Stories

I realised I was a year younger than the vision as well. Apparently, meeting the Grand Duke made events happen sooner than expected. Solemnly, I looked at my now cleanly scrubbed hands. Was there even a single day in the past six months I didn't have dirt under my nails? Something I'd have taken as a given in my previous life, like being bathed regularly as a child, became a rarity and only for the privileged here.

"… Don't know if the Grand Duke will ever wake up. At least the convulsions have stopped, but he's still sweating and spitting blackened blood out." The footsteps came close enough for me to hear their conversation. It wasn't the trainees I had overheard in my vision. Instead, it sounded like some priests from the infirmary.

The other person groaned with annoyance. "This is exactly why we tell the students to be mindful of who and how they heal. Someone like the Grand Duke is not to be taken lightly like this! I can't believe an apprentice still dared to do so." The priest huffed.

"Forgive me, Blessed Father, for what I am about to say," the first priest spoke a quick prayer before continuing. "we're lucky if the Grand Duke just stays unconscious. I can't imagine the consequences if he was to… you know?"

A 'hm' left the second priest and echoed down the hallway. Their feet had stopped at some point, and now they were talking confidentially.

"Either way, awake or not, the temple is bound to be in trouble… you didn't hear this from me, but the young Grand Duke is cursed."

The first priest let out a gasp of surprise. "Isn't it common knowledge that he has poor health? You're saying he was cursed the entire time?!"

"I was there when Master André and the High Priest examined him. The High Priest and Master André had to consult the sacred texts for a blessing strong enough to detect it. If not for that, everyone would have continued to think it was an incurable disease."

"But if we found that it's a curse, surely it would be curable, no? Why was the Grand Duke so angry when he left the High Priest's office then?" The first priest asked curiously.

A deep sigh left the second priest. "Well, considering all the Hands are currently sent out, as well as the severity of the curse and the fact that we still don't know exactly what type it is, Master André suggested… sending apprentice Hands to the Grand Duke. Obviously, it would only be the less promising ones that would be sent out, considering the strength of the curse most likely would drain them of both divine power and life. Honestly speaking, it's quite a generous offer, all things considered. After all, divine power is rare, yet the Grand Duke refused it."

I felt a shiver run up my spine as their conversation ran in circles in my mind. The Grand Duke had refused now, but from what I saw in the vision, he would comply within half a year if what I saw still had some reflection of the future.

It saddened me to know that kids with weaker power would be shipped off like batteries for him to drain and discard. And it saddened me that he had been against the idea and yet still ended up following through with it. IF the Grand Duke even woke up again.

The temple guard at my side glanced at me and snorted: "Well, at least you don't have to worry about being sent out; there's no telling whether the Grand Duke will wake at this point, and even if he does, you'll be going somewhere else."

I looked away from him, not giving much of a reaction as I already knew this. Instead, I focused on my hands. On my left wrist, a new piece of jewellery hung. Well, that's what it appeared to be, at least. To those who knew, it was a handcuff to contain divine power. It meant that I could only release my power when the owner of the other wristband allowed it. You'd usually see them on the wrists of enslavers and slaves. Enslaved people with magic powers would be unable to use them without their owners' permission, and for slaves without power, it served as a tracking and identification device.

Had I not seen a vision of me being punished for attempting to run away, I'd have never known. The priest responsible for my punishment was 'kind' enough to explain why my plan had failed.

My body felt limp the more I thought about it. There was really no way of me getting away now. Lost in my spiralling mind, the door at my side opened, and a man stepped out.

Father Norr.

Despite admitting defeat and surrendering, I still felt a chill as I looked up at the tall man. His pale eyes fell on me and squinted slightly in a smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

"Lyrellia, follow me to the High Priest, please." His voice was deep like rolling thunder hovering above you, causing fright as you'd never know when or where lightning would strike. To me, he fits that description perfectly.

A large, thin and scarred hand reached out to me. With a shaking hand, I accepted it and jumped off my seat. My small hand vanished entirely in his, and I felt his long, sharp nails on my skin as he led me through the door and down the hallway through the door.

I fixed my eyes on the floor, pretending not to notice his eyes on me. His icy hand felt bony and clammy. Counting the crosses woven into the thick carpet, I kept myself focused.

"The nuns cleaned you up well. You've turned into quite the… pretty child." His deep voice filled the silent hallway. I didn't answer, just hunched my shoulders around my neck. The large hand squeezed mine for a second, his nails digging into my skin before relaxing again.

Father Norr didn't like when people didn't respond to him. He was being generous with me now, but if I did it again later, I would be punished.

I didn't want him to like me. I had seen the path that would lead me, and I felt sick just thinking about it. Unfortunately, I couldn't have him hate me either; his treatment of me would be akin to daily torture. Instead, I hoped for indifference. I wanted him to not pay attention to me, to preferably forget that I even existed. However, this was simple in theory but much, much harder in practice.

Father Norr stopped leading me when we arrived at the large golden doors at the end of the hallway. Meticulously carved symbols of the temple; crosses, thorns and white mountain lilies.

The white mountain lily looked like the lilies of my past life, apart from being smaller with three buds on each stalk. The scent; was like a mixture of lily and cinnamon. I disliked both the flower and the smell. Lilies used to be one of my favourite flowers in my previous life, here? It was a symbol of oppression and abuse.

Every time I was sent out to serve, I would be bathed with oils of white mountain lilies, the scent would be stuck in my nostrils, and it would be all I could smell throughout serving. Even the heavy odour of alcohol on someone's breath would not be enough to make the smell go away.

At either side of the door were two large, ornate vases filled with the same lilies, and as the doors opened, the nauseating scent curled towards me.

The room was quite large, walls decorated with golden marble panels and a grand gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting shimmery shadows from the glittering clear gems attached to the metal.

An incense burner stood on the small coffee table in the middle of the room, and pale white smoke snaked from the sticks emitting a sickly-sweet herbal odour.

Two men sat at the pale cream-coloured couches surrounding the coffee table, and I recognised them both.

Master André and the High Priest.