Chapter 36: Book II: Chapter 16: The Anchorite

Chapter 16: The Anchorite

“Oh, stop your praying! This room is lined with Stargent. The Gods can’t hear you. Hells, no one can, considering the enchantments I placed. So put that tongue of yours to good use and tell me what I want to know!”

“Why bother screaming? It's only going to get worse, and there isn’t any help coming. Besides, you still have most of your skin, so stop your weeping.”

“ Ack! Spitting is very rude. You still need your lips and tongue, but what about your nose? Actually, that’s perfect! You won’t even smell your own piss anymore? Oh, you hadn’t noticed you wet yourself? Don’t feel bad. It comes with the business. You even held your bladder longer than your Wife did.” - Lavrentiy of Merk, Chief Questioner of Gobavi Tzardom.

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Getting down from the rooftop proved to be more of a challenge than Natalie anticipated. While unliving agility let her descend easily, Cole had a bit more difficulty. Looking up at the struggling Paladin, Natalie offered to help for perhaps the fifth time. “I can cut you hand holds.”

Grunting as he tried to balance his large bulk on a precarious ledge Cole repeated his answer. “Thanks but no thanks. I’m not looking forward to explaining your defacement of the Woad Gate. Let's not add this building's masonry to your tally.”

Sighing, Natalie leaned against the alley wall and watched as Cole struggled to descend to street level. Cole was maybe just a story above the ground now but had run out of convenient handholds. Forced to make do with more tenuous grips. A crunch of stone cut the air, and Natalie flinched as Cole fell. “JAG!” the Paladin cursed as he dropped. His fingers caught on a small ledge and barely arrested his fall. Looking down, Cole realized he hadn’t much more to go and simply let himself fall.

Hitting the cobblestones with a thunk, he waved his hands like they’d been burned. Going over to him, Natalie saw he’d managed to bang up his fingers pretty bad but still had all of them. Reaching out, she kissed his fingers as he grumbled at the pain. Smiling slightly, Natalie asked. “How could that possibly hurt? I’ve seen you ignore far worse.”

Cole just shrugged. “Something about the fingers; nothing hurts like them.”

As the worst of his pain faded, Cole set out from the alley, Natalie right behind. They had no issue pushing through the small throngs of people amassed outside the Temple. Cole’s tattered appearance doing its usual work of clearing a path. The Temple's front doors were wide open, but a quartet of Priests had it blocked off. Filtering the injured and the needy from the simply scared. Upon Cole’s approach, one of the Priests started to say something. But his words died and revived on seeing the scarred man.

“Hey! Sto-... Sir Paladin? Is that you?”

A murmur escaped the crowd, and hushed whispers spread out from Cole. Another thing the Paladin was getting annoyingly used to. “Yes, I’m here to report to the Temple Elders. Is that a problem?”

The Priest nodded and started to step aside before remembering something. “Uh. Sir… While you were gone, your prisoner… she escaped.”

Natalie came up from behind Cole and coughed. “I didn’t really escape. But that doesn’t really matter. I’m here now.”

The lead Priest made a warding gesture at Natalie but still stepped aside. The duo entered the Temple proper and set out for the Fane of the Tenth Temple. Looking at the cold black stone of the Temple’s innards, Natalie let out a melancholic sigh. She’d enjoyed her taste of freedom and knew it was over. Now returned to the Temple, she could actually dwell on the possible consequences of her actions. Priest Morri’s threat to stake her and dump her in the Ocean suddenly felt all that more unsettling.

Any Priest or Temple worker they passed in the halls shied away from the pair. Natalie noticed the guarded looks she’d got. A few Priests even let their hands drift to their waist and whatever weapons they had hidden under their robes. Reminding Natalie exactly how precarious her situation might be. She was a Vampire, an undead abomination born out of betrayal. Cursed by the Pantheon and blessed by Fell Gods so she might stalk the night eternally. Feeding on innocent blood while the person she once was was slowly eroded away by predatory malice.

Reaching out to grab Cole’s arm, looking for any comfort his presence might give. Natalie tried to distract herself. “What exactly is the plan?”

Cole snaked his hand into hers. Seeing the worry on Natalie’s face. “The Hierophants of Sister Sun were cloistered in their Fane working to break the Cawl. I assume the Hierophants of Master Time are doing much the same. We will go and meet with them. Explain the situation and hopefully ease any worries they have.”

They kept walking as Natalie just watched Cole for a little bit. She couldn’t understand how ‘Happy-Go-Lucky’ he could be in situations like this. Natalie could never tell if he really was just that hopeful or if there was some deeper cunning at work. Realizing her life and liberty were on the line, she decided to test that.

“What if they don’t listen to us? What if my existence and escape proves too much?” Natalie asked. Trying to keep her tone level and not think about being buried alive or beheaded.

Cole squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You had the opportunity to escape the city. Instead, you did exactly what you said you would. Helping the Werefolk and then helping me. Those are loud actions, not so easily dismissed.”

Seeing she wasn’t totally convinced, Cole added. “Even if they won’t listen to you, they will listen to me. My own actions and the weight behind them will speak loud enough no one will countermand me.”

With his free hand, Cole played with his amulet. Letting the metal dance between his fingers. “I swore I’d protect you, Nat. That is a duty I won’t fail.”

Natalie felt both comforted and worried. Cole had a point. He’d killed a literal Demon, recovered a Holy Relic, and stopped a violent Riot in the span of twelve hours. Just one of those would give him some impressive leverage. Leverage she knew he wasn’t eager to use. It went unspoken, but Natalie knew Cole disliked using his status and accomplishments to get his way. A personal rule he only seemed to break if absolutely necessary or if she was involved.

Any further discussion was cut short by their arrival. They had reached the Fane. The inner sanctum of the Temple and its locus of power. Natalie had expected an ornate shrine, not the slab of rough-hewn stone before them. Roughly circular in shape, the huge piece of rock capped the hallway they’d entered. Easily the size of a millstone, the rock had crude carvings and red ochre decorating it. Making it look like some forgotten relic from the first Epoch when men were little more than animals.

Cole took off his amulet and pressed it into the stone. A spiral of pale-blue light streamed out from the amulet. Worn away marks in the rock given new life by the light. Showing an impossibly intricate nest of runes and pictograms layered on top of each other. Pulling his hand and the amulet back, Cole gripped onto the great stone and heaved. It rolled to the side, slipping into the nearby wall like some great gear on a track. Blinking away her surprise, Natalie looked at the strange ‘door’ and its place in the wall. Quickly following Cole as he stepped into the chamber beyond.

The sound of flowing water and quiet chanting greeted them in the Fane. Barely illuminated by flickering blue ghost-light, the Fane reminded Natalie of caves beneath Glockmire. Living rock had been carved into a circular chamber ringed by a small moat of cold well water. A bridge of stone connected the entrance to the inside of the moat. The far wall was dominated by a small waterfall flowing out of the rock and feeding the moat. Alcoves sat behind the waterfall, each holding a bleached skull. Natalie was tempted to increase her false-life just to shiver at that sight.

At the chamber's center was a great table of gray stone surrounded by five figures in the dark robes of Master Time. All five stopped their chanting and turned to their arrival. Natalie recognized three of them. Morri, the retired Restbringer, and the two elder Priests she’d overheard in the Clinic. Hedwig and Bertram, if Natalie’s memory served correctly.

Hierophant Bertram stepped forward, his nostrils flared. “I see you’ve retrieved your Prisoner, Sir Paladin. Would you explain why you’ve brought it into this Holy space?”

Cole bowed slightly. “Keepers of the Dead, Hierophants of Master Time, Senior Priests of the Temple. I did not capture Natalie; she returned with me willingly after helping the Werefolk and myself.”

He stressed the word ‘she’ in such a way that made it clear Natalie wasn’t to be depersoned in his presence. Before Cole’s subtle insistence could become an insult, Morri spoke. “I see Mina was correct then. She believed you’d keep your word and not flee our custody… permanently.”

Natalie nodded. “I was the only one who could reach the Werefolk in time. I’m cursed, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a curse.”

That got a shift from some of the Keepers, but none voiced their opinions. Cole pulled the attention back to him by retrieving the Arrow of Saint Arka from his person and holding it up. “We can discuss Natalie later. I want to inform you of all that has transpired.”

So for the third time, Cole recounted events. Changing his death to simply being knocked unconscious, but otherwise sparing no detail. Natalie chimed in occasionally to add more or correct a detail from her account. But otherwise, let Cole explain things to the Keepers. Who, for their part, simply absorbed everything with a mute horror Natalie was quickly associating with Cole’s ‘reports.’

When Cole finished, Keeper Hedwig broke the silence. “This… this is all disturbing news Paladin Cole. A Demon beneath our very feet? And these Murders, they might be connected to this Demon?”

Before Cole could respond, Morri asked Natalie. “You said the Gate opened for the Mob? And there were soldiers among the Rioters?”

Nodding, Natalie elaborated. “I’m no expert, but it seemed like organized people were part of the Mob, not the whole thing but… hiding in it. They had silver weapons and proper armor. When I returned to the Gate and found Cole, a squad of them were nearby. I didn’t stay to learn more; I just tried to get us out of there.”

Morri stroked his mustache and contemplated that. “If she speaks the truth, this situation could be much worse than we’d thought. Demons, Werefolk, Ritual Killings, An organized Riot, and a Cawl? Too much too soon.”

Looking at the Fane’s altar, Cole asked. “Did you manage to disrupt the Cawl?”

A few glances were given Natalie’s way. Unspoken doubt about her trustworthiness. Before it could become a problem, one of the Keepers answered. “It's unraveling, but it’ll probably be a few more hours till it's gone.” Looking at the Paladin, the Keeper, a squat older woman with dark skin and braided hair, said, “But I have a theory about its origin.”

Cole bowed to the woman. “Keeper Nyami.”

Nyami tapped her wrinkled chin and started to explain. “Large-scale Cawls are born of metaphysical paradoxes and disturbances to the Aether. The Beyond is divided into the Light, the Dark, and the Gray. When those elements mix, things get messy, and a Cawl can be the result. Thousands of people fighting to protect their homes by attacking innocents in a misguided example of righteous wrath? That's a very messy situation, not helped by a Demons obliteration. The Aether was already stirred up, and then a rock was dropped like that? Messy messy business.”

Cole felt his stomach drop clean through the floor and down to the warrens below. “Are… are you saying the Cawl is my fault?”

The old Priestess shrugged and reached up to Cole’s cheek, pinching it like he was her favorite grandson. Cole was too stunned to react to the alien display of affection. “Oh, deary, don’t whip yourself. You did not know the Demon's death would add to an already stirred-up Aether. Besides, even if you did, it's not like you could have spared the Demon. It needed to die as soon as possible. Don’t shoulder blame you haven’t earned. The Cawl might have been sparked by you, but the fools Sister Sun burned were the ones who provided the fuel.”

That did little to soothe the knob of self-recrimination congealing in Cole. Natalie could almost see his angst solidifying around him. The young Vampire wanted to both hug him and violently shake him. The poor man had a veritable complex when it came to guilt.

Before she could reach out to do either, Natalie was interrupted by the last Keeper. So quiet Natalie had barely noticed him. Stepping forward into the blue light, Natalie was struck by his appearance. The last Keeper was both beautiful and hideous. His features were delicate and perfect, to the point they seemed doll-like. While his eyes were canted and slightly too large for the face surrounding them. Exotic beauty rendered disturbing by its unnatural perfection. But those features came secondary to his long pointed ears.

Under her breath, Natalie whispered the only word that seemed right. “Elf.”

The last Keeper smiled slightly. Showing perfect teeth slightly too small for his face. “Quarter Elf, actually, but that is neither here nor there.” looking at Cole then, he continued. “I’ve sent word to the other Temples and the City Palace. Our fellows in the Fourth Temple confirm your story and want you to know the Guards have been retrieved from the Warrens. They are undergoing cleansing as we speak.”

Cole pulled himself from his mounting melancholy and bowed to the last Keeper. “Eldest Glynn. It’s rare for you to leave your duties. I thank you for helping us with this.”

Thin lips quirked in a smile as Eldest Glynn explained. “There are plenty of other Seers in the Temple, and for my other duties, I am not leaving them unattended. In fact, I have been awaiting your arrival.”

Frowning, Cole asked. “What business does the Keeper of the Anchorite have with me?”

Eldest Glynn laughed, a noise unnaturally melodic. “Presumptuous Sir Paladin, but understandable. No, you are required at the City Palace. The Court and the Council want to speak with you. I’m here to bring your partner to the Anchorite. They have requested her presence.”

A tense silence filled the Fane, broken by Keeper Bertram. “You cannot be serious? Letting an Undead, especially one as powerful as…her, near the Anchorite?”

Glynn shrugged. “I am their Keeper, not their master. That title belongs to our God, Bertram. Do not forget that in your zeal.”

The rebuked Hierophant shrunk back, and Eldest Glynn reached out for Natalie’s hand. “So, will you follow me to the Hermitage?”

A confused Natalie looked to Cole, who gave Glynn a cool look. “Why does the Anchorite want to speak with Natalie?”

Glynn shrugged. “I don’t know, but I doubt it is to bring her harm. Sir Paladin, your…protectiveness does you credit. But this is a summons, not a trap. Let me take our…guest to the Anchorite while you meet with the Council.”

Uncertain, Cole looked at Natalie. Overtaxed and paranoid, he didn’t know what to do. Cole was loath to leave Natalie so soon, but keeping the City Council or the Anchorite waiting wasn't good. “It’s up to you, Nat. Whatever you decide.”

Finally asking the question she’d been sitting on for days now, Natalie asked: “What even is an Anchorite?”

Glynn made a strange noise in his throat. Natalie thought it might have been a chuckle. “There is no easy explanation. They are our greatest Priests. Those who prove their faith in the truest way.”

Raising an eyebrow, Natalie asked, “And that would be?”

Glynn smiled, an expression both sad and vicious. “Sacrifice.”

Uncertain and even more confused, Natalie let out a sigh. “Alright, I’ll meet the Anchorite. But I’d like some better answers before then.”

Nodding, Glynn said, “Understandable; follow me and ask your questions.”

Natalie reached out for Cole’s hand and squeezed it. She could see the worry and exhaustion in his blue eyes. In a gentle tone, Natalie whispered. “I’ll be okay. See you later, love.”

He returned her squeeze and tentatively released his lover’s hand. Leaving her to follow Glynn. Natalie had expected to go back the way she’d come, instead Glynn went to the waterfall. Natalie watched as he deftly stepped over the moat in a single broad stride and onto the ledge. Cold water splattered on the Quarter-Elf’s shoulders, but he paid it no mind as he touched the skulls in their alcoves. Glynn’s lips moved, and he traced sigils on the skulls in a quick pattern Natalie couldn’t catch. Stone groaned and the shelved wall sunk into the floor. Revealing a new path.

Seeing no other option, Natalie moved to leap into the waterfall, but Glynn stopped her with a gesture. With the same hand, he made a gesture, and the water froze. The curtain of liquid turned into a pillar that quickly broke off its source and shattered to the ground. Nodding to himself, Glynn beckoned, and Natalie walked across the frozen moat and into the hidden chamber. No sooner had she than the ice behind her thawed and cracked. The waterfall resumed its steady downpour.

Through its curtain, Natalie could see the Keepers and Cole resume their discussion. Turning to Glynn, she said. “Thank you, but I don’t mind getting a little wet. My clothes are already ruined.”

The Eldest Priest made that strange chirping laugh of his. “Oh, you would have. These waters are blessed. They would have stripped your skin clean from you.”

Natalie took a large step back from the waterfall and grimaced. “Holy Water? Isn’t that-”

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“Extraordinarily rare? Yes,” Glynn interrupted her. “It’s not actually that hard to make, but keeping it Holy is difficult. That isn't an issue here in the Temple’s heart.”

The stone door with the skulls ground back into place, and Glynn ignited a ball of blue light in his palm. “You have questions? Ask away, Natalie. I’ll answer what I can.”

The light started to bob downward, and Natalie realized the tunnel led to a staircase. Quickly moving to keep up with Glynn, she asked her first question. “I thought the Elves had different Gods. Why are you a Priest of Master Time?”

Glynn laughed. “I suppose you asking that is a good sign.”

Natalie cocked her head and followed as the stairs came to a landing and down a second flight. Glynn gestured aimlessly. “Young people always ask about my heritage. Their questions are rarely mean-spirited but usually crude. Poking at my past is not something a Vampire would do right away.”

Natalie wilted slightly. “Uh, sorry, I just have never encountered one of your people before.”

Glynn shrugged. “I am only a quarter elf. I’m more human than naught. But your apology is accepted. I know no malice is meant in your words.”

The steps continued down, and Natalie wondered exactly how deep this ‘hermitage’ was. To her surprise, Glynn still answered her question. “My Grandmother was an Elvish sailor shipwrecked on the coast of Lusitania. My Grandfather was the fisherman who saved her. She rarely talks about her homeland and taught her Son, my father, little. He became a merchant and sailed the Central Sea for years. Settling in Vindabon for a time and having me. I grew up here and joined the Temple when my Mother died. That was in… 1315?”

Natalie spluttered, “1315? You’ve been a Priest for more than a century?”

Glynn actually laughed. “I’m still a quarter elf. I’m close to my two hundredth birthday to answer your next question.”

After maybe four stories of descent from the Fane, they came to another large circular stone door. Stepping up to it, Glynn took his hand, the one holding a ball of blue light, and pressed it into the stone. Runes lit up along the stone, and it rolled open. Turning back to Natalie, Glynn spoke. His voice had lost all the deadpan humor of earlier.

“We are here. The Anchorite awaits.”

Natalie frowned. “You never properly answered me. What IS the Anchorite?”

Looking into the dark chamber beyond, Glynn wore a hollow look on his face. “We Priests are limited in how much of a God's power we can channel. We can push those limits through faith, practice, and spiritual growth. But they never fully go away. Neither do situations that require us to go above and beyond our limits. Taking too much of a God into yourself can be damaging. It’s like trying to fit a sea through a copper pipe.”

Glynn held out his hand, and a dozen spheres of blue light escaped his fingers and fled into the Hermitage. Revealing its contents. The chamber was a stepped basin divided into four layers. Descending down to a bubbling pool with a statue at its center. On the second and third tiers were dozens of statues, each of a naked person sitting and facing the pool. Natalie and Glynn stood on the fourth tier, looking down upon the scene.

Pulling out a battered old hourglass amulet, Glynn kissed it and spoke. “Most who go beyond die or are damaged. Their mind, body, or soul splits under the pressure. Sacrificing themselves to create a true Miracle. Others… others are changed. They touch the divine and are altered by it. Reforged and reborn. It is a strange existence they live. Probably closer to yours than my own. Alive yet…not. Blessed while utterly cursed.”

Glynn gestured to the staircase leading down the tiers and towards the central pool. “The Anchorite awaits you, Natalie. They will call me when it is done.”

Natalie hadn’t even realized Glynn hadn’t stepped into the chamber with her. Turning back, she saw the wheel of stone rolling back into place, trapping her inside the Hermitage.

“WAIT! JAG!” she yelled, slamming her fists against the door. It didn’t budge, uncaring even of her undead strength. After banging on it for a few seconds, Natalie hissed a few more oaths and turned back to the staircase. Shrugging, she descended it. Looking at the different statues on the lower tiers. Each was sitting in a chair, bench, or on the cold stone. Their countenances were incredibly varied. Old, young, male, and female, all among their numbers. Natalie had never been interested much in stonework; the Glockmire Quarry had soured her on that idea. She still had to admire the craftsmanship. Each statue was exquisitely carved from a gray-black stone similar to polished granite.

As she reached the bottom, Natalie examined the central pool. Maybe three or four meters across, it was circular and filled with swirling water. Water bubbled from its center, where another statue sat. This one depicted a wiry man clad in a loose robe for modesty. The eyes were shut, and the statue sat with its legs crossed, water up its belly. Looking at the statue, Natalie wondered why this one was clothed, unlike the others. The answer came when the statue opened its eyes.

Spheres of pure darkness looked out at Natalie as the statue turned its head to face her. Its flesh grinding with the movement. Grinding that echoed across the chamber as the other statues moved as well. Natalie leaped back, looking up to see the fifty or so statues staring at her with the same void eyes. More than a little terrified, Natalie looked for an avenue of escape. None appeared, and the central statue opened its mouth with a sound like breaking rock.

“I/We are the Anchorite. I/We Welcome/Invite/Warn Natalie Lilian Striga/Alukah/Monster/Nat/Natty/You.”

The words rang out like a pure note, not in humanoid language but in the true Saint-Speech of the Gods. Part song, part spell, this version of the First Tongue was different from Cole’s halting words. Untrammeled by petty flesh, the statues could speak to Natalie’s soul, and by the Gods did she hear them.

Looking around at the statues, Natalie swallowed uselessly, overwhelmed by the spectral choir she tried to respond. “Uh…Hi.”

“Your Soul/Self/Truth is Marked/Cursed/Blessed. We/I/us see/feel/hear this. Ancient/Young Power/Burden is within you. Our Master/Creator/Destroyer asks/commands we/us aid You/Natalie.”

Trying to process the strange thought/speech of the Anchorite, Natalie asked. “Master Time asked you to help me?”

“Yes/Correct”

That was good news, right? At least the room of living statues wasn’t going to kill or rekill her. Fear gave way to curiosity. Natalie stepped a little closer to the central statue and asked: “You are the Anchorite? All of you?”

“We/us are/once Priests. Soul/Conduits who did wonders/terrors. I/us are/will be broken/transformed by this."

The first speaker, the central Anchorite, spoke alone then, its words stunted without the choir in support. “I…I…I am the youngest, closest to this side of existence. My…my…my kindred are too…too…too far gone. Only able to speak…speak…speak through me. One…One…One day I will join…join…join them. When another takes my…my…my place.”

Forcing herself to look into its empty eyes, Natalie asked: “What does Master Time have for me?”

The choir returned in full terrible force. “Impertinent/Brave/Foolish words. He/God/Master warned us/we about You/Natalie. We/I offer words/warning and a boon.”

As she deciphered the Anchorite Choir’s message, Natalie watched as the Speaker started to move. Flesh and skin of stone cracked and fell away as the Anchorite got up and stepped from its plinth. Water froze under its steps, letting it cross the pool in slow aching paces. Once it reached the edge, it leaned towards Natalie. Its face cracking and falling off like a plaster cast. Revealing a skull made of crystal.

In a voice like grating rock, the Anchorite whispered. “Will you take what is offered?”

Nodding, Natalie started to answer. “Yes, I wi-”

A hand of stone shot out and gripped the back of her neck, hauling her close. Natalie struggled, but the strength in the grip was obscene. It dragged her close to the Anchorite's face. Bone jaws opened, and words fell out “Never forget the banality of Evil.”

Then the Anchorite exhaled, a puff of cold air tickling Natalie’s throat. She felt a stabbing pain as cold seeped into a hidden wound. While her flesh had healed, her soul had not. The Anchorite’s breath clung to where Petar had ripped open her throat. The wound that killed her. Stunned, Natalie stopped fighting and reached up to her throat, to the invisible marks the Anchorite had exposed. Her fingers touched spots of cold where a monster's fangs had ripped her open.

The Anchorite let her go then. Sending Natalie sprawling to the ground. Quickly pulling herself up, she hissed. “I was trying to ask what the boon was! What did you do to me?”

Slowly, the Anchorite stepped back, crossing the pond and returning to its plinth. Natalie watched in mute shock as new stone grew over its face and other broken parts. She could literally see the layers of muscle and skin congeal over the crystal bones like coats of plaster. Slowly returning the Anchorite to its polished statue form. While its mouth still hung open, and true Saint Speech came forth.

“Collared/Bound the Alukah/Annoch and freed You/Natalie.” the choir of Anchorites answered.

Cracking and groaning, the Anchorite pointed at the water. Looking down, Natalie saw her reflection. Aside from the grime and ash of her adventurers, there was one big difference since the last time she’d seen herself. A strange silver mark covered much of her neck. Centered on her left jugular was a spiraling knot maze. Its core, an ornate hourglass sigil, right where Petar’s fangs had bitten her.

Touching the mark, Natalie’s fingers felt unnatural cold. Like they’d brushed steel left in a blizzard, not dead skin. Pulling her digits away, she looked to the Anchorite. “What did you do?”

“Natalie/Nat/You have a role/purpose/truth. The Ocean/Fabric of Time shows many currents/rivers/possibilities. Master/Creator/Destroyer commanded/asked/begged we/I push/pull you in the right/correct/best direction/path/future.”

The eyes of the Anchorite shut then, the dark voids sealed behind granite lids. A gesture repeated a few dozen times by its elder siblings. Leaving Natalie alone in the hermitage. The stone door started to rumble, rolling open at some unseen cue. Glynn entered the chamber and looked down at Natalie.

A flicker of pique shone in Natalie upon seeing the Keeper. She went to the steps and climbed to meet him. “You could have warned me before locking me in with a bunch of haunted statues!” she snapped.

Glynn’s pale lips formed a slightly too-perfect line. “They are not haunted. The Anchorites are transformed body, mind, and soul by what they’ve done.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at the Priest. To his credit, Glynn did bow slightly in apology. “I am sorry for tricking you like that. The Anchorite wished to speak to you alone. I did not know how they or you would react… considering your nature. So I acted rashly and overstepped.”

Frowning, Natalie asked. “Weren’t you afraid I’d damage them?”

Glynn blinked slowly, like an unamused Cat: “No, I was not.”

Something told Natalie that statement had less to do with trust for her and more to do with the Anchorite’s power. Glancing back at the statues, Natalie wondered what more they could do? The gesture exposed her neck to Glynn, who shot out a hand and gripped Natalie’s. She turned back to see a wide-eyed Glynn staring at her throat.

“That stigma…the Maze of Moments,” he rasped.

Natalie broke his grip and touched the mark, its icy power a jolt to her nerves. “The Anchorite gave it to me. What does it mean?”

Glynn looked at his hand like he hadn’t even noticed he’d grabbed her. “Stigmata are rare things. Signs of protection placed on the worthy. Each contains a Miracle and a Message.”

Glynn let out that strange melodic laugh of his. “I owe the Paladin an apology. He was right about you, and we were too stubborn to realize.”

Frowning, Natalie asked. “A miracle and a message?”

The Hierophant nodded. “The pattern is the message. The Maze of Moments is rare; I’ve only seen it in ancient texts. If I remember correctly, it has something to do with choices and their complexity.”

Brushing off his uncertainty, he added. “I’ll check the archives. As for the Miracle… It’s different for each recipient. Only activating under certain conditions. Don’t ask me for more detail. Information on that is incredibly sparse.”

Digesting this, Natalie thought on the Anchorite's words. They claimed to collar the Alukah and free her. Was this miracle supposed to do that? Sighing to herself, Natalie wished dawn would come soon. She wanted to rest and be done with this insane night.

To that end she looked to Glynn and asked. “Can I return to my quarters now? Or is there anything else?”

The elfblood Hierophant seemed a little surprised but still nodded. “I suppose even you can become tired. It’s been a long night for us all. Come, come, I’ll escort you to the Fane’s entrance.”

Glynn did as such, taking Natalie out from the Hermitage, back to the now empty Fane and to the Temple proper. At the huge stone door, the Keeper said. “You bear many heavy burdens Ms. Natalie. I do not envy you. But I wish you the best and will gladly offer my aid if you need it.”

More than a little surprised by this, Natalie murmured some appreciative noises and left him. Heading back to the diplomat’s apartment, she and Cole shared. Natalie wondered at Glynn’s shift in attitude. Was this ‘stigma’ really that important? Resisting the urge to touch it, Natalie made her way through dimly lit hallways. Avoiding the few people she heard moving nearby. She didn’t have it in her to deal with more scared people tonight.

Reaching the apartment door, Natalie slipped inside. To her disappointment Cole wasn’t back yet from his own meeting. But someone had left a package on the small dining table. Going over to it, Natallie found five books stacked on top of each other. A note in a messy hand atop the stack.

“I heard you returned. Thanks for keeping your word. Have some better reading material. - Mina”

Smiling, Natalie went to the bed and sat down. Looking at her clothes, she grimaced. They were intact, but not much more than that. She was also filthy. The ash of her injuries clung to her in a grimy coat. Forcing herself to get up, Natalie went to the washroom and stripped. She turned on the faucet, letting the cold water fill a wash pail. Without ceremony, she dumped the frigid contents of the bucket over her head. Another perk of undeath she’d discovered was not needing to wait for warm water. Sure it felt better to use hot water, but cold water wasn’t a painful shock to her.

Repeating this crude shower thrice, Natalie offered silent thanks to the genius who’d invented indoor plumbing. Drying off, Natalie left her dirty clothes in a messy pile she’d regret later. Returning to the bed, she slipped under the covers and let out a low moan at their softness. No sooner had she than the hammerblow of dawn hit her. As her consciousness faded, Natalie whispered.

“Oh, thank the Gods.”

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