It had taken Zephena months to stake out the temple, and another month to put her plan into motion. There were paladins at the gate, and at the main doors in and out of the temple, ready to run through intruders with swords or pikes. More paladins and clerics roamed the halls, and a myriad of servants and staff filled the offices. In theory, it was impenetrable. Zephena grinned to herself, watching a cart make its way toward the front gate. In theory, and she loved proving people wrong.
She watched silently from the trees as the cart stopped, and the paladins in their shining armor and sky blue tabards conferred with the driver, and checked the contents. It was the monthly ale delivery – the Guardian of the Order had it brought in specially. The temple made its own brew, but the Guardian preferred the drink of her homeland. It was lucky for Zephena the Guardian had such a delicate palate; everyone came to gawk at the merchant, and try to nip a sip on delivery day.
Which meant that the kitchen door would momentarily be unguarded. Zephena squinted, and watched as the few shadows moving inside swiftly vanished. She grinned again. This was going exactly to plan.
She slipped from between the trees, her servant’s robes only slightly mussed. She made her way to the kitchen, a basket of herbs dangling from her arm. If anyone asked, she was new, and had been collecting herbage for Cook. No one would look twice at her, in a place as large as this.
Zephena made her way through the kitchen, her stomach threatening to rumble at all the rich smells. Fresh bread, roasting duck, and aromatic wine, along with things she never smelled before. So much for religious piety, she thought. The paladins and their ilk ate just as well as any noble. Maybe better. And yet people like her still had to rove the streets, piecing together meals as they could from trash or theft. She did snag a soft roll from the counter as she passed, tucking it carefully into her pocket.
She left the kitchen, and made her way down the halls. The place was built like a maze, with twisting halls, dead ends, and sudden, disorienting courtyards. Zephena smirked to herself, thinking about the squire she had plied with wine, and who drew her a map to the vaults. Although, she mused to herself, taking another corner and bowing her head as a pair of clerics walked by, there was something about the twists and turns that made sense to her. It was like a shell, curling in on itself, or a creek rushing toward the ocean.
She finally reached the door she wanted, and with a glance to make sure she was alone, slipped inside. She blinked in the gloom, not expecting it to be so dimly lit. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling, with strangle symbols drawn on them to indicate their contents. Zephena didn’t recognize the script, but figured she would know the right box when she came to it. Things often worked out for her, even in situations like this. Except for last time, a treacherous thought bubbled to the surface. Where was all your luck when Sabeen needed it? Zephena shook her head, trying to ignore the name echoing in her mind. People died in her world all the time – Sabeen had just been another on a long list.
She focused her attention back on the room and the mountain of boxes. The jewel had to be here, somewhere. The clerics and the paladins claimed it was Orania Sunwalker’s heart, the first Guardian of the Order and Champion of Imlios, god of the sun and of prophecy. Zephena figured it was just an incredibly large, incredibly valuable ruby. An important relic, but not one that was continuously on display. Perfect for someone like her to… liberate.
Zephena closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths. She quieted her mind, letting her thoughts wonder, listening to the bustle of the temple out in the hallway. She thought of the ruby, the heart, gleaming, tucked away somewhere nearby.
She held out her hands, and slowly made her way through the room, eyes still closed. She followed her gut, not thinking, letting her body lead her to her prize. Finally, her foot bumped into something small, and she opened her eyes. There was a small box at her feet, carefully tucked into a corner of the room. She knelt, and gingerly picked up the box. It was barely bigger than her hands, and made of what looked like ashwood. There was something carved into the top, but it was old and worn away.
Very carefully, holding the box out and away from her body, Zephena lifted the lid, waiting in case something burst out, or an alarm sounded, or something. But the room was just as quiet, nothing flew from the box, and she was left feeling a bit foolish. Then again, maybe it was just she who found the need to set traps around her home and belongings. Maybe the disciples of Imlios were more trusting of their people and their god.
She brought the box close, and gasped at the warm crimson light coming from the stone nestled inside. It was huge, easily the size of her fist, and seemed almost alive. For a moment, Zephena believed the legends, that she really was holding the heart of Orania Sunwalker. The loud bang of something being dropped out in the hall brought her back to reality. There was no way the legends were true. It was a ruby, that’s all, maybe with some sort of shine charm on it to make it look alive.
She reached into the box, and closed her hand around the stone. As soon as her skin touched the smooth surface, a bolt of energy shot up her arm. She thought of a tree she had seen as a child, during a summer storm, brilliantly illuminated as it was struck by lightening. It had been beautiful, awe-inspiring to see, but she remembered running through the mud the next day, and seeing the once beautiful tree blackened, with a gaping wound still glimmering red.
She felt like that tree, her skin scorched and a fire burning in her chest. Before she could think, before she could drop the gem and flee, the world went dark. She could still feel her body, still feel the pulsing in her chest, the weight of the stone, but it was like everything else had vanished. She opened her mouth to cry out, but gasped in an airless void. She was going to die.
Just as the thought flickered through her mind, and panic flooded her body, she was dropped into a field, blinded by a light so bright, she thought it would burn her anew. This time she could cry out, and she did, sobs wracking her body. There were so many emotions flooding her, anger, fear, pain, exhilaration, and somehow joy, that she could do nothing but scream.
The light enveloping her began to dim, and as her sobs subsided, she felt the presence of someone nearby. She opened her eyes to barely slits, and they immediately watered from the still-bright light. Zephena’s eyes slowly adjusted, and she saw a figure standing before her. It was a woman, and she looked like something out of a fable, beautiful and terrifying, wearing clothing the likes of which Zephena had never seen before.
The woman smiled at her, and Zephena almost thought she was smug.
“I wondered who would be next to carry my heart,” the woman said, and her voice rang, clear and strong.
“Wh-what?” Zephena mumbled, still trying to control her tears.
“I wondered,” the woman repeated, “who would be the next to carry my heart.”
“Yo-your, your heart? But, that means… are you…” Zephena couldn’t believe this.
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Am I Orania Sunwalker, Guardian of the Order, Champion of Imlios, charged with protecting the sun’s children and prophecies, old and new? Yes, I am.”
“This is crazy,” Zephena said, staring wildly about. “Where am I?”
Orania sighed, studying her. “Such a skeptic, and still so young. I suppose the calling usually does mark one for early suffering. I know it did for me.”
“You don’t know me,” Zephena hissed.
“I know that you found my heart,” Orania said. “And I know that means you have a fire in your heart, a will to help people, a protection streak that compels you, even as you fight it.”
“I don’t,” Zephena started, but Orania spoke over her.
“I know about Sabeen.”
Zephena felt like she had been slapped. “What?”
“I know about Sabeen,” she repeated, sorrow spreading across her face. “I know what happened. Sabeen told me.”
“H-h-he did?”
“Yes.”
Zephena felt tears blur her vision, choke her voice, but she swallowed, fighting them back. “Then you know I am no protector.”
“Sabeen says you did all you could. He knows it was his mistake, not yours. He knows you held his hand, and he says you helped him face his transition without fear.”
“His transition?” Zephena growled. “You mean his death.”
“Death is one word for it,” Orania said, shrugging.
Zephena didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed silent, glaring at the woman before her.
Orania sighed. “Zephena, you found my heart. What circumstances brought you to it, I don’t know, but I do know that it was foretold that one day, a child of the night would find my heart, and bring balance to land, would wed sun and moon, and peace would reign. That is you, Zephena.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Think of the good you would do. Think of your people, scrambling to survive. Think of those suffering in the wars, in the endless squabbles between the nobility. Not many know this,” Orania said, her gaze clouded with memories, “but Imlios isn’t only the god of the sun and prophecy. He is also the protector of lost souls. Of those who see the world and weep, who fight for justice but are defeated time and time again. He is the one who brings hope to the hopeless, and plenty for all.”
Zephena frowned. “Why does no one tell that story?”
“Because in the beginning, he wasn’t. Even gods need guidance, even gods need to be shown there is more to the world than their own existence.”
Zephena stared at her, mind racing. “You told him. You told him about the lost souls, that someone needed to look after them.”
“I did,” Orania said, bowing her head. “The gods are not as powerful, or as aware, as we tend to think. They need advice just as much as the rest of us. Maybe more. As the bearer of my heart, you would be able to bring about real change, change like the world hasn’t seen in a very long time. What say you? Will you be Zephena the Sunlit, Bearer of the Sun’s Heart?”
Zephena’s mind raced, trying to comprehend what was being asked of her. Was this something she wanted? Would she even be capable of it, whatever it was this duty entailed? How would her life change, what would be asked of her? She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. Her mind couldn’t answer this question. It was something she had to feel, to know, beyond her own mind. Before she could consider it any further, she felt her head nod.
“Excellent,” Orania said, and clapped her hands.
Just as suddenly as she had appeared, Orania vanished, and Zephena found herself back in the dusty storeroom. She blinked in the dark, seeing spots dance against the wall. What had she just agreed to? What was she to do now?
Trust in yourself, and the rest will follow, a voice whispered to her, and she glanced down at the jewel still resting in her hand. The seemed to glow briefly, reassuringly, before settling comfortably in her palm.
“So,” a booming voice came from behind her, and Zephena spun around, almost falling to the floor. A paladin stood before her, a bemused look on her face. The paladin’s armor shone in the dim light, her tabard spotless and trimmed in gold. The Guardian of the Order considered her.
“So,” the Guardian repeated, “you’re the new Sunlit, Bearer of the Sun’s Heart, are you?”
Zephena nodded mutely. She had no idea what would happen to her. She had been caught stealing a valuable relic, after all.
The Guardian waited a beat, then two, before a wide grin spread across her face.
“I have been waiting a long time for you. Come, we have a lot of work ahead of us.”
© The Lightning Tower, 2020