1 The Priestesses' Sacrifice

Since the founding of the Vernal temples thousands of years ago, they have had the role of grooming priestesses. Preparing them and shaping them into the caring and selfless paragons of hope and faith that they needed them to be. Priestesses, like their male counterparts, were expected to propagate the faith, but their roles could not be more different.

Every year, always on the cusp of the vernal equinox when the trees and flowers bloomed in surplus, the Vernal Temple would send a priestess on her pilgrimage to the Temple of Passing, where they would then stay. It was a great honor among the faithful – as only select priests and priestesses were even allowed entry into its great halls.

It was now the day when the newly appointed Priestess of the Vow was to be appointed and celebrated. Leaning out from her bay window, the shutters opened wide, her hands firmly grasped the bottom sill. She could not help but to smile. The corners of her eyes and lips gently curled up as she gazed down at the scene below. Vibrant reds, deep natural greens, and yellows so bright they seemed to have captured the very radiance of the sun itself filled the streets as far as the eye could see. Little explosions of colored powder sprang up chaotically while the laughs and joyous cries of the people rang out – the daytime half of the festival was in full swing.

While the city of Aurora was the home of the head Vernal temple, it was most well known as the City of Waterfalls. The city earned such a moniker with its menagerie of falls that dotted the view of the vast cityscape. The fine mist kicked up from the thousands of waterfalls could be felt everywhere, bringing with it a calming aura.

She could not help but to engrave the view into her eyes, as she had done last year, and every year prior since she had been picked to become a priestess. While she had learned to accept her role as prestigious and holy, she could not help but feel trapped. All her memories from before her time with the temple were too faded now, a patchwork of blurry images and feelings of hunger and isolation.

Her long, snow like, white hair swayed with the gentle and cool breeze that blew past the alcove. She allowed an appreciative moan to escape her brightly red painted lips as she closed her eyes, focusing solely on the floral scent that so thoroughly permeated the air this time of year. It was the little things like that which helped her get through the loneliness and boredom that came with her station.

A gentle rapping from behind awoke her to reality. As she Turned to face the source of the sound, the only door in the sparsely decorated room opened to allow the entry of a small caravan of veiled girls. Each of them varied in age and height. This day was special to each of them for a more personal reason as well – as it was also the day that marked each of their births.

Thirteen girls in total - each of them represented ages four to sixteen - gathered in prayer before they all worked together to prepare the white-haired priestess for her procession later in the night. It was there that she would be presented before the people, marking the end of the day's festivities. It was also there that she would meet the ones responsible for her protection and transportation to the city of Mon'Glacius, where the Temple of Passing, the oldest known house of faith in the lands, was located. The place that was to become her new home and would be the final stage of her pilgrimage.

As the day faded into night large bonfires were lit all around the city, followed by flowers of light that bloomed in the night sky – with every blossom the earth and sky quaked in concert. Shouts and gasps of amazement erupted from all corners of Aurora; their cheers filled in the gaps of the concussive display of color.

One stretch of road was vastly more crowded and raucous than anywhere else. Gilded Hill, the stones used to pave this wonder shone with a golden luster during the day and emitted a lunar silver sheen during the night. Now the road reflected the blooming lights above, giving the procession a rainbow laden path.

In a wave of acknowledgement, all the people still wandering the maze-like roads of Aurora quieted, and at its epicenter appeared a white-haired girl wreathed in layers of beautiful deep saffron red silk, inlaid with outlines of flowers in yellow, white, and black. Her virgin snow-like white hair was done up in a complicated array of braids, layered on top of her long straight hair, that reached just shy of the ground.

Out of reverence, no one made so much as a sound as the two rows of six girls, headed by the priestess in red, made their way up Gilded Hill and towards the grand temple at the end of the road. The procession was considered ceremonial, while to a lesser extent so were the festivities earlier during the day. Every person present, save the priestesses, were still covered from head to toe in colored powders from their earlier revelries.

Philia, the priestess in red, seared the surrounding smiles and the fervent look in the peoples' eyes into her mind. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she savored the smells and sights around her. Hanging dearly onto every second that she could. Just like the girls that trailed behind her, this was the only day out of the year that they could step foot outside the hallowed halls of their home temple.

She felt that she was no less nervous now than she was the very first time that she made this trek. Resisting the urge to turn her head and check on the younger members of her sisterhood, she took a deep steadying breath. As the procession passed by, the onlookers dropped to one knee and clasped their hands together, the knuckles of their hands directed towards the girls, in a show of prayer and thanks.

The priestesses were all fervently thanked, regardless of their youth. Their positions were holy, each of them viewed as influential and respected as much as the head priest himself – this was, however, only a view held by civilians. In truth, they held no sway over their faith at all, as they were kept secreted away from prying eyes at all other times – only to be seen by the servants that manned the halls of their temple.

As the procession neared its end, the massive bronze doors of the Vernal temple swung outward, bathing all those nearby in a golden yellow light as they opened. Each of the thirteen girls bowed their heads as they brought their hands together in the same clasped stance as the people before. On cue, a great many more flowers bloomed across the clear star-studded sky in rapid succession, marking the end of the night's festival. It was at that point the girls made their way inside the temple, the doors closing behind them, shielding the people outside from the bright lights within.

Trailing behind Philia, each of the other girls wore silk dresses of varying colors. The rearmost four, also being the youngest of the girls, were dressed in black. The four in the middle wore white dresses, while the four closest to Philia wore yellow dresses. The colors represented the stages of purity of the soul in their faith, with red being the purest and final stage.

Memories of her younger days flooded her mind with every step. She had made this walk twelve times before, as the others will eventually follow in her footsteps, and take her place in the years to come. She wondered how all those before her felt at this moment. Were they scared? Were they happy? She could remember her younger years, and how excited she was to be where the others are now; full of reverence for the Priestess of the Vow, and still completely naïve to the world around her – not that she was much better, in that sense, at this point, either.

It was not until after her last birthday that she could meet outsiders, and even then, Philia could tell that she was only being allowed to meet the people the priests wanted her to meet. Through the only window in her room, she had looked out upon the masses, and every day she would see them filing through the streets. It was also through that window that she could see the poor and desperate that shambled through the city's many darkened alley ways – it almost seemed like they were not allowed on the main roads, blocked off from where the rest of society could see them. She had never met any of them in person. She had never been allowed to meet those in desperate need. The people she felt who truly needed her guidance or aid.

As they came to a halt before the temple's inner door, Philia let out an uncharacteristically troubled sigh – her anxiety quickly built to a climax the closer they got to the temple's inner sanctum. The dark stone doors before them now were smaller in comparison to the bronze doors earlier, but still large enough for three people abreast to walk through comfortably. Once again, the thirteen priestesses bowed their heads and presented their clasped hands. The stone doors before them opened soundlessly, revealing the well-lit sanctum within.

Being taken in by the temple had brought with it many opportunities. It was there that she was taught numbers and letters, something that her parents had never had the opportunity to learn. In the last year, since her fifteenth birthday, she had met more people in a single day than she had met in all her time with the temple prior to. She had seen grown men cry for reasons that she could not understand; the light in their eyes faded from war. She had heard the soul crushing howls of mothers, clutching their stillborn children so tightly, so tenderly, as they begged for help that she could not provide.

Choking back the rampage of thoughts that assaulted her, her face remained frozen in its usual trained smile. The metaphorical mask that she had learned to wear over the years never slipped. Careful and methodical steps lead her before the altar, and between the two rows of pews that decorated the otherwise stark stone room. Examining the others present through her peripherals, not daring to actually move her eyes from looking straight ahead, she examined as many people in the room as she could – so many new faces and styles of clothing that she had never seen before. Ignoring her building urge to get a better look at them she stopped before the altar, bowing from her waist, hands clasped and presented to the head priest presiding over the ceremony.

-----

In preparation for the celebration and the pilgrimage to follow, the Vernal Temple reached out to a well-known, albeit small, group of mercenaries. Known to be a gathering place of, shall we say, unique individuals – despite its relatively few members, they were known to have overpowered larger forces across several theatres. Known for using odd or unexpected tactics, but also for their individual prowess. This time around, both Jal'hyd and Cadan, two of the band's core members drew the small stick.

At first the temple complained rather strongly that only two members were sent over, but finally gave in after only the two of them completely dismantled their temple guard in a, rather mockingly, friendly competition. Having fully intended to either embarrass the two or outright overrun them with numbers, the temple did its best to call them out on their blatant disrespect. But, in the end, it was the two of them that had the last laugh.

"So, is this the little hen that we are supposed to babysit?" Overly tall, and exploding with green muscles, the half-orc practically bent at a completely right angle to whisper in his brother's ear. Despite what most would believe, Jal'hyd spoke rather fluidly. Not that they would be wrong, most of the time. The populace viewed half-orcs as unintelligent and barbaric creatures – barely accepting them as people at all. "She's practically still a baby."

The comedically shorter of the two, albeit no shorter than the average person, looked on rather appreciatively. Following the priestesses' movements perhaps a little too closely with his green and blue heterochromatic eyes. Not that he was naturally heterochromatic – he usually changed his eye color every day, for personal entertainment. Sometimes they were both the same color, sometimes not. This was possible because of what he was, a changeling. Everyone else in their group knew what he was, but it was a rather well guarded secret among them. Changelings were both feared and hated, as they could appear to be anyone they wanted, even copying someone's voice and speech pattern.

"Looks like it to me anyway." Shrugging slightly as he spoke, he only moved his eyes to glance over at his partner as he replied. Usually used for more covert missions, he had a habit of keeping his eyes on his target, or in this case his charge. Glancing around from time to time, he made note of every individual in the room, right down to the color, pattern, and style of the clothes that they wore.

While they attentively watched the scene play out, the white-haired girl walked up to the central dais – the other twelve that followed her stopped in line with the last row of pews, before dropping to one knee. Apparently, this late-night ritual, much to both of their irritation, was expected to last a couple hours. The temples always did like their rituals, with all the priests they had ever met being longwinded and obnoxious zealots – especially here, in the city of waterfalls.

Neither of them usually got along with liturgical priests, as they were not fans of secreted away rituals, like the one they were currently present for. They tended to never end well, usually being related to hidden practices or occult dealings. But, despite what they expected, the night's ritual seemed just to be boring. Which was for the best.

Near the end of the ritual, the star of the show slowly lowered herself down on both her knees, her hands clasped, and fingers interlaced. The head priest walked directly behind her, where he stopped no more than a few inches away before he crouched down and whispered something in her ear.

Rather than keeping an eye out himself, Jal'hyd, instead, watched his partner, Cadan, for reactions. When he noticed something wrong with Cadan, the half orc asked, "hey, is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I think so." Cadan narrowed his eyes as he spoke, a long-time habit of his which generally precluded violence. "Her head was in the way so I couldn't read his lips, but whatever he said shook her up really bad. She's terrified." He had always been very adept at picking up on people's emotions, not needing facial cues but rather he was able to, as he explained it to the others, see their emotional state emanating off of them as a quasi-visible aura.

"She still looks the same to me." Jal'hyd gave her an appreciative nod of his head, before he continued with, "she's pretty good at not letting things show despite her young age." He had not doubted Cadan's analysis for a second, but rather he started to look around to see if he could notice anything that might be off. Since he did not notice anything, he shrugged before he straightened back up, towering over everyone else present. Jal'hyd was rather large for a full-blooded orc, much less his other half-blooded relatives. But, outside of just throwing his weight around he was not well versed in melee fights. He Preferred, rather, to rely on his shamanistic magics.

Despite Cadan's worries, the ritual continued and came to a closing without a hitch. As was explained to them before their coming to the temple, the two of them stayed behind while everyone but the priestess of the vow, and the priest that presided over the ritual, vacated the sparsely decorated room. While it seemed strange to them that they were expected to leave with her immediately after the ritual, money was money, and as simple as the job seemed, it also helped to spread their name as one trusted by the temples.

-----

A simple guard detail. That was supposed to have been all the Milia Gladios Battalion - the group responsible for the transportation of the priestess of the Vow – was to be responsible for. But, as with most things in life, that had not gone according to plan. Cadan had noticed that the girl was acting strange ever since the head priest had whispered something into her ear, during the ritual, held back in the city of Aurora - the illustrious city of waterfalls. The two captains had bonded with the girl, more than they could have predicted, and had they just asked her about it back then, maybe they could have avoided everything.

While they had seen her as naïve, there was a purity to her. Whether it was something holy or not, neither of them had any input on. She was kind to everyone, with no exception. She had spent the months traveling getting to know each and every one of the four hundred and fifty mercenaries. None of them had ever intended to, but many had opened up to her. They had spoken of home, their travels, and their desires. Phillia had always looked so happy to learn about the unknown world that none of them could bring themselves to turn her down.

Phillia had learned the names and descriptions of cities and places of wonder all over the continent during the pilgrimage. But, of course, it was not until the end that any of them understood why she was acting the way that she was. Only Jal'hyd and Cadan were present to overhear what was to come of her once she was delivered to the Priests of the temple of passing, in the heart of the city of Mon'Glacius.

The two captains had personally walked her up to the temple itself. It looked ancient, albeit very well maintained. There were forms of architecture used in its making that had long since been lost – architecture they had seen before, which should have set off alarm bells in their heads. Alas, it had not.

Philia was to be sacrificed at the sign of first light, in a week's time. Cadan had lost his cool at the discovery and stormed off. Jal'hyd was the only one of the two that stayed behind to hear out the 'why' behind the ordeal. At the peak of the mountain, that the city was nestled up against, it's cap was leveled and flat. How it had happened had long since been lost to history, but a woman of white hair, with two black horns, was encased in ice on its flat peak. For as long as the land's recorded history was concerned, it was a practice older than words. A practice meant not to keep her sealed away, but rather, her pet.

A dragon of pure ice was said to rise up should the sacrifice not be made, and the lands would be turned barren from the cold to follow. Both Cadan and Jal'hyd had thought it just a superstition of a religious practice long since passed its time of expiration, and the both of them could not have been more wrong.

On the night of the sacrifice, the two Battalion captains met in secret, away from their fellow mercenaries, and away from any other prying ear that may have been skulking about. Cadan had already dealt with a few tails – apparently the temple had not taken his reaction very well.

"How has splitting up ever worked out? For anyone?" However, despite them both having come to an earlier agreement, Cadan was still arguing about their method. "I can sneak around sure, but you and I both know that stealth is not your strong suit."

The massive half-orc's chest started shaking as Jal'hyd struggled to hold back his laughter. "I never said anything about being sneaky."

"Oh…" They both shared a single wide grin before splitting up now. Cadan had already changed into the red garb of the temple's solicitors, their unofficial branch that handled their dirty laundry - a few had snuck into their inn room only a few hours earlier. Now, he was wearing the face of one of the men that had assaulted them. Jalhyd, on the other hand, walked directly towards the temples mechanical lift, which he intended to ride all the way to the top of the mountain – the only problem was that they expected it to be guarded. Strangely enough, however, it was not.

When the both of them met up at the top, each having taken a different route, they were both confused. They had not come across any opposition. That all changed though, as they got closer to the ritual site at the top of the mountain. Both of the mercenaries could not help but to laugh at the situation – no matter how centralized they wanted their combatants to be, leaving the path up unguarded just allowed anyone that wanted to interrupt the chance to gather up.

However, when the two of them finally located to actual site, that opinion changed. Temple Paladins were another beast of their own, and there was a dozen of them present. Just one of them should be enough to hold Cadan, their only real melee combatant, back. While his sworn brother Jal'hyd had ways of equaling the odds, there was no doubt in either of their minds that they would be noticed.

The choice to move, however, was made for them. The first bits of blue were starting to show over the horizon.

Not seeing any other way, Cadan hastily retrieved two identical looking ragged balls from his belt as his partner immediately clamped his eyes closed and began chanting in a singsong like manner. "Phillia! Close your eyes!" He understood that others would probably react as well, but not enough – Paladins were still knights, and fought just like them, with foolish pride.

Jal'hyd finished his chant while Cadan charged in. One of the balls struck the ground near Phillia and the two paladins escorting her toward the strange chunk of ice near the edge of the mountain. The other, noticed by one of the dozen heavily armed and armored Paladins, was cut in half – which only resulted in it flaring up directly in his face. Two bright flashes of yellow light lit the top of the mountain up.

From the sounds of it, a few of them had severely overreacted, as Cadan could hear what sounded like a couple bodies falling down the side of the mountain. Before any of them could react to the blinding light, Jal'hyd's spell came into effect, raising two walls of fire on either side of Cadan, leading him directly to Phillia.

His eyes closed or not, Cadan had been affected by the bright flashes of light as well. So, he was actually quite thankful for his partners idea – he relied, in part, on the heat of the flames on either side of him to help guide himself forward. It had all been too easy. Only one of the paladins near Phillia had managed to react in time to Cadan's earlier shout. Cadan, on the other hand, unlike him, was used to fighting in that condition.

With one swift motion Cadan had leapt at the temple paladin, drive one of his many blades through the visor of his helmet, and rode him to the ground – where the momentum of the fall further drove the blade through his eye. Phillia, who hardly seemed affected by the light at all, frowned at the death before her. But, when Cadan offered his hand, she took it.

With Cadan practically dragging her behind him, Jal'hyd blocked off their pursuit with one last spell before turning to run himself. As he finished the spell however, the morning sun broke through and illuminated the large chunk of ice. There she was. The purported lady in ice. Her long white hair and soft facial features, he had seen somewhere before – she looked like Phillia. They could have been identical twins, if not for the woman's crown of horns; The two in front, blacker than anything he had ever seen, were the largest of the six horns while the other four were bone white, and only protruded half as far. Stranger still, was that he could see something else, floating inside the ice, between the horns. It resembled a large halo, only it was the same color as the surrounding ice and seemed to be in constant movement, almost like a liquid.

As the two reached Jal'hyd, rather than running alongside her, he chose to scoop her up and sit her on his shoulder – like a child. While she hugged his head, hanging on for dear life, the two mercenaries sped off as fast as they could. They could hear their pursuit lagging behind – unsurprising as it was.

When the two of them looked back, figuring there were probably more people secreted away incase of the exact current predicament, they both went pale in the face as they quickened their pace as much as possible. From a spry jog to a full-on sprint, they had no choice but to take the longer way down, as they were not going to fit each of them in any of the lifts that led up or down the mountain.

When they had looked back, everything was already starting to freeze over. Like an invisible wave was flowing behind them, ice formed over everything. Realizing that they were, by no means, going to be able to keep running and expect to outrun whatever it was, they jumped.

It was not a shear drop, but as Phillia was not expecting it, she screamed the entire way down. Both of them had jumped as far out as they could, before Jal'hyd released a spell which slowed their decent to a safe speed as they neared the ground below them, about halfway down the mountain. Whatever it was that had frozen everything was still spreading, and had already almost caught up with them, but then it suddenly stopped, after covering the – at the very least – the entire side of the mountain that faced them.

"What... Was… that?" Cadan had managed to get out between wheezing breaths. He was used to running, but the cold air mixed with the high altitude that they were just in had his lungs burning and head pounding.

Unfortunately, it would seem, that there was no rest for the weary. The ground suddenly shook with such a force that they were brought to their knees as buildings all around the city collapsed one after one. What sounded like a heavy impact emanated from the direction of the mountain as the sheet of ice that had covered it exploded from the impact of what collided into it.

When they looked up, a dragon of pure ice was still in the midst of reeling from him sudden landing. Ice and snow flowed down the sides of the mountain and erupted upward with all the force of a volcanic eruption as the colossal dragon beats its crystalline wings, before draping them around the mountain, completely concealing it behind them. Its massive horned head stuck up and panned from left to right, before staring straight at them – or that was what it felt like to them anyway.

Even from where they were, they could see what looked like icy slush pumping through the dragons many crystalline veins. From where it looked like it had eyes, six glowing golden spots of light decorated its face. Then, after what looked like a concussive pulse emanated from behind the dragon's wings, it quickly slinked its head back down, where it looked to lay it across the mountain's top. Then, everything went black for them, as a second pulse kicked off – this time launching the dragon backward, and away from the mountain.

The lost city was re-discovered, many years later, after man once again learned to walk upright upon the land. Found under thousands of feet of ice in the far southern reaches of the world, a far cry from where it was once positioned, before the changing of the poles, and before the land was rented asunder, where formed the continents as they are known in the present. The city's many inhabitants, and what parts of the city that were un-collapsed by the disaster, were still in pristine condition - as if it had all just happened moments before. It was there that researchers found a group of three strange and not quite human looking people, gathered into what resembled a huddle, shielding each other.

On that day, Philia blinked once again.