The Cathedral was empty. It was night, so only the most devoted or the church workers would still be in the chapel.
Solenne knelt before the massive stained glass windows as the colored moonlight hit her golden hair. She held her hands together, touching her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes sticking through the checkered holes of her blindfold.
Tap.
Creak.
Her concentration was interrupted by the echoing sound of footsteps and the creaking wood under their feet. From the steps, Solenne instantly knew who it was, Elyra. She put her hands down and stood to greet the approaching sister.
"Good evening, Sister Elyra. What brings you here?"
"Good evening, Priestess Solenne." The sister looked visibly irritated as she returned the greeting. "I couldn't find Arlen the entire day. Did he come by you?"
Hearing his name, the Priestess's face darkened and the corners of her mouth twitched.
"Yes. I called for him at dawn." She forced out the answer.
"He came here? How did I miss him?" Asked Elyra, scratching her hair in confusion.
"Did you search for him?" She shared her confusion. Elyra's mission was to aid the Hero in his everyday life—as long as he was in the capital, she would follow him and do anything in her power to facilitate his path.
"I brought him breakfast to his room, but he wasn't there. So I checked all the places he frequents, but I couldn't find him anywhere. It took me all day!" Her confusion was replaced with frustration once more.
Arlen has always been cold towards her, but he never outright ignored her completely. The Priestess knew both of them for a long time, yet it was the first time she saw the Hero act the way he did today.
"Did you two fight? Although he usually doesn't give your complaints much thought." As if getting reminded of something, Elyra's face paled.
"Now that you mention it... he did seem angry yesterday after I mentioned the other guy…" Her eyes darted around the room realizing her mistake.
"The other guy? Who do you mean?" The Priestess was surprised at the mention of someone else.
"Cael Denvyr. The adventurer that went with Arlen. When I mentioned his death and how it shouldn't affect him... he dared me to speak another word with this scary look." Elyra shivered, recalling his glare.
"So that's what it was…" Arlen never brought up his relationship with the adventurer, so she only knew of Cael through rumors and some devout adventurers.
When Solenne heard that Arlen and Cael went traveling together a year ago, she was baffled. All the rumors called them rivals and even made them seem like enemies. She figured it was just a Slum kid who harbored hatred for the Hero and butted heads with him for the sake of revenge. Never would she have thought Arlen would trust his back to him, let alone grieve his death like so.
"He had the air of grief around him. Were they always so close?" Solenne, feeling left out of Arlen's life, asked.
"I wouldn't know… Cael was sharp. Whenever I came close to them, he would notice and change his tone and the topic." She clicked her tongue. "What's the point of helping someone who doesn't want me around?" She let her doubts show.
"I understand why someone from the Slums would be wary of someone from the Church… but what did Arlen say?" Solenne was aware of the Slum dwellers' dissatisfaction with the Church, yet she could do nothing to change it.
"He would just say he's a friend and add nothing else. Now he's picked up some of his mannerisms and is acting strangely." Disgust filled her eyes as she spoke of Cael.
"Is that why he was colder than usual? A lot has changed with him; his walk, the way he talked… maybe even his outlook on the Church and… me." She thought Arlen held her in higher regard than anyone except his sister. But now she finds out she's third in his eyes if not even lower than that.
Even with his extreme devotion to the Sun and his love for the kingdom's people, his relationship with the Church and the nobles had always been strained. So he acted cold toward Elyra and everyone else in the Church—except the cleric Delric and the Priestess—yet still kept his distance.
One thing was clear: they didn't know the Hero well enough.
"I don't want to admit it, but he was a very capable man. I believe Arlen had a lot of respect for him. I would catch them dueling sometimes, and both would comment on the other's shortcomings, so it wouldn't surprise me that he picked up a thing or two from him."
Thud.
Clang.
Before Elyra could finish her thought, another set of footsteps entered Solenne's ears, those of an armored knight.
"Good evening, Sir Corven." Solenne greeted the old knight first, and Elyra followed.
"Evening to you, Priestess. Sister." The brown-haired giant bowed his head in respect.
"It's quite late, Sir Corven. Did you come to pray?" The knights didn't come often, but Corven was a very devout knight.
"I have. But seeing the two of you here, I would like to ask you something. May I?" He asked for permission with his head still down.
"Of course. What do you wish to know?" The Priestess respected any devotee.
"I would like to know about the Hero's well-being." Both women tensed at the mention of the Hero. "I noticed him wielding his sword with some difficulty yesterday at the ceremony. It was probably due to his injuries. And today, he went to… the Slums. Two knights patrolling encountered him, and he mentioned fulfilling a will." The knight sounded concerned over the Hero's health and his actions.
"The Slums!?" Elyra couldn't believe her ears.
"Hmm… Going to the Slums is… Troublesome. But if he promised to fulfill a will, he had a good reason to." The Priestess had a complicated expression on her face.
"Indeed. He also said he gave his word, so I can ignore it—but I'm more concerned over his injuries. I wasn't able to see his face from where I stood, but the back of his neck was dire. His movements were more sluggish as well. Were you able to heal him, Priestess?" The knight held the Hero in high regard and understood the weight of a Hero's promise.
"He still could've had someone else go in his stead… Why would he go to such a nasty place on his own…" Grumbled Elyra in a hushed tone.
"I understand his actions as well. However… I couldn't heal him." The fear from her attempt at healing the Hero was gone, replaced by deep sadness and disappointment in herself.
"You failed!?"
"H-how could that be!?"
Sharing the surprise, Elyra and Corven asked at the same time.
The Priestess's healing could cure anything and anyone. It was common knowledge.
"I supply the souls of people with my flames, which heals their ails. I need to see the soul to heal the person, and I was blessed by the Sun with that ability. Yet…" The Priestess lowered her head in shame. "I couldn't see his soul."
The candles scattered across the Cathedral flickered.
"But you were able to see any soul—even the Ashborn's!" Elyra burned with questions.
"He was cursed by the Worldwound. The only thing I could see was its shadow." When she said that, something clicked in her mind.
The Worldwound's curse…
The Priestess's closed eyes shut even tighter as her eyebrows furrowed, a strange shadow cast on her face by the stained glass.
"That is quite unfortunate… It might damage his capability." The knight was saddened by the news.
"How is he supposed to recover from his injuries then?" Elyra crossed her arms, trying to think of a solution.
"…No soul. A change in mannerisms. Sorrow…"
She lifted her head.
"What if it isn't grief… but the curse that's changing him?"
Solenne shuddered with understanding.
***
The door to Gorran's shack creaked open, letting in the moonlight. The bell rang, signaling someone's arrival.
It was Blight.
She lit the few burnt candles around the store and stood still, her hands limp at her sides, her eyes empty.
"Goddammit, you know I'm closed at this hour," said the short blacksmith, entering the room. His hands were still dirty with grease, dulling his complaint.
"…" Aven's eyes didn't leave the floor.
"What's up with people today? The miserable expressions get worse with each visit." He stared at her for a moment, sighed, and reached under the counter, pulling out a water bag. "Here. Drink."
He poured some water into a glass cup and offered it to her. With a heavy hand, she grabbed it and held it for a while. The water was cold but her hand was colder.
Aven's head fell back, and her eyes closed. She took a deep breath in, followed it with a swig of the cup, and let out a long exhale.
"My knife got bent at the tip." She slid the knife over as she finally met Gorran's eyes, hers red, the streams of tears still visible on her cheeks.
"I just fixed it for you…" He examined it and remembered the dent he noticed in the Hero's helmet. "…I met the Hero by th—"
Crack.
The cup in her hand cracked from the force of Aven's tensing fist. The emptiness in her eyes was replaced by unrelenting flame, embodying her wrath.
"Why… Why would you mention him…" Blood dripped from her hand. "He dared enter the Slums…" Her body shook with rage. "I should have killed him then."
"And why didn't you? I was surprised when he told me he met you and was relatively fine." Gorran was convinced that it wouldn't go pretty when the two met but it went a lot smoother than what he was imagining.
"I-I… I don't know." She shook her head. "Have you ever seen a noble show guilt over someone from the Slums?" Her eyes dimmed with uncertainty.
"Neither have I seen one grieve one of us either. Maybe he's not so ba—"
Crash.
Aven threw what remained of the cup at the wall, shards and blood scattering in the air.
"He doesn't have the right to mourn him. He deserves to die… And yet I couldn't shake this sense of familiarity from him…" Her internal conflict was eating at her.
"He asked me to make him a mask. Said that Cael recommended me." Gorran stroked his beard, helping with his thinking. "And traveled the Slums with ease. It wouldn't be crazy to think Cael told him about us and the Slums."
"He called me Aven…" Her mouth curled down in disgust. "The only way he'd know that is if Cael mentioned me…" Her eyes welled up again. "It's not fair… Why is he the one who spent Cael's last moments with him…"
"He told me his last words. What do you think they were?" Gorran's eyes dimmed.
"If he knew he was dying, he'd have cussed me out." A small smile appeared through the welling tears.
"His last word was 'Dumbass.'"
He walked over and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I knew it… Hahaha…" She laughed, then sobbed, then wailed.
Aven covered her face and let herself fall into grief once more wailing for her friend, her companion that never got to come home.