Chương 180

As the formation spiraled downward past the crown of silver-barked trees, the brutal cold of the troposphere gave way to the warm, light mana-rich air of the Sanctum. The atmospheric pressure evened out, causing Orion to pop his ears, and the loud wind that had been their constant companion for thirty-six hours finally eased into a gentle breeze, carrying the smell of grass and blooming nightshade. Orion touched down on the white flagstones of the Pegasi Stables.

His legs, stiff from hours of gripping the broom handle, protested the impact, but the feedback from his left foot was enough to stop any complaining. Around him, the discipline of the army evaporated. Brooms clattered against the stone as witches dismounted, some stumbling, others simply collapsing where they stood. Healers in pale gray robes rushed from the stables to tend the injured, but within minutes, they were overwhelmed by families who had come to see their loved ones.

Acolytes who had stayed behind broke protocol to hug returning sisters and mothers. There were tears, laughter, and much rejoicing. Orion made sure his broom was stored in the proper chest for maintenance and took a moment to let the adrenaline from the flight fade. Home, he thought, though the word felt strange in his mind. He had left this place in search of protection in Valderun.

Now, he returned with a regenerated limb, a Tier Two, and the knowledge that a geopolitical cancer was spreading across the country's borders. The Sanctum might not have changed, but he had, and its tranquility now felt fragile, like a glass dome waiting for a rock.

"Don't get comfortable," Pauline muttered, coming to a stop beside him. She looked immaculate, as always, though the dark circles under her eyes betrayed the toll of the journey.

"The High Priestess will want a report before we even wash the dust off."

"I'm not," Orion replied, adjusting his glasses.

"I'm just starting to get used to being back. The mana density here is higher than in the Belt. It's a bit intoxicating, really." Asteria led the formation, shimmering as the protective magic she'd maintained throughout the entire flight finally faded. She looked tired, her shoulders sagging slightly now that the weight of the army was no longer on her magic.

"Have some decorum!" a Magistra called out, trying to restore order, but the command was half-hearted. Asteria raised a hand to wave it off.

"Let them relax," she said softly.

"They have earned it." She turned toward the archway that led to the Sanctum proper, gesturing for Orion to join her. But the path was not clear. A group of witches stepped out from the shadows of the stable's colonnade. They wore heavy veils of silver lace that hid their faces, and their robes were stiff with detailed embroidery. Just one look was enough to know they weren't there to celebrate. At their front was a woman Orion recognized immediately. Elder Morliana was acting faster than he had anticipated.

She did not sneer or shout, as he'd feared. Instead, she stood with her hands clasped inside her sleeves, radiating quiet determination. It was easy to see why she was considered an anchor that kept the Sanctum from drifting, but Orion knew she also prevented it from sailing away.

"My newest sister," Morliana said. Her voice was dry, revealing just how little enthusiasm she felt.

"You return victorious." Asteria stopped, and her expression hardened instantly. The warmth she had shown the army vanished, replaced by the cold mask of the Veil Priestess.

"We bring news of more war, Elder," Asteria said, her voice ringing clearly over the crowd's sudden hush.

"An enemy lurks in the shadows, one we aren't prepared to face. Step aside. The High Priestess must be notified." Morliana didn't move, as if she hadn't heard her.

"War is nothing new," Morliana replied calmly.

"But corruption is a sickness that rots the soul. You bring an army that has waded through the blood of the Belt, through the filth of the Crimson Wheel, and through the shadow of the Tower. You reek of the outside, little Sister." She signaled to her veiled inquisitors, who spread out to form a line across the exit.

"The Law of the Silver Veil is clear," Morliana intoned.

"No one can enter the Inner Sanctum without the Rite of Ablution if they are suspected of taint. And you said there is an enemy lurking in the shadows; we must make sure to take every precaution." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Orion watched the exchange silently. Oh, how he wanted to step in, but what would it accomplish? No, this wasn't a fight he could join in. Not yet, at least.

She must have heard something to be aware of an enemy, yet she's still determined to make our lives difficult. Is she actually a true believer? Does she genuinely think some of us might have been corrupted? Unfortunately, it wasn't a bad argument, especially considering what he knew about the being that had ridden Behenien.

"We do not have time for three days of chanting and incense," Asteria snapped, taking a step forward.

"The enemy is spreading across the land as we speak."

"And if you bring that corruption inside?" Morliana countered, her voice gaining an edge of steel.

"If a seed of that sickness is planted in one of your weary soldiers? You would bypass the quarantine and invite the wolf into the nursery because you are in a hurry?" A murmur spread through the crowd as Morliana's argument resonated. The Sanctum was a place of purity, where the fear of the 'Other' was deeply ingrained. Though no one knew the identity of the danger Asteria spoke of, its mere existence was reason enough to cling to tradition even harder. Then, Morliana's head turned. She looked past Asteria.

Past Candra. Her gaze, heavy and judging, settled directly on Orion. She walked toward him, and the crowd parted for her, with the acolytes lowering their eyes in respect to her rank. Orion didn't. He stood his ground, meeting her gaze through the lenses of his glasses. Morliana stopped a foot away from him.

"And you, too, have changed," she whispered. Her dark eyes roved over his strange attire, the white lab coat, the computing crystal, the leather boots, taking him in.

"Tier Two at your age is quite an accomplishment," she observed, sensing his power. A flicker of genuine surprise, perhaps even respect, crossed her face.

"The Mother has favored you, despite your eccentricities. It is rare for a male to rise so quickly."

"The Mother favors those who do the work," Orion said.

"Perhaps," Morliana murmured.

"Or perhaps you found shortcuts." She raised a hand, her long, thin fingers hovering near his face.

"You, most of all, must be purified," she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. Asteria moved to interpose between the two, but Orion raised a hand to stop her. He looked at Morliana, and surprisingly, he didn't see a monster, as she'd grown to be in his mind over the past months, but he did see a relic from another age, someone who simply couldn't understand the new world they were in. She isn't evil, he realized. Not actively, at least. Hell, she might even serve a purpose.

In a closed system, she fosters stability. But that also means, in an open system under attack, she leads to its destruction.

"Elder," Orion said, maintaining a respectful tone but speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I will submit to any rite after we have informed the High Priestess."

"The Rite is mandatory," Morliana said, her eyes narrowing.

"There are no exceptions."

"There are always exceptions," a new voice cut in. Candra stepped forward. The older witch bore little resemblance to the ethereal Asteria or the monolithic Morliana. She proudly showed her age, bent by aches and centuries, but was not inferior because of it.

"Elder Candra," Morliana greeted her stiffly.

"You would stand with the boy?"

"I stand with the Sanctum, as I always have," Candra replied.

"The Rite of Ablution applies to peacetime returns," she continued, narrowing her eyes.

"But under the Martial Protocols of the Third Age, intelligence regarding an Existential Threat to the coven overrides all ritual requirements." Morliana stiffened.

"This is not a declared war."

"It is now," Candra said, her eyes flashing.

"I know what lies beyond the Belt. There are voids in the minds of the fishermen who laid eyes upon it. This is not a spiritual malaise, Morliana. It is a blade at our throat. Do not help it sink into our flesh." Her words hung in the air, heavy and damning.

"You accuse me of negligence?" Morliana hissed, her voice trembling with indignation.

"Only of blindness," Candra retorted.

"We have important information the High Priestess must know. Every second you keep us here is a second you aid the enemy." The crowd started to murmur. The excitement of the homecoming turned into a tense political standoff, and the Inquisitors looked to Morliana, uncertain whether to escalate, while the returning witches bristled, moving closer to their commanders. Orion watched the variables change.

Candra had taken a bold step by depicting Morliana's request as unreasonable, but it also risked provoking the most powerful Veil Priestess into overreaction. Morliana looked from Candra to Asteria, and finally back to Orion.

"You invoke the Third Age," Morliana said quietly, her voice dangerous.

"Do you remember how that Age ended, Candra? In fire. Because we forgot who we were."

"Better to burn as who we are," Candra said softly, "than to die pristine because we were too afraid to fight." Morliana's eyes flashed, and for a second, Orion felt the full weight of her aura press down on him. It wasn't the crushing gravity of the Grandmaster or the scorching heat of a dragon; it was a dry, suffocating pressure, like being buried in sand. It was intense, no doubt about it, but compared to that evening when she'd cornered him, it was manageable.

Before Morliana could increase the pressure, a sound cut through the tension like a bell. It was a deep vibration that echoed through the courtyard, rustling the leaves of nearby trees. High above them, from the tallest moonstone spire that reached toward the Moon, a light pulsed.

"Enough." The wards of the Sanctum amplified the voice, and only one person had such mastery over the ancient magics. It was calm, melodious, and completely commanding. The High Priestess had taken notice of them. Morliana's aura disappeared instantly. She bowed her head, the tension leaving her body as if strings had been cut. Even Candra and Asteria dropped to one knee. Orion hesitated for a second, then bowed deeply.

"The Moon Mother weeps to see her daughters quarreling at the gate," the Voice continued.

"The shadow is real. We have felt the cold tide rising, even in the west." A beam of moonlight fell from the spire, lighting the path between Morliana's inquisitors.

"Veil Priestess Asteria Voidwalker. Veil Priestess Candra. And Orion, son of Asteria," the Voice intoned.

"Come to the Moon Chamber." The beam retracted, leaving behind a deafening silence. Morliana slowly stood up. She glanced at the open path, then at Orion. Her face was no longer filled with anger, only a deep, weary sorrow.

"You have your audience," she whispered to him.

"Pray that your words are worth the cost." With that, she stepped aside, and her Inquisitors melted back into the shadows. Asteria stood, brushing dust off her knees. She glanced at Orion, a mixture of pride and worry flickering in her eyes.

"Well," she murmured, patting his cheek as if to ensure he was fine.

"We certainly know how to make an entrance."

"That was unnecessary," Orion muttered, adjusting his lab coat.

"Let's go. I have a feeling this won't just be about reporting what we've seen." He strode past the retreating witches without even glancing back, simply heading toward the spire, making his way to the center of the web where the fate of the Sanctum would be decided. Not quite what you expected when you kicked us out, huh, old hag?