Eira caught the rolled-up piece of paper and read its message. She looked at Inalia. “We’re expected at the high chancellor’s residence after we show them the temple,” she said, then glanced at us. “You’re all coming, too.”
“Is that a good thing?” Herakles asked. “Most importantly—”
“Please, don’t ask them if they have food,” Raphael cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“No, you tart. I wanted to know if the high chancellor would accept our request to see their Hermessi worship records.”
Inalia looked like she was tempted to laugh, but there was something about this summons that didn’t sit well with her. “I hope so,” she replied. “It would be better if I made the request to the high chancellor directly. It would spare me the hassle of going through the ordinary channels.”
We entered the temple’s garden. My olfactory sense was bombarded by an explosion of sweet floral scents. I could easily imagine some incredible fragrances coming out of the bright orange blossoms growing in this place.
“The temple hasn’t been used in a long time,” Inalia added, changing the subject. “The last time there was a Hermessi worship ritual here was about three centuries ago. It’s been a cultural landmark since. Cerixians from other parts of the Rose Domain and from the other neighboring domains often come by to visit. It’s a beautiful construction. One of our oldest still standing, in fact.”
The entrance was wide open—two massive white marble doors on multiple brass hinges, pushed inward. Lights flickered in the darkness beyond. Candles. Hundreds of them. We went in, and I was immediately stunned by a sense of sheer awe. The ceiling was ridiculously high and hand-painted with mythological scenes. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the multiple representations of the Fire Hermessi, always pictured as a flaming Cerixian, surrounded by his adoring congregation.
The walls were covered in white marble friezes with various scenes that resembled what had already been depicted on the ceiling. Two rows of columns dashed from front to back, in order to support the heavy roof. Benches were lined like in an auditorium, and, at the far end, a wide podium had been erected from the same perfectly polished slabs of white marble. On it, a shrine reigned, covered in red silk and loaded with gold statuettes and Fire Hermessi totems. Candles burned everywhere—in wall-mounted sconces and from the ginormous brass chandeliers hung from above.
“At the risk of repeating myself, this is beautiful!” Amelia exclaimed.
“It is. It’s a shame the Hermessi drove people to do such horrible things,” Inalia replied. She seemed sad.
“You don’t agree with worship of the elements,” Taeral concluded.
“I accept it as a part of who we are, as a people,” Inalia said. “But I don’t have to like it. It did more harm than good, if you ask me. I’ll take the little bits of swamp witch magic we were gifted over the Hermessi any time.”
“The irony is blistering, to say the least,” Eira muttered, leaning against one of the pillars.
“Puh-lease! Spare me!” Inalia shot back.
“What’s this about?” Taeral asked.
Inalia stilled, her lips pressed into a tight, straight line.
“Nothing. Ancient history, so to speak,” Eira replied.
I almost didn’t hear the swish until the ball of fire flew past us and exploded into the shrine. Flames erupted as all the objects tumbled to the floor with ear-bleeding clangs. We instantly backed away and turned around.
More fire projectiles were hurled at us.
For a moment, I’d thought the four soldiers had decided to try and kill us. But no. This was much worse and downright infuriating.
Ten masked hostiles stood in the temple’s doorway, clad in black silk and wearing porcelain masks that covered their faces. Fireballs bloomed in the palms of their hands.
“Oh, come on!” Varga moaned.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Herakles spat.
We drew our weapons as the soldiers spun and fired their guns. The hostiles scattered and threw another round of blazing balls at us. It seemed as though our moment of clarity and respite had come to an end. Cultists had found us here, too, and they were determined to end us.
Well, they were in for an unpleasant surprise, then, because I sure as hell had no intention of dying on some planet on the edge of the In-Between. Hell no. We’d come too far.
Taeral
“How are they wielding fire like this?!” Raphael asked.
His wings exploded behind his back. One of them stretched around and blocked a flurry of fireballs from hitting him directly. Riza zapped herself around the temple until she got close enough to slash at one of the hostiles. She got his side. He yelped from the pain as blood sprayed out. She didn’t wait for him to hit back. Instead, she drove her sword into his chest and took him down.
Herakles took on two attackers at once, darting left and right with his two short swords out. As soon as he shortened the distance between them and himself, he started swinging.
Varga ducked, then syphoned off his opponent—enough to bring him down to his knees, screaming in agony. A sentry could cripple the enemy in combat just by syphoning. Granted, it didn’t work on everyone as well as it did on this guy, but we were still thankful it did.
Eva and Amelia took on some of the other attackers, while Eira tried to get her soldiers out of the line of fire. One was already dead, and two were critically injured, covered in severe burns. Only one was left standing, and she relied on him to drag the other two to safety.
Inalia hid behind one of the columns, and I felt compelled to protect her as two insurgents ran across the temple’s grand hall, headed straight for her. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could clearly observe their use of fire—in one hand, they generated flames without an existing source. In the other, they held arched blades, sharp and thirsty for our blood. They moved fast, light on their feet. They’d done this before, that much was obvious from the way they handled themselves.
“Are these fire fae?” Eva managed to ask me as she dodged a fireball.
“I don’t know!” I shot back, then teleported myself behind one of the assailants headed toward Inalia. He wasn’t prepared for this. With one hand, I grabbed him by the top of his hood—I’d caught the hair underneath, too—and pulled his head back. With the other hand, I slit his throat. He choked as blood gurgled out in crimson streams. He collapsed, while the second attacker came at me, temporarily distracted away from Inalia.
“If they’re fae, how the heck did they get here?” Varga shouted, clearly frustrated.
That was a good question to ask. According to Inalia and our Druid Archives, Cerix was practically undiscovered. How could any fae reach this place without GASP or at least the fae planets learning about it? It seemed impossible—or incredibly secretive, which would’ve then led to more questions. And none of them put my people in a favorable light.
I took my remaining opponent down, then turned around to find Inalia under attack. She cried out as she dropped to her knees. A blade missed her head by inches. One of the assailants had managed to get too close.
Without hesitation, I rushed back to help her, but her hands lit up orange just as the guy swung his sword down at her. Flames erupted from her glowing palms. The fire exploded outward with incredible strength. It burned her attacker to a crisp, in a terrifying instant. Nothing was left of him, except the charred husk that barely resembled a humanoid.
I froze. Inalia was quiet, her eyes wide with shock.
