Chương 21: A Day Off With Revelations

POV: The Hero, Evelisse Ardentia We reached Astrea close to midnight. After settling Astra and the others in the stable, we made for the High Priest's chamber. Priests and priestesses we passed offered quiet greetings, and I returned them. A few whispered among themselves. They had likely noticed the Mooncleaver was no longer at my hip. Once we were at the front of the High Priest's chamber, I knocked.

"Come in," came the voice. Inside, the chamber was as it always was; the broad oak table, his hands folded atop it, that calm and stern expression settled over his features. We reported everything. The battle we had lost. The Mooncleaver, gone. The slaughter at Mistros. When I reached Shauna's death, my throat tightened around the words, and beneath them ran that same low whisper I could not silence. My fault.

When I finished, the High Priest closed his eyes and pressed his clasped hands lightly against his lips, still and silent, the way a man holds a thought he will not yet speak aloud.

"Received," he said at last.

"We will wait, once more, upon Lord Luminaryn's revelation." And we were dismissed. On the steps of the Great Cathedral, Ywain told us to go on without him; he still had matters to see to.

"What? This late?" Mel asked, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, sorry. That was nosy of me." Ywain only smiled.

"It's fine. Nothing important. My roommate's been hounding me to get him a Justice Bun before the week's out, that's all." We said our goodnights, and he turned down the path toward the clergy cookshop that was always open. Mel and I started across the complex toward the front gate. As we walked, Mel asked whether the Mooncleaver had ever been lost before.

I told her there had been a handful of times it had gone unusable—knocked from the Hero's grasp, disarmed mid-battle—but it had never, not once, ended up in the Dark Lord's keeping. Mel stopped dead.

"What? Then what happens now? Can't Lord Luminaryn just forge another?" She had the presence of mind to keep it to a whisper. If the wrong ears caught even a thread of this, morale across the kingdom could buckle.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"We can only wait to hear what the High Priest announces of Lord Luminaryn's revelation." My gaze dropped to the flagstones between us.

"I'm sorry. For being so useless out there." Mel rounded on me, hands flying out at her sides.

"What? Eve, if you were useless, then what does that make me? I barely lifted a finger!" I opened my mouth—"Nuh-uh." She jabbed a finger at me before I could get a word out.

"We did everything we could. You did. You got us out of the Dark Lord's lair. You put down the Mantis Beasts. Without you, none of us would have made it home, and more people would have died in Mistros." Her hand softened and rested on my arm.

"So stop blaming yourself." I nodded.

"Although," Mel went on, brow furrowing as we walked, "I keep coming back to it. Why didn't the Dark Lord come after us? Were we really fast enough to lose them?" She had a point. If Milo had wanted us dead, he could have given chase. He, or his minions, were more than quick enough to run us down. Instead they had simply let us go. Was Milo truly not the one who had summoned the Mantis Beast? Or had he let us run on purpose, so the despair would land all the harder when we reached Mistros and found it in ruins?

"Well, no sense turning it over forever," Mel said with a small shrug.

"Maybe we really were that fast. Or maybe they'd rather guard the Mooncleaver than chase three people across the kingdom." We came out through the gates of the complex. A couple strolled past arm in arm, likely off for some late-night bite, and waved when they saw us. We waved back.

"Stop running yourself down, Eve. You're the Hero. You're meant to be the one who gives people hope. How would the people think if they find out the Hero needs to be motivated by her best friend?" Mel paused, then winced.

"Oh…that came out wrong. I don't mean to pile more on you. What I meant was—""It's all right, Mel. I understand." I let out a breath.

"You're right. I can't stay this heavy all the time." She looked at me, not quite convinced.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"Unless a Heavenly Bird turns up at first light, I should be."

"Then it's settled. Central District, you and me, tomorrow. No arguments."

"…Okay," I said. Mel pulled me into a quick hug.

"I'll come by in the morning." Then she was gone. As I walked back, I passed the Grand Cathedral again, and saw Ywain coming down the steps. I thought he had gone to the cookshop? Without deciding to, I turned and slipped into the mouth of an alley. I couldn't have said why. It only felt, very strongly, that I should not be standing here to meet his eyes right now. I waited until he had gone off toward the dormitories, before I stepped out and made for home.

Inside, I let my hair down and unbuckled the light armor, setting each piece aside. I sat down, and my stomach growled into the quiet. The faint blue mana crystal on the freezer box was glowing, catching my eye, so I went over and opened it. A few greens and a wrapped cut of pork sat inside. They were leftovers Mel had brought by last week. I tied my hair back up and put together something quick. As I ate, my head felt… clouded. It was a strange thing.

I did not seem to be thinking of anything at all, and yet I also felt as though I were thinking of everything at once; Milo, Ywain's words, the Mooncleaver, Mistros, and the duty I had carried since three years ago. It all churned together into one shapeless fog, and the fog would not lift. I finished without tasting much. Even after a bath, lying in the dark on my bed, the fog was still there.

Morning came on a chorus of ordinary birds; quick, bright, overlapping chirps from the eaves, nothing like the single clear note of a Heavenly Bird. For one drowsy moment that was a relief. No summons. No revelation. Then yesterday came back to me all at once, and the weight settled in again. Mel had said she would come by in the morning. So I washed and dressed; the same as always, sleeveless black top, light armor, the skirt, the boots. Soon enough, the knock came.

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"Morning, Eve! I see you're being… just yourself again." Mel said it with a grin, but her eyes did a quick, searching pass over my face.

"Who else would I be?"

"I mean, don't you own anything different? Ever since you became the Hero I've never once seen you in something that wasn't…this. It's our day off!"

"I don't have much. And whatever I do have probably doesn't fit anymore." She scanned me head to toe, slow and theatrical.

"Oh? Showing off, are we?"

"…What?" Mel sighed and waved it off.

"Nothing. Come on, let's go. I bet you haven't eaten!" The central district was already alive with people despite the early hour. It was laid out along a broad cobblestone avenue, the stones worn smooth and pale by years of foot traffic, lined on both sides by the larger establishments—places selling hot food, accessories, bolts of cloth and finished clothes, trinkets of every kind.

Smaller stalls clustered along the edges of the road, their awnings striped in faded colors, vendors calling their wares over the rising hum of the crowd. The air was a tangle of woodsmoke and frying oil and fresh bread. A father carried a yawning child on his shoulders. Two old women haggled cheerfully over a basket of plums. A pair of friends shared a pastry and laughed at something I would never know. Near a fountain, a young couple sat shoulder to shoulder, passing a single drink between them.

Seeing all of it reminded me what being the Hero was supposed to mean. Protecting this. The ordinary mornings, the small unremarkable joys. I let myself take it in. Mel glanced at me, caught whatever was on my face, and seized my hand.

"Come on, let's get skewers!" She towed me to a stall where a grill hissed and spat, the vendor turning rows of glistening meat. We got two each, paid, and ate them standing in the flow of the crowd. The first bite was scalding and far too good to wait for; I burned my tongue and did not care. Mel got sauce on her cheek and wore it for a full minute before I told her. She wore it another minute on purpose, grinning, just to make me laugh. It worked.

As we ate, Mel announced she wanted to visit the perfume shop she had mentioned before.

"The one with the perfume you said smells like a maiden in love?" I asked, sliding the last piece of meat off my skewer.

"That's the one! You should try it too." She took my hand again and led the way, and before long we reached the perfumery. It was a narrow storefront with a pale blue door, its window crowded with cut-glass bottles that threw little fractured rainbows across the sill. Inside, the air was layered and sweet. Florals over something warmer and deeper, a thread of citrus cutting through, a faint dusting of spice from the far counter where two patrons were dabbing scents onto their wrists and comparing.

Pleasant, if a little dizzying all at once.

"Greetings. Oh my, Hero Evelisse?" The storekeeper's hand rose to her chest as her eyes widened.

"What an honor to have you visit!" This was the awkward part. I gave her a polite smile and a small nod.

"I suppose even the Hero likes to smell lovely for someone special!" She drew out a catalogue, eyes bright with mischief.

"Who's the lucky one, if I might ask?" Heat climbed my face.

"What? No, no. I'm only here with my friend."

"Of course, of course." She did not believe a word of it.

"We've a great many choices, from light morning florals to deeper evening blends. Our newest, Maiden's Yearning, has been terribly popular."

"Ooh, that's the one! The maiden in love!" Mel pointed eagerly at a rose-tinted bottle on the display stand. I let my gaze wander the shop, and realized it was mostly couples browsing the shelves, heads bent together. I did not belong here. After sampling a handful, Mel bought a small bottle of something bright and green — a citrus-and-herb blend she had taken to instantly — and the storekeeper, beaming, pressed a complimentary bottle of Maiden's Yearning into my hands before I could refuse.

"How lovely! Now you can go and seduce Ywain with it!" Mel said, elbowing me with a wicked little smirk. My heart stumbled.

"What? No! Why would I ever do that?"

"I think you'd make a great pair. And I've noticed he might be interested in you." She counted it off airily.

"He does abandon me to ride up beside you awfully often." The heat surged back into my face.

"T-that was only to encourage me! Like what you do!"

"Mm-hm. Says the girl with a face like a ripe tomato." Was I truly turning that red? And why was I reacting like this at all?

"Ooh, speak of the devil." Mel stopped short, and I stopped with her. Ywain stood a little way down the avenue, out of his armor for once. He wore a simple dark tunic and trousers, sleeves pushed to the forearm, his silver hair loose rather than swept back the way I always saw it.

"Hey, Ywain!" Mel waved and called out. Something tightened low in my chest; a small, fluttering unease I couldn't name and didn't much like. He spotted us, raised a hand, and crossed over.

"Morning, Mel. You as well, Evelisse." A faint smile.

"I'd never have pegged you for someone who ventures out to the central district."

"She isn't," Mel said.

"I dragged her here, or she'd just stay cooped up and miserable." Ywain's eyes settled on me.

"That's no good. It wasn't perfect, but we did what we could out there. You should let yourself rest."

"Y-yes…" My voice came out lower than I meant it to.

"What brings you here, Ywain? Food?" Mel asked, eyeing the paper bag in his hand.

"Bread, from that little bakery off the south steps. Easy to carry, cheap, and better than it has any right to be. They've got a buy-two-get-two on, so I ended up with four." He drew one out and offered it.

"Want one?" Mel took hers gladly. He produced another.

"Here, Evelisse." It was already out of the bag and held toward me, so I took it, and found myself oddly careful that my fingers did not brush his.

"Come walk with us! We're only browsing," Mel offered. Something in me sank. Dread, almost. For reasons I couldn't explain, the thought of talking with Ywain just now felt like more than I could manage.

"Thanks, but I'll pass. I've got plans with the dorm crowd." He stepped back, that easy smile still in place.

"Have fun, though, especially you, Evelisse." And he took his leave. Mel and I wandered the avenue without aim, ducking into shops we had no intention of buying from, and Mel talked me into a second round of food we did not need; honeyed dough twisted into knots, still warm, sugar crusting our fingers. She told an old story about a recruit at the academy who had set his own robes alight during fire-ward practice, and I laughed hard enough that a passing vendor smiled at us.

For a few hours I forgot the Mooncleaver, forgot Mistros, forgot the weight that had ridden my chest since the forest. It did not last. When I came up the lane toward home, I saw it circling above the roof — a pale blue shape against the sky, wings catching the light. A Heavenly Bird. A summon from the Church. The lightness drained out of me all at once. I let the Heavenly Bird descend to my outstretched arm, unbound the slip of parchment from its leg, and read the short, formal lines.

I was to report to the High Priest's chamber at once. I did not even go inside my house. I turned and walked back the way I had come.

"Evelisse." The High Priest studied me for a moment.

"Tell me. Was there anything that you did not set down in your report?" I searched my memory. The battle, the Mooncleaver, the Mantis Beasts, Shauna.

"No, High Priest. Every major incident was accounted for."

"Every incident," he repeated.

"Yes. You are thorough in that." A pause.

"But you hesitated." The breath caught in my throat.

"You hesitated against the Dark Lord. Again." I did not know how he knew. I had said nothing of it, not to anyone. It was exactly as it had been before, weeks ago, when he had told me.

"Do not hesitate next time" It was as though he could see straight through to the thing I had buried deepest.

"High Priest, I—""A Hero does not hesitate." His voice did not rise. That was what made it terrible.

"Not in the face of the Dark Lord. There is no circumstance, no doubt, no feeling that justifies the lowering of the blade. You have been given the Mooncleaver for one purpose." I stayed silent. I wanted to tell him the truth as I understood it. That the Dark Lord had not, by his own hand, killed anyone—that he kept saying it.

"I really don't want to kill." Some part of me had begun to believe him. But the words died before I could shape them, because I no longer knew if they were true. Shauna was dead. Half of Mistros was dead. Whether his hand held the blade or not, the bodies traced back to him; Ywain had made that plain enough. And even if it were true, even if Milo never killed a single soul, he was still the Dark Lord. Waiting for him to take a life before I took his would be its own kind of failure. I knew all of this.

I had told it to myself a hundred times on the ride home. The High Priest watched me wrestle with it in silence. When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed; not colder, but heavier.

"Evelisse. Lord Luminaryn has sent His revelation." I lifted my head.

"You are no longer the Hero." The words did not seem to fit together at first. I heard each one and still could not assemble them into something that meant anything.

"…What?"

"A Hero who will not strike the Dark Lord is not a Hero. She is only a girl with a sword she will not use." He folded his hands tighter.

"Lord Luminaryn does not make this judgment lightly. Neither do I. But for Lycora's peace, our sentiment means nothing." My right elbow felt suddenly cold beneath my sleeve.

"Then…" My voice came out thin. I forced it steady.

"Then who…is the Hero?" The High Priest met my eyes, and there was something almost like pity in his.

"Ywain shall be the Hero."