The stone halls of the temple felt heavier by night, the polished floors catching only the faintest light from golden sconces. Each step Jinn took echoed too loudly. Her veil had slipped halfway from her head, tugged loose by exhaustion, and her sandals barely lifted from the ground. Her attendant, clutching a book to her chest, stole anxious glances ahead as they approached the grand chamber doors.
They stopped.
The girl's breath was light, but her limbs trembled slightly.
"We're here," the attendant whispered.
Inside, four Luminarchs stood in quiet discussion. Their robes shimmered faintly in the candlelight, halos of silk and authority. At the center stood Revery-rigid, sharp-eyed, his posture already judgmental.
The moment Jinn stepped through the archway, the conversation ceased. All eyes turned to her.
"You're late," Revery said flatly.
Jinn inclined her head, just enough to acknowledge rank but not concede.
"I came as soon as I was summoned."
Roen, always the gentler one, gestured to the seat prepared for her. "You must be tired. Please, sit."
She remained standing. Her knees wanted rest, but pride refused.
Lerzen's voice came next-measured, ceremonial. "You were called at the request of Baron Estharr. A long-standing patron. He asks your blessing upon his son."
From the side, the baron emerged.
His entrance was as rehearsed as his expression: slick hair, an over-polished beard, and a fur-lined cloak that had no place in the warmth of the inner halls. His wife trailed behind, quiet and perfectly styled. At his side stood a small boy-maybe nine-head bowed, shoulders stiff.
Baron Estharr smiled too broadly. "It is an honor, Lady Envoy. Word of your miracles reached us even in the western reaches. I would ask that you bestow your grace upon my heir."
Jinn's gaze moved past him. To the boy. To the woman beside him. Then back to the baron.
She didn't speak.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
The baron's smile thinned, but held. "Is something the matter?"
Revery's voice cut in. "Envoy Jinn. A simple blessing. Nothing more."
Still, her hands didn't move. No gesture. No words.
The pause drew longer.
Baron Estharr's voice sharpened. "I offer my loyalty, my wealth, my faith-and this is how I am received? With silence from a girl barely known to court?"
He turned to the Luminarchs, voice rising with indignation. "Tell me-has the church begun to favor charity over loyalty? Or is noble blood no longer sacred?"
Jinn's voice came quiet, but unwavering. "I do not bless where my heart resists. My hands do not move by coin."
The chamber reacted with soft gasps. Even Roen seemed startled. Revery visibly bristled.
"This is not about your personal feeling," he said sharply. "Blessings flow from the gods. You are their vessel."
She didn't look at him.
"Then let them use someone else."
Baron Estharr took a step forward, voice trembling with outrage. "You dare insult my house before the Luminarchs?! I could withdraw my protection, my lands, my tithes-"
Heavy steps interrupted him.
Grand Luminarch Eydar entered, golden robes brushing the floor. His presence smothered the argument like a wave. No one dared speak.
"That is enough," he said simply.
He approached, slow but direct. His gaze passed over Jinn briefly-then held fast on the baron.
"If her hand does not move, then neither will ours. The divine chooses as it wills. Baron Estharr... you are not dismissed. But you are done here."
The baron opened his mouth-but his wife pulled his sleeve. They bowed and turned, leaving with stiff steps. The boy glanced back once, just before the doors shut.
And in that moment, Jinn saw it-relief in the child's eyes.
The tension drained, like a closed wound.
"You did not err," said the Grand Luminarch.
Jinn lowered her gaze. "I know."
No one argued.
After a pause, the Grand Luminarch stepped forward once more. "You refused. Tell us why."
Revery, ever the snake, pressed: "You'll make enemies if you continue like this. Nobles will demand reasons."
Lerzen's tone was less confrontational. "Was it divine? Did the gods withhold?"
Jinn's reply came measured, slow. "I apologize if I've brought unrest." She bowed slightly. "But when I looked at him-at all of them-I felt nothing. No thread of warmth. The blessings I've given before... they moved through me. This time, it was like stone."
Roen nodded, slowly. "And if it returns?"
Revery snapped, "Then fake it. Nobles want form, not sincerity."
Jinn raised her head. Her expression was unreadable.
"I'm not a priestess. I won't mock the divine by faking what doesn't come. That's not faith. That's theater."
A silence followed. Heavier now.
Inside, her thoughts itched. What if it worked? What if I faked it-and it really happened? What if I bless the wrong hands and they twist it into something vile? I can't afford that. Not again.
Her voice came low. "Perhaps... silence was the gods' answer. I only followed."
The Luminarchs shared glances.
Grand Luminarch Eydar's voice was final. "Then we'll leave it at that. For now."
She bowed. Turned. And walked away.
Her veil caught light, then vanished past the chamber doors.
---
Elsewhere - Beyond the Marble Halls
Dim corridors veined with gold held their own watchers.
Prince Kaelvar remained in the shadows, silent as a statue. Reval beside him, arms crossed, said nothing-but his eyes mirrored the prince's.
They had seen it all through the archway. The girl who said no.
Kaelvar leaned on the stone wall, fingers loose at his hip.
"She didn't even flinch."
Reval's brow lifted. "That was Estharr. He's not known for patience."
Kaelvar's gaze remained fixed. "He tried to buy temple land two years ago. Got exposed for backing raids when the locals resisted."
"Right."
They fell into silence again, watching her disappear from view.
"She didn't do it for politics," Kaelvar murmured. "Didn't care who he was. She looked at the boy, not the man."
Reval didn't answer.
Kaelvar's voice dropped. "She's not what they say. She's more."
The moment held.
Then, quietly:
"We'll stay a few more days. Just to be sure."
Reval smirked. Said nothing.
Kaelvar crossed his arms again.
"Just to be sure."