by the time the large amphitheater was filled, the governor greeted the six of them. His eyes wandered momentarily between Donnavan and the five of them, but he quickly adjusted and smiled in greeting.

  “Master Donnavan and our young guardians, it gladdens me to see that our hero gets along with the new generation,” the man said happily. Then he noticed the clothes Aren was wearing, and his expression brightened with mirth. “Is that appreciation for our ways I see, young Ren?”

  Aren didn’t expect such a reaction and was left at a loss for words that would not disrespect the pious man. He found himself simply nodding, hoping that he could get through this quickly.

  “I see, no need to worry, it looks good on you,” the man said, his eyes brightening. “Although it may be better to refrain from wearing the One Sun emblems until you have been properly Sun Blessed. Patience is one of the radiant virtues as well.”

  “I… will adhere to your wisdom,” Aren let out weakly, not wanting to embarrass himself further, which the governor took as a sign of awakening piety.

  “That gladdens me. I reserved a seat next to my daughter for you, as you already know each other,” he said to the five adventurers as a group. “Master Donnavan, if you would be willing to sit next to me.”

  “It would be an honour, Governor Bar,” the officer said with a tilt of his head.

  Aren and Mar’tei easily recognized the flowing red hair of the High Protector and, with the young tribal mage in the lead, headed that way. Their seats were close to the middle of the amphitheater. Still, despite being a direct descendant, Rati did not sit next to her father.

  “It’s an honor to see you again, High Protector,” Mar’tei said.

  “Rest in the Sun’s departing flame, passage guardians,” she replied, studying them for a moment. “And there’s no need to use my full title. Protector or Officer Rati will suffice.”

  Aren raised an eyebrow at the title, recalling how the woman had called him mage. Back in Vo’Teol, the word carried a weight of respect, but here it felt more like the mark of a plague. He sat down and took in the crowd around him.

  The chatter was kept low out of respect, yet with so many mouths, the noise never truly ceased. He was fairly certain that at least half the city had gathered, many without seats, standing along the steps or clustered around the square. He even spotted figures perched atop nearby rooftops.

  It looked like the perfect occasion to hide an assassin in the crowd, but with nothing more than his eyes, finding a professional would be nearly impossible. In any case, he doubted the Exemplar expected that of him. He would act the moment something occurred.

  “My father’s most trusted warriors are by his side,” Rati said, noticing Aren’s expression. “With the Hole Exemplar at the Lumionus One’s side, we have no reason to worry. No one would dare strike in a situation like this. My father is still a great warrior, even if most of his days are spent on administrative matters.”

  “You are right,” Aren said, settling down. “Although I wouldn’t be so sure they lack a daring side.”

  “That’s true. The recent movements among the criminal organizations within our city are worrying,” she replied, causing Aren to look at her with a questioning expression.

  “I see the Holy Exemplar hasn’t shared what I told her yet,” she added, now unsure if she should have spoken.

  “The information has been passed along,” Mar’tei said helpfully. “Ren has been occupied and hasn’t heard yet.”

  “Oh? What were you doing?” Rati asked, her tone more polite than genuinely curious.

  “Training,” Aren replied, then added, seeing the confusion on her face, “Physically. I want to avoid what happened on the first day.”

  That seemed to clarify things, and a faint brightness appeared on her face. “It’s good to keep your body healthy. Even if you don’t fight up close, a fit body reacts faster to danger. Sometimes that’s the last line of defense against assassins.”

  She nodded and explained the situation. “Certain organizations we knew were linked to the criminal underground have vanished. Suspected smugglers were found dead or are missing. One formerly shady merchant even sought protection in exchange for information.

  “Someone, or some larger group, has come to the city and is forcing its shadows to support them, or face death. It was fortunate they approached a merchant who still valued his life over profit, though we lack details on what they are planning.”

  “I see…” Aren mulled over the words, this was indeed worrying.

  “While those are not good news, there is still time to think of countermeasures. For now, enjoy the dusk play.” She seemed a little excited herself as she spoke. Then she turned to Bar’tik and the two brothers. “The three of you have done a lot for our city in the short time you were here, so please, watch and enjoy it.”

  “Your words grace us, Protector Rati,” Wes said respectfully.

  “Thank you. It’s my first time seeing such a large scene,” Lan said, barely containing his voice.

  “I’m not sure if it’s my type of entertainment, but I will give this a try,” Bar’tik said, earning a hit to his ribs from his sister.

  Mar’tei was about to speak when a hush fell over the amphitheater. The governor stepped onto a small podium, and all attention turned to him. He stood tall, bearing his city’s pride on his shoulders in the form of a long scarlet cape, marked with a torch beneath the Sun’s eye.

  “My radiant citizens, family and guests, thank you for gathering here,” his voice reverberated through the amphitheater, carried by precise acoustics and lungs reinforced with life energy. “Let me once more thank the Luminous One, not only for her devotion to the duty our beloved Sun bestowed upon her, but for carrying the Sun’s light deep within her soul, its warmth shown through radiant acts of courage and love for her brethren. It is in thanks to her, and those who follow her, that we gather here today.”

  “Please bear this in mind as we witness the tale of the act that began the war which freed us from the tyranny of the dragons.”

  Then he sat back on his cushion, and a sound of chimes resounded through the seats as the bell-shaped curiosity unfurled into a flower-like shape. Each metal plate moved with precision as the setting sunlight reflected off its surface. An amber glow settled on the stage, leaving a small spot that now looked dark and ominous.

  From within the artificial shadow, a figure emerged from below the stage, crawling and writhing. An ominous flute tune played as the creature rose, a costume of leather and feathers hanging loosely from the actor, a malformed mask of a humanoid covered in scales being the only clearly visible piece to the audience.

  Then, to the side, a spotlight of golden light appeared. In it stood an actor wearing a mask with a golden eye on it, a golden robe hanging from his shoulders. Beside him stood a woman in armor, a green cape draped over both of her shoulders, her face scarred as if burned by acid.

  “What news do you bring us, herald of Azalphranih,” the man in the golden mask spoke.

  “The great massster of all that livesss and breathesss,” the words of the creature sounded twisted and seething, “ruler of fire and earth, the sssuperior being Azalpharnih Karath Eldrioi Allmanas hasss a new commandment for thee. Arrive within his ssacred peaks in three dayssss and ascend beyond your weak flessh to join us as hisss new herald.”

  The woman stepped forward, her hand on her blade, her cape furling in the air. “You would dare! His Holiness will not be corrupted by your curse. The One Sun will never allow it!”

  “Do you dessire new ssscars, hairless beast?” The creature's disdain for the woman was audible to all, the shadows around it seemed to glow with a sickly gray, and similarly collared metal plates whirled above to create the effect.

  The woman touched her face instinctively, and a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to her Prophet-King, and he shook his head, then stepped forward.

  “Return to your master, I heard your words, herald,” deep, audible resolve flowed through the amphitheater.

  The creature cackled and slithered away. Then the light shifted, a spotlight of gold followed the Prophet-King as he sat on a cushion, the golden beam forming a symbol of the Sun around him. A new spotlight of bright green light shone on the female holy warrior as she kneeled in front of him.

  “Please, Radiant Light, you must not listen to the creature's words!” Her voice was tinged with desperation.

  “It’s alright, my dear,” his voice carried the strength of his belief. “If the One Sun wills it, I will be safe. If my duty is done, it will choose a new Prophet-King soon. Trust its wisdom. That snake is powerless in front of its might.”

  “I do,” the exemplar answered. “Yet, I cannot believe the One Sun would desire its chosen one to become a sacrifice to that monster. There must be another way.”

  “There may well be,” the man’s voice was now warm. “Let us pray together. If the Sun grants me a vision of a different path, I will follow it.”

  “And if not?” Her voice was tinged with despair.

  “That is also an answer,” the will of steel once again audible to the audience.

  The woman did not answer. Instead, she sat next to the Prophet-King, and they prayed together to the visage of the Sun created through light. It moved across a stone horizon, inevitably and fatefully hiding behind the edge of the scene, and the amber glow that had surrounded the stage disappeared, leaving only the two spotlights.

  They continued to pray, neither wanting to stop. Then the figure of the mortal man, chosen by the Sun, slumped, and his head fell onto the shoulder of the woman. She jerked a little but supported him from falling further. The spotlights combined into a singular light that turned red.

  “Please rest, my Holy Light,” she said. Then, with tenderness and a blush, she kissed the mask. The redness tinted with pink, glowing petals reflecting off the ground. Her voice lowered slightly, her words flowing like a whisper in the wind, “My love, I won’t let anything happen to you. Consequences be damned.”

  She picked up the man and carried him beyond the stage, her face determined and her back straight. Her footsteps resounded until she stepped off the stage.

  Then the stage shifted. Dozens of slithering forms crawled onto the stage, surrounded in sickly gray light. Opposite them, the woman jumped onto the stage, her bright green glow now tinted with gold rays.

  “Weakling, have you come to be our plaything again?” the heralds spoke as one, their voices distorting one another.

  “No, I came to end you,” she said simply, pulling out a long blade, amber light like flame reflecting off its edge.

  “Fool, did you forget?” he said as the man and woman were carried to the stage by more crawling figures. “We are the ones who decide who lives and dies.”

  “Last time I came here as the Exemplar of Protection,” she stated, and suddenly the green glow around her shifted fully to gold. “Today I’m here as a woman.”

  The creatures erupted in laughter, until, without a word, she stepped forward and swung her blade forward. A long beam of light lit the ground until it reached the monster, and it fell still, unmoving. The creatures stood in silence until they hissed at once, throwing the hostages to the ground, falling still and lifeless, before attacking in a reckless charge.

  The woman moved faster than normal eyes could follow, her flame blade cutting down three monsters and leaving a streak of light across the ground. She fought bravely, but wounds slowly accumulated on her body, even as each swing sent another monster to the ground.

  Around her, a pool of scarlet, life-giving liquid gathered. Only three monsters remained, closing in to finish her. She stood only by leaning on her blade. Yet before they could strike the blow that would end her, a booming voice resounded through the amphitheater.

  “Who dares to make a mess in my home!” The sound was nearly deafening, forcing many in the audience to cover their ears.

  A giant dragon’s head emerged from beyond the stage and loomed over the crowd. Its steel and iron scales gleamed with dull gray light, and its eyes shone like crimson jewels. It regarded them with a cold, carved disdain for their kind.

  “Another servant that does not know its place,” the voice boomed with pity. “When will your kind learn their place? We protect your kind in exchange for a few tributes and servitude. Your greed truly knows no bounds.”

  “You claim everything we own and dictate our way of light,” the woman screamed, her voice filled with anger. “You claim to protect us, yet our cities still fall to monsters. You are a tyrant, a wielder of cursed power, a monster who plays at being a ruler.”

  “Pathetic,” it said. “It seems your kind needs another lesson. I will keep you alive and make you watch as I burn your cities and turn your beloved prophet into my toy.”

  “There will be a lesson,” she said. “One you will never understand.”

  “I am a superior being. I understand everything. I know the beginning and how this world will end, how my kind will fly through the stars when it happens,” the being declared proudly. A glow spread across its scales as it opened its mouth, and a stream of fire erupted from within.

  “Yet you will never learn the worth every life carries,” she said, sheathing her sword. “The warmth the Sun grants to each and every one of our souls.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and the golden light around her flared once more. It grew brighter and brighter until it enveloped the entire stage, so intense that Aren had to squint. Then, suddenly, it vanished. The stage was clear, the bodies gone, and the dragon’s head lay in rubble. A green cape rested in a pool of blood.

  The next scenes depicted the Prophet-King’s grief over the loss of his lover. Many bloody battles between lesser dragons and humans followed, and finally, the play ended in light, with the actors returning to the stage to take their bows.

  Aren found the artistic light show curious. He knew an Exemplar had been the first to slay one of the three ancient dragons, sparking the continent to rise in arms, but he hadn’t realized it had been motivated by a romance. It seemed rash to him, a lack of planning that likely caused more bloodshed than necessary.

  As he glanced at the audience, he saw Crina holding back tears. Everyone watched in amazement. Wes and Lan were clearly excited, Mar’tei seemed overwhelmed by what she saw, and Bar’tik nodded in appreciation. He looked back to the stage, where the actors gathered to thank the audience and the most prominent figures among them, wondering, if perhaps, he was being a bit too analytical.