Lightblessed

The Void’s greatest accomplishment was to seal Light to the framework of reality, binding Energy to the universe and taking what was left. Energy became finite, and time became the metric by which the Void would ultimately succeed. When the Illuminari discovered this Eternal Light, one of their members rose to claim it and became Lightblessed.

***

Three horses thunked down the road, two riders staring ahead, each lost in their own thoughts. One pleased, the other confused, second sunset loomed over their third day’s journey together. Traffic picked up the closer they got to Praxoenn, as travelers came into the Falsyn Oasis to escape civilization for a time. Its untamed vegetation proved to be a welcome vacation spot, and some buildings cropped up here and there.

Numb to the others they saw on the road, Trynneia paid no attention when they stopped in the small village of Stebadd. The lone inn was called Verdant Dune, as the sign above the door indicated lush foliage sprouting between two sand dunes. She dismounted at Lord Elanreu’s prompting and followed him inside as two stablehands led their horses away.

Innmaster Wend looked up from his book at the two of them, then jumped to his feet. “Lord Elanreu! An unexpected pleasure, milord. Strange days, these. Uncommon strange. Who’s the lass?” Master Wend stood shorter than either of them, half as wide again as the two of them as well and quite soft about his middle. At the snap of his fingers, his serving girl ran to the kitchen. He rubbed his balding head and bowed low.

Elanreu watched, amused as the bumbling innmaster bustled about, not waiting for a reply. “Didn’t figure you’d be back for another few days, yet.” Wend busied himself setting out dishes, looking somewhat agitated.

“I had a change of plans, it seems,” Elanreu offered, seating himself.

“Ah yes, I see, I see,” said Wend, nodding while surreptitiously looking over his shoulder for the serving girl.

Trynneia tried to find this man’s aura, but saw nothing. When the serving girl arrived bearing a tray of warm rolls, overcooked chicken, and bland vegetables, her disappointment deepened to see she hadn’t one either. The food smelled amazing and looked better than anything she’d had in months, so she dug into the welcome distraction. Wend poured them steaming hot tea himself, his obsequiousness almost nauseating.

“My niece and I will need a private room,” Elanreu directed, taking slower bites than Trynneia, watching her eat with recklessness. “You should probably slow down a bit, Trynneia. On account of your fragile stomach,” he hinted, warning that she might get sick if she ate too quickly or too much after weeks of near starvation.

“Ah, your ‘niece.’ Yes, right, right,” Wend nodded knowingly, casting a sidelong glance at the rail-thin girl. “Not to judge, if you take me, but she looks ill. Shall I fetch the apothecary? Works wonders, she does.”

“We’ll be fine, thank you. A room with one bed will suffice, though.”

“Yes, milord Elanreu. Of course, of course. I’ll see to everything,” Wend waved his hand at the serving girl, who departed at once to start a fire in their room. “Nights aren’t quite so cold here in the Oasis as out in the desert, ya see? But you two look rough. Any other requests?”

“A bath,” Trynneia said around a mouthful of food, which covered her distant, unenthusiastic tone. She looked forward to purging herself of the sins of the past few days. Cleansing her body would be a start, but the stains on her conscience and soul went deep.

“Yes, we should both like that very much. Wonderful idea, dear,” he smiled at the innmaster again. “Leave us,” he ordered, the authority in his voice driving away Innmaster Wend immediately.

When the man had gone, his tone shifted again as he talked to Trynneia, pitched low to not be heard. Grabbing her free hand across the table, he said, “I’ve known Master Wend for a long time, but he can get talkative. We’ll eat and retire to our room in peace. Just pretend you’re my niece for now, alright?”

Trynneia nodded, her chewing slowed now that her stomach was full. Already it cramped uncomfortably, but she ate anyway, determined to clear her plate.

“There’ll be more meals, and better soon.” He picked at his own plate, not as hungry as his “niece.” “We’re near the city proper now, and should be in Praxoenn by sundown tomorrow.”

“What then?” she asked. “You’ll just take me to the Illuminari?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So many games have been played with your life, Trynneia. Aren’t you tired of it?” The casual way he said it unnerved her, and the darker colored hues that streaked by him deflected at odd angles to avoid him.

“Games have been played with everyone I know, Elanreu. I’m the only one still standing.”

“As you were meant to be.”

Trynneia dropped her fork. It clattered to the plate and chipped the ceramic. She looked out the darkened window next to her. Scrubbing her eyes with her hands to ward off the tears she knew were coming, she asked, “Why?” Anger and frustration tinged with sadness rose in her voice. “Why did they have to die, Elanreu? What possible fucking purpose did that serve?

“Some things were unavoidable to retrieve you,” he said. “Others were happy accidents.”

“Fuck you.”

Elanreu smirked. “Too bad I can’t tell Modius how good a job his people did.”

“He deserved what I did to him,” she yelled, her voice breaking. “After what he did to me! After what he did to all of us.” Trynneia curled her arm to her chest, the aching marks bothering her once more.

“You know, I wasn’t sure if you were awake or dreaming while you did it. The savagery, oh! He had no warning. The way you jumped on him with that dagger while he slept was so sensual, Trynneia. He was a monster and enjoyed what he did, but seeing you go after him like that… Perfection.”

I did enjoy it, she realized, horrified. And I might do it again to wipe that smug grin off your fucking face, she thought, looking at him as he watched her reaction.

“That said, I still trust you,” Elanreu took the dagger from his belt and slid it across the table to her. “This is yours now, you earned it.”

This was all madness. She stared at the dagger, confused, eager to reclaim it. The anger smoldering in her eyes met the cold dare in his, quenching her desire. Trynneia took it meekly, cowed by his gaze. For a moment she felt embarrassed, and looked around the common room. Thankfully no one had been nearby to observe her outburst. What game was he playing with her, and how could she escape it?

***

They retired to their room for the night, one of the larger ones under Innmaster Wend’s roof. Its heavy door thudded shut, its solid frame leaving no doubt of its security as Elanreu locked it and threw shut the bolt. Polished mahogany flooring looked gorgeous, but that was the extent of the luxury.

A single bed occupied the side of the room, abutted to the external wall. The south-facing window would let in ample sunlight once day came, and it was adjacent to a roaring fire with a steaming kettle above it. To the side sat a tub with a hot bath ready for them.

No longer caring about modesty, Trynneia removed her clothes and ignored her companion’s passive gaze as she settled into the water. Her flesh stung most where the hot water met the raw injury upon her chest, the skin still tender where the new runes had marked her. The original ones on her body remained dark, and appeared sunken in. Devoid of life.

Tension flowed out of her as the heat relaxed every muscle, taking with it the aches and pains of travel. Blue flecks of color popped above the surface of the water, shimmering and swirling in lazy updrafts. She was convinced now that only she saw these colors, and Elanreu remained oblivious. Contented, she watched the small show half-lidded, herself almost lulled to sleep by the comfort she relaxed in.

Knowing that her journey neared its end, she no longer cared what happened to her. This man could murder her in her sleep, and it would be a blessed relief. The prospect of becoming a Priestess of the Light no longer appealed to her, and in fact had never really appealed to her. Was that mother’s goal? She never had determined why Rendrys had not properly trained her for the Light.

Always an ever present facet of their relationship, it was both the most important thing to them, and the least important. It had dominated everything else Rendrys did except the raising of her own child, and Trynneia grappled with her own resentment about this. She’d tasted a glimpse of that power, but in the torture and torment she’d endured using it to heal herself and Ditan, the Light felt tainted, and refused her call. The blackened runes that dotted her face, arms, ribs, and thighs only drew further attention to this lack.

Auras had faded at last when the blood witch had worked her spell. Her birthday, they’d called that night. What had Sariam done to her body? She’d been quick to anger ever since, more volatile. Trynneia hated her accomplishments since then, yet felt justified. The dichotomy between her actions and her long held-morality soiled her perspective, and the veil with which she approached the world now seemed dim.

“As much as I’m enjoying this view, I wonder if I’ll ever get a turn before the water turns cold, girl.” Fuck him, she thought. He was just plain unreadable, at times almost kind and comforting, the rest cold and detached. Expect no favors from him, all he does is play games, she reminded herself. Almost as bad as Modius.

“I’ll get out when I’m good and ready to,” she replied, stretching. “Tell me of the Illuminari Regency,” she demanded, though her curiosity flavored her inflection, implying a question more than feeling like a command.

“Huh. What makes you think I should tell you anything, Oathbreaker?” Lord Elanreu removed his cloak and threw it on the bed, and dragged a chair over to the tub. Both legs scratched the lovely floor and marked his disdain for the inn.

He sat adjacent to her, running his hands through her hair. Trynneia tried not to wince at his light touch. Elanreu merely played with it as a child runs their fingers through grass, taking its measure.

“I’ll find out one way or another. I’d just like to know what to expect,” she said in measured tones.

“You shall, of course. Though not to your liking, I think.” He paused, staring blankly at the wall, considering what to say. “The Illuminari defines the path everyone should walk, as you know. It is said they commune with the Light, or some such rubbish. I’ve never believed the truth of that. Major transgressions are brought before the Illuminari Regency for determination of the offense’s severity, and the Light’s Judgment. Only the Regent has that authority.”

Trynneia stacked her sins against her virtues, and knew of late her moral compass had skewed. “Have you seen someone receive the Light’s Judgment?” she asked, turning and resting her chin upon her arms, leaning upon the tub’s edge.

“Aye, I have,” he replied, his voice far away. “Many times.”

“What happens?”

“It differs based on what the convicted did. In most cases the Light judges against them, and they die.”

“How can the Light judge anything? It’s just energy.” Even as she spoke, spots of color pulsed around her, flicking in and out of her view, as if everything around her agreed and yet mocked her.

“The Regent speaks with the authority of the Light. Granted divinity, that sort of nonsense. You’ll be lucky if they spare you to become a Priestess,” he leaned in close. “You are a murderer, and those rarely are granted a favorable Judgement.” Elanreu stood and began removing his clothing. “Get out.”