The Return
Months had passed since I began training with Doya to reclaim my powers. Progress came painfully slow. My magic felt weak, unreliable, responding one moment and vanishing the next. I could feel it stirring within me now, a faint presence, but my ability to channel remained unstable, slipping through my grasp whenever I reached for it.
The Bound of this Sanctum had begun to notice my constant training with Doya. Questions lingered in their glances, in the way conversations quieted when I passed. My drained powers had been kept secret, yet something about me felt off to them. Still, no one dared to ask. Ascend Kaelric had ordered that I not be disturbed, and his authority left little room for curiosity. They did not know I had lost my power. Some suspected it, perhaps, but suspicion was all it ever became.
Eventually, after persistent pressure for me to begin my duties as guardian, the other Ascend were informed of my inability to channel.
In time, I adjusted to life within the temple. I met people beyond the Sanctum, and they welcomed me warmly. They cherished me. On some days, I would visit the market for bread or spices, and the sellers would bow their heads and treat me with reverence, with the careful respect one might offer a queen.
When Doya was occupied with temple duties, I trained in hand to hand combat with Kumbuye. He was stronger physically than he was magically. Unlike most channelers, he could not wield power in the usual way. His gift lay elsewhere, in the ability to hear the thoughts of those around him. It was a power with immense potential, still unevolved, but beyond that, he could do little.
Today was one of those days.
I held a dagger in each hand, my knees bent, my focus locked on him.
He stood across from me with his spear angled forward. "Come," he said.
I charged.
He blocked my first strike with the spear shaft and thrust back. I ducked, felt the blade pass over my head, and slashed at his side. He stepped away, fast and controlled.
"Again," he said.
I moved in once more, quicker this time. I struck high, then low. He parried both. The spear blade flashed close to my face, close enough to make my heart jump.
I forced myself nearer, inside the reach of his weapon. When he tried to pull back, I trapped the spear between my daggers and twisted.
Kumbuye lost his balance and stumbled.
I drove my shoulder into his chest. We fell together. He hit the ground first.
I landed on top of him, pinning the spear to the floor and pressing one dagger lightly to his throat.
We stopped moving.
My breath came fast. His chest rose beneath me. Neither of us spoke.
I lifted my eyes and met his gaze. Then my eyes dropped to his lips.
For a moment, I forgot the fight. Forgot everything.
I leaned in before I thought better of it.
Then I froze.
I pulled away and stood quickly. "Point to me," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Kumbuye rose slowly, his eyes still on me. "You won," he said, breath uneven. "You're improving."
I nodded and turned away, daggers still tight in my hands, to hide the heat rising to my face. My heart raced for reasons that had nothing to do with the fight.
As I walked away, he did not call after me. Perhaps he felt it too, the awkward weight of what had almost happened.
I hurried back to my chambers and stepped into the garderobe after undressing. I needed to wash away the sweat clinging to my skin. I had learned much over the past months. When my powers failed me, I could still defend myself with the skills Kumbuye had taught me.
Doya had left the temple on Bound duties to receive the King of the West. Word of my presence had reached him long ago, and he had planned for months to come and see me, though opportunity never favoured him. Now, at last, he was coming.
I needed to prepare.
I summoned Lysara.
Over the months, we grew close. Lysara answered almost every question I asked, except those she truly did not know. Novitiates were rarely trusted with the deeper truths the Bound carried. Still, she shared what she could, especially about the Ascend Council.
I asked her about Elyndra, the Ascend who had pressed me so hard that Kaelric was forced to reveal the truth about my powers. The Ascend were not surprised by Balshak, but they feared I might not be fit to serve as guardian.
Lysara assured me Elyndra could be trusted. She was strict, yes, but her harshness came from care. Elyndra was fiercely protective of her people and of the temple, and she was willing to make the hard choices others avoided.
Lysara also told me about the rest of the council.
Ascend Veylan, stern and disciplined, skilled in rituals and combat.
Ascend Darveth, sharp minded and strategic, wrapped in quiet mystery.
Ascend Seraphine, gentle yet firm, a guide and mediator to the Bound.
Ascend Corvath, imposing and powerful, keeper of the temple's defences.
Ascend Serathiel, calm and wise, with a presence that commanded silence.
A gentle knock sounded at my door.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened and Lysara stepped inside, laying folded clothes on my bed.
"I brought something for you to wear."
"Thank you," I said with a small smile. "Please help me with my hair."
Lysara worked in silence, her fingers gentle as she brushed my hair. By the time she finished, the sun had begun to sink beyond the temple walls. A faint restlessness settled in me and I had no idea how quickly the day was about to unravel.
I had just finished dressing when the knock came.
Not gentle this time. Urgent.
"Dana," a Novitiate called through the door, her voice tight. "There is someone asking to see you."
My stomach clenched. "Who?"
"She would not say," the girl replied. "Only that she knows you."
I followed her down the corridor, my steps slow at first, then faster, dread blooming with every turn. The halls felt colder than usual. Too quiet. As we descended the stone steps into the lower chambers, I sensed it before I saw her.
Giselle.
My heart burned, I couldn't find my words. She stood near the entrance, swaying slightly, as though the floor itself struggled to hold her. Her skin was pale, almost grey, stretched tight over her bones. Dark bruises marred her arms and throat. Dried blood clung to the hem of her torn dress, and fresh cuts lined her wrists like cruel bracelets.
She lifted her head when she saw me. Her eyes were wide, glassy, rimmed red, but there was something sharp behind them.
"Dana," she whispered.
My chest ached at the sound of my name on her lips. I took a step toward her, then stopped. Months. She had been gone for months. Taken by the Forsaken and trapped in Balshak's fortress.
"How…" My voice failed me. I tried again. "How did you get here?"
Her lips trembled. "I escaped."
As the words left her lips, something felt wrong. Deeply wrong.
What explanation could she possibly give for escaping Balshak's fortress? It was heavily guarded, sealed, watched. Unless she could veil-walk, escape should have been impossible.
"Bad things happened to me, Dana." Her eyes filled with tears. "I hoped you would come back for me. Every day, I stared at the dungeon walls, waiting to see you. Waiting for you to rescue me." Her voice cracked. "But you never came."
My chest tightened.
"I lost hope," she continued, tears spilling freely now. "They tortured me." Her breath hitched. "You abandoned me, Dana."
Her knees gave way.
She would have fallen if the Novitiates had not rushed forward, catching her before she struck the floor.
I stood frozen.
Relief warred with dread inside me, tearing me in two. I wanted to believe her. Gods, I wanted to. But Giselle had always known how to shape the truth, bend it until it served her purpose. Lies had never sat heavily on her tongue.
"Please," I said at last, my voice steady despite the storm inside me, "take her to a room. Clean her wounds. Give her food."
The Novitiates nodded and gently led her away, murmuring soft words as they guided her down the corridor.
When she was gone, the air felt hollow.
Everything about this felt wrong. Yet tonight, I was meant to meet with the King of the West. I could not afford to unravel now. I forced myself to breathe, to gather the pieces of myself back together.
Whatever Giselle had brought with her, truth or lie, it would have to wait.
For now, duty came first.
Later that evening, the Bound who had gone to receive the King of the West returned to the temple. Their arrival stirred the halls with movement and murmurs, but my focus was fixed on one person alone.
I found Doya near the outer corridor.
"There is someone here," I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. "You wouldn't believe it."
He turned to me, confusion knitting his brow. "What is going on?"
"Come," I said. "You need to see for yourself."
I led him down the corridor to the room where Giselle had been placed. The air felt heavier with every step, thick with something unspoken. When I opened the door, Doya stepped inside and froze.
The colour drained from his face. His breath caught, sharp and shallow, as though the sight before him had struck him blind.
"Giselle…" he breathed.
She turned slowly.
The fear she had worn earlier was gone in an instant. In its place was something cold, something jagged. Her eyes hardened the moment they met his.
"You left me," she said quietly.
Doya swallowed. "I… I am sorry. I…" The words failed him, collapsing in his throat.
"I never believed you could do that to me," she said, her voice rising, shaking now. "You left me behind. You could have taken me with you."
"I am sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough."
She let out a soft laugh, brittle and hollow. "You simply did not want to save me. If you wanted to, you would have come back for me." Her eyes burned into his. "But you never did."
Silence swallowed the room.
I stood there, my chest tight, my pulse pounding in my ears. Memories stirred unbidden, fragments of the past brushing too close for comfort. She sounded convincing. Pain rang true in her voice. And yet, something in me recoiled.
I still did not trust her.
I had sent for Kumbuye earlier. If anyone could help uncover the truth, it was him.
He arrived moments later, stepping in beside me, his presence calm but alert.
Giselle's gaze snapped to him. "Who is this?" she asked, suspicion flickering across her face.
"Kumbuye," he replied evenly, his eyes never leaving her.
She let out a strange laugh, light but sharp. "So you've already found someone to replace me?"
"No," I said quickly, stepping forward. "Do not say that."
She began to tremble then, her hands shaking, her breath uneven. Whether it was fear or performance, I could not tell.
Kumbuye's expression shifted.
His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening as if something resisted him. His eyes flicked away for a brief moment, as though burned, before returning to her. When he looked at me, unease flickered across his face.
"I cannot read her," he murmured softly, close enough that only I could hear. "It is as if her thoughts are fractured. Or hidden."
A chill ran through me.
Whatever Giselle had brought back with her, it was not only pain.
We left her room quietly, the weight of suspicion clinging to us like a shadow. I lingered a moment by the door, glancing at Doya.
"Kumbuye couldn't read her," I murmured, my voice low. "I don't know whether she's telling the truth or not."
Doya's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with thought. "That's… not good. If he can't pierce her mind, then either she's hiding something, or…" He let the words hang, unspoken. I shivered.
The tension between us followed like an invisible thread as we made our way to the great hall. Tonight, the temple had been transformed for the arrival of King Achaleous of the West. Unlike the rigid halls of council and training, this place shimmered with celebration. Long banners of deep crimson and gold hung from the rafters, catching the candlelight so it danced along the walls like fireflies. The scent of fruit wine and roasted meats mingled with the crisp perfume of fresh flowers laid along the edges of the polished stone floor. Musicians played soft, lilting tunes on lutes and flutes, their melodies winding through the hall, light and warm.
I could hear laughter spilling from corners, the clink of silver cups, the subtle rustle of silk and brocade as nobles and Bound alike mingled. It was a welcoming feast, a celebration befitting a king's arrival. My chest tightened slightly. Tonight, though, was a fragile bubble of joy.
Ascend Kaelric moved with quiet authority, with the other Ascend behind him, greeting dignitaries with nods and smiles, before my eyes fell on King Achaleous himself. He was taller than I expected, his presence commanding but not overbearing. His robes were a deep emerald, trimmed in gold, and a circlet of modest design rested on his brow. His eyes, sharp yet kind, swept the hall before settling on the dancers already forming in the centre.
"You will meet him shortly," Doya whispered beside me, keeping his voice low. I flinched, I had forgotten he was there. "And Dana…" His glance lingered, caution mixed with an unreadable emotion, "be careful what you say. Kings are clever. They notice everything."
I nodded, swallowing the flutter in my stomach.
Kaelric stepped forward, opening the path for the king. "Your Majesty, welcome to our humble temple. We are honoured by your presence."
"Thank you, Ascend Kaelric," the king said, his voice smooth and warm, like velvet over stone. He scanned the hall, eyes landing on me briefly. He walked toward my direction. "And you must be Dana, the guardian I have heard so much about."
I dipped into a curtsy, heart hammering. "Your Majesty, it is an honour."
He inclined his head slightly, a small, courteous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I look forward to speaking with you."
Kaelric was already seated on his golden throne when he tapped his cup lightly, the soft chime silencing the hall. "Let us welcome our guest properly," he announced. Immediately, hands extended to dancers, and the hall came alive with motion. Couples spun gracefully across the polished stone, their laughter mingling with the music of strings and flutes. Gold and crimson fabrics swirled in the warm candlelight, casting shifting shadows that danced along the walls like living flames.
Doya offered me his hand, his grip firm, grounding me. I followed him into the circle, my shoes clicking against the polished floor. The rhythm of the dance, simple yet elegant, allowed my mind to rest. For a while, I let myself enjoy it, the music weaving around me, the subtle warmth of the dancers around, the soft smile of the king as he moved through his guests.
When King Achaleous approached, it was nothing like I had imagined. There was no pomp, no grandiose ceremony, only the quiet dignity of his bow, measured and sincere. His gaze met mine, steady and curious, as if weighing the weight of the world I carried. "The duty of guarding the Cranium must be a heavy burden for one so young," he said, his voice calm.
"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied, steadying my voice, "but one I intend to carry, with guidance."
He nodded once, speaking further. "Then may this night remind you that even in the shadow of duty, there is still light. Enjoy it while you can."
And for a fleeting moment, I did. The music carried me, the dancers twirled, the lights shimmered, and I let the world feel simple again.