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Natharius says something again, or at least tries to. What exactly, I can’t tell.
“Do you have any last words?” Ahelin asks me.
There are a thousand things I could say. I could try to convince her that Nolderan’s fall is no lie, that there truly are necromancers whose darkness threatens the safety of the entire world. That summoning a demon to aid me in defeating them and fighting fire with fire can’t be considered a sin.
But with death looming over me, all I can think about is how the High Priestess will execute me. How it will feel to die. How Natharius will torture me for the rest of eternity.
“No?” the High Priestess says, raising a brow. “Then so be it. Today I shall grant you mercy with a quick end.”
She raises her hands. Golden light pours from them. I close my eyes, preparing to feel the blast.
Flames crackle.
But before the High Priestess can utter the spell-word and unleash her magic upon me, before death can embrace me, a cry rings out from the crowd. It echoes through the square louder than the High Priestess’s voice did, and this shout commands far more power.
“Stop this madness at once!”
sixteen
Ayoungwomanstridesthrough the crowd. Her robes are grander than the other priestesses from the temple, and they flow from her elegant form like molten gold. Glistening bracelets spiral up her bare arms. Her hair billows behind her, pale as the moon, and her skin is as dark as midnight. But it’s her eyes which make me pause. They shine a far brighter hue than even the High Priestess’s—like orbs of pure sunlight.
She’s flanked by two guards clad in leathers. Gold adorns their boots and bracers and shoulders, and from both that and the way they hold themselves, it’s clear neither are common swords for hire.
The three of them march through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs rippling around them. High Priestess Ahelin whirls around to face them, her eyes blazing with fury. “Who dares to intervene with the Mother’s justice?”
The white-haired priestess isn’t fazed by Ahelin’s wrath. Her face remains a serene mask. She halts at the base of the platform and stares up at the High Priestess, Natharius, and me. She raises her hands and golden light erupts from them. “Arandir!”Bolts of light hurl toward both Natharius and me.
My blood chills. I brace myself for the incoming blast. Does this new priestess also seek to destroy me? But why stop my execution?
When the light touches me, coolness washes over me. Fear floods from me, and in its place there’s only calmness. It only lasts for a fleeting moment and then it fades, taking Ahelin’s chains with it.
With my legs freed, I stumble and struggle to regain my balance. The chains around Natharius are also gone thanks to the priestess’s magic, and so has the ribbon of light which bound his mouth. The demon says nothing, though. He watches the newcomers through narrowed eyes.
“Guards!” the High Priestess shouts. The city guards step forth at her command.
The white-haired priestess raises her head as she regards the High Priestess. She reaches into the pouch at her belt and retrieves a golden seal and holds it high. The metal is engraved with the image of a rising sun, light magic radiating from it. “It has been years since we last met, High Priestess Ahelin of Esterra City, but I would have hoped you’d remember my hair at the very least.”
At the sight of the seal, the entire crowd falls to a bow. The people of Esterra City press their foreheads to the stone in utter reverence for this girl. She looks only a few years older than me but whoever she is, it’s clear she’s even more divine than the High Priestess.
Ahelin’s eyes widen with horror. Golden light floods her palms. “Mizarel!”A bolt of light surges toward the white-haired priestess.
“Zire!”A glistening wall surrounds the young woman and the two warriors at her side. Both their weapons are drawn: thin sabers with runes carved into the blades. The markings look similar to the ones engraved into the manacles around my wrists and also glow with golden light.
Ahelin’s attack hits the shield, and the barrier ripples as it absorbs the magic. The white-haired priestess barely blinks. Blocking Ahelin’s spell has cost her little strength.
Ahelin staggers back. Her hands tremble. She glances around in search of allies, but there are none. Every other priestess is bowing to the young woman in golden robes.
“Guards!” the white-haired priestess calls. Her calm voice rings through the city’s square. She waves her hand, and the shield falls away around her and her allies. “Seize this sinner!”
The High Priestess’s eyes remain on the golden seal. “S-sinner?” she echoes. Then, like everyone else in the city’s square, she falls to her knees and drops to a low bow.
The guards obey the command without question. They march up to the platform and grab the High Priestess’s arms, dragging her to her feet.
“I am exacting the Mother’s will!” Ahelin protests. “I have served her dutifully for over four decades! How can I be a sinner for eradicating evil from this world?”
“Firstly,” the white-haired priestess begins, gliding up the platform’s steps. She comes to a stop before Ahelin and clasps her hands. “This is not the Mother’s will.”
“Impossible! Demons and dark magic are abominable! Those who serve Her are bound to carry out her will in cleansing this world from shadow.”
