Just then, Father Simon stepped out of the nave, and I immediately followed.
"Father Simon!" I called, half-running to catch up as Sister Dorathy stood behind.
He turned at the sound of my voice, a gentle smile lighting his face. "Princess Elowen," he greeted softly. A moment ago, he had seemed in a great hurry, yet now, speaking to me, his tone slowed, warm and unhurried, as though the world itself could wait.
"Bishop Caelum told me you were the only one present in the castle when I was brought here," I began.
He inclined his head. "Yes," he confirmed simply. "Gideon and I." He added
Gideon__the young acolyte who shadowed him everywhere like an eager apprentice, arrived just then, stepping out from the nave. He bowed briefly to me, then leaned toward Father Simon and whispered something low. Simon only nodded in response, his expression unchanged.
I could tell it had to do with the meeting the priests were meant to attend after the mass. Realizing time was slipping, I realized I had to be quick.
"Who brought me here that night?" I asked.
For a moment, he didn't speak. His brows drew together, like he was searching his memory__ or maybe wondering why I was asking at all.
"You were brought here by a knight," he replied at last.
"What kind of knight?" I asked, almost before he finished.
His eyes narrowed slightly__not in suspicion, but in thought, as thou he was not sure about my sudden question
"Was it a sanctum knight?" I pressed, my heartbeat quickening.
At that, a faint smile curved his lips. "The Sanctum Knights were dispatched to the capital that night. Of course, it was one who saved you."
"Who?" I asked quickly. "What did he look like? His eyes, were they pitch black? And his hair, did he have a rope tied around it? A red rope, right here__" I gestured to the front of my hair, the faint image still in my mind.
I watched his face closely, my heart racing with hope.
Father Simon's expression shifted. He looked at me for a moment before finally replying.
"It seems your memory of that night has returned," Father Simon said with a calm smile. "You speak with such detail… yet this morning, you couldn't even recall where you were."
Well… actually, I had remembered everything this morning I just didn't believe it or... To be specific, draw any unecessary attention . So, naturally, I told them I remembered nothing. A little holy deception never hurt anyone, right? But now it seemed my luck, and my lies, had run out. My eyes darted nervously, trying to come up with something clever and innocent-sounding.
"Did you really see a Sanctum knight who looked like a demon?" he asked, tilting his head with quiet curiosity. "What else do you remember, Princess?"
I Blinked. I bag your pardoned?
How can the table just flip so fast? Wasn't I the one supposed to be asking the questions here? and now here I was, the one being questioned
I sighed inwardly Of course. Typical of priests here, turning every question back on me.
Thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of Sister Dorathy.
"Father Simon," she called gently, gesturing toward the courtyard where two acolytes stood, each holding a burning torch. "They are waiting for you." she added
Then she turned to me, placing a soft, guiding hand on my arm.
"Her Highness may see you again tomorrow, if you're not too occupied," Sister Dorathy said, her voice calm yet deliberate.
Father Simon nodded his head slightly. "A fair suggestion," he said, then turned to me. "Princess Elowen, come to me at noon if you wish. I shall be far less burdened then, would that be suitable?"
"That would be fine," I replied softly.
He offered a small, reassuring smile before turning away with Gideon close behind. The young acolyte glanced back at me for the briefest moment__his eyes said more than his lips ever could.
"Come along, Princess," Sister Dorathy said, snapping me gently from my thoughts.
I followed her quietly down the corridor, my steps echoing in the silence. But even as we walked, my mind lingered on that look Gideon gave me__it was the sort of look that meant there was more to the story than anyone was willing to say.
That evening, I couldn't shake Father Simon's sermon from my mind__faith.
Faith, something I'd long lost. The more I tried to hold on to belief, the more it slipped away.
---
When we returned to my dormitory, supper was served__a bowl of thin porridge. I stared at it for a long moment, half expecting someone to come along with something more... bread, fruit, anything, but no one did. I couldn't recall the last time I'd eaten something so... plain. Even when I was ill in the palace, I never had to settle for this.
That's when it hit me__the poverty of this place. The cathedral, though grand on the outside, offered little comfort within. The walls were cold stone, the kind that swallowed warmth, and my chamber could barely hold a single bed and a stool. The blanket they'd given me was thin, scratchy, and smelled faintly of old wax and rain, no scented oils, no soft glow of chandeliers, only the dim flame of a lone candle. A far cry from the silks and furs I once slept beneath.
I sat there for a while, spoon in hand, the porridge cooling as I stared at the candle's flicker on the wall. For the first time, I truly felt how far I was from the life I'd known, how small and quiet my world had suddenly become.
After finishing the porridge, I set the bowl aside and turned to Sister Dorathy.
"Could you have my bath drawn?" I asked, almost as a reflex.
She blinked at me, as though I'd just requested a ballroom orchestra. "Your bath, Your Highness?"
"Yes," I said, puzzled by her tone. "You know… water, a tub, perhaps some lavender if there's any."
Her lips curved faintly, not in amusement, but pity. "We do not keep such luxuries here, Princess. Water is fetched from the village well, it serves many and we use only when needful. To fill a bath would take more than most families see in a week."
It took me a moment to absorb that. "So…" I hesitated, "no bath tonight?"
"I'm afraid not," she said softly. "You've already had one this morning, and that is as much as we may spare."
I nodded slowly, trying not to look as horrified as I felt. Back in the palace, I bathed twice a day, sometimes three if the weather displeased me. Now here I was, about to sleep unwashed for the first time in my life.
"Well then," I managed, smoothing the folds of my robe, "perhaps I might at least have my hair washed and combed. If I go to bed with it as it is, we'll need a miracle to undo it by morning."
That, at least, she granted. A small basin of warm water was fetched, steam curling faintly into the cold air. I sat upon the stone floor as Sister Dorathy untied my braids and began to work her fingers through the heavy curls. The strands clung together__thick, springy, and stubborn. Each stroke of the comb made a faint crack sound, the sound of strands surrendering one by one.
"Victoria was always gentler," I murmured, half to myself. "She'd oil it first, before brushing, then scold me for moving too much."
Dorathy gave a soft laugh. "We have no oils here, my lady, but I shall do my best all the same."
And she did__patiently, with quiet care, though I could tell the strength of my hair made her fingers sore.
As Sister Dorathy worked, my thoughts drifted back to the mass, before the closing hymn, Father Simon had spoken of the Three Kingdoms, and everyone bowed their heads to pray for them.
It had brought tears to my eyes then, just as it does now.
I blinked quickly, brushing them away before they could fall, and exhaled a trembling breath.
"What troubles you, Princess?" Sister Dorathy asked softly, a thread of concern in her voice.
"Everything," I murmured. The word came out smaller than I intended.
She sighed quietly, as though she already understood my worry.
"Tell me," I went on after a pause, "how do you think Brebreth and Genevieve are faring? If their kingdoms have fallen, then something must have happened to them… right?"
Her eyes lowered. "Possibly, yes," she said at last. "But you must remember, they are chosen, as you are. The Lord's grace does not abandon its own. If hope lives anywhere, it lives with them."
I nodded faintly, clinging to her words, willing to believe anything that sounded like mercy.
She gathered the last of my curls, tying them with care before wrapping a soft scarf around my head. Then she rose, smoothing her apron.
"You should rest now, Your Highness. Tomorrow will be long, and morning waits for no crown," she said with a gentle smile and a small bow before turning to leave.
Now standing alone, the room had gone utterly still. I could almost hear the rhythm of my own heartbeat__steady, uncertain, echoing faintly through the silence.
I walked slowly to the small bed and sat upon it, the thin blanket rustling beneath me. As I lowered myself to lie down, suddenly i felt a sting through my wrist__sharp and cruel enough to make me jolt upright with a gasp.
"Hhh—!" I sucked in a breath, clutching my arm. Even in the dim candlelight, I could see it, the mark upon my wrist glowing a deep, furious red.
Then came another wave.
"Argh!" I groaned, collapsing to the cold floorboards as the pain twisted deeper, searing through my flesh and bone. My fingers curled tightly, trembling as if an unseen hand were crushing them.
What is happening to me?
I tried to steady my breathing, but the agony worstened like fire beneath my skin. My wrist burned hotter. The air itself seemed heavier, sweat gushing down on me until it felt as though I were drowning.
Another surge hit, stronger than before. My vision blurred. I gasped, biting my lip to stop a scream from escaping. The candle beside the bed flickered violently, as if reacting to the unseen force, and my shadow danced madly across the stone wall room as i Struggled in pain.
Hours slipped by in fragments of pain and shivering exhaustion. Each time I thought it would fade, it returned sharper, crueler.
I didn't know how long it lasted but the night felt endless.
---
By morning, Father Amos was in my chamber with two of his young apprentices. The scent of herbs and ointment filled the air as he carefully cleaned the wound on my wrist. I flinched when the cool balm touched my skin.
"It must have hurt a great deal," he said quietly, frowning at the faint scratch marks__ones I hadn't realized I'd left on myself in the midst of the night's pain.
"You should have called out for help," he added, voice gentle but edged with concern.
"I could hardly grasp what was happening," I muttered, my tone slipping somewhere between sulking and disbelief. "Do you truly think I had the time to go looking for help?"
He chuckled softly under his breath. "You have a point, Your Highness."
I sighed, watching the faint red glow beneath the ointment fade little by little. "If only I was let to return home it wouldnt have been this bad" i said "Back in the castle, a mere sigh from me would summon half the court,But here… no one even stirs."
Father Amos looked up at me. "Perhaps, Princess, that is how the Lord teaches us strength__when no one comes, we find a way ourselves."
I gave a small, weary smile. "Or perhaps it's just terrible hospitality." i added
One of the apprentices snorted before catching himself and quickly bowed. Father Amos just let out a sigh with a knowing smile but said nothing.
---
The rest of the day passed like the one before.
Prayers. Lessons. Silence.
There wasn't much to do here, really. The nuns always seemed too busy, the priests too serious, and I… well, I was mostly left to my thoughts.
The only part of my day that truly brought me comfort was my newest favorite spot__the Sanctum Tower, where I could look down at the courtyard and watch the knights train.
The air there was always alive with sound, wooden blades striking, boots thudding against the dirt, and sharp commands echoing off the walls. I leaned against the railing, watching as the younger knights mimicked their instructor's movements.
A few of them noticed me and immediately tried not to. I could tell they weren't sure whether to bow or pretend they hadn't seen me. One bold recruit made the mistake of glancing up too long, just as his opponent's strike knocked the sword clean from his hand.
Sir Calen, the commander, sighed deeply and folded his arms. "Keep your eyes on your opponent," he said dryly, "not your future queen."
A ripple of laughter moved through the group. I pressed my lips together, trying to hide my smile.
Then Sir Calen turned to me and bowed, and instantly the rest followed, their heads lowered in perfect discipline. The sudden attention made me straighten instinctively.
"Please," I said softly, almost embarrassed, "carry on." i added with a gentle smile.
They did, but not without sneaking the occasional glance upward.
As I watched the knights train, a sudden chill crept over me. It wasn't from the wind, no, this was different. A heaviness settled in my chest, and for a moment, the sounds of clashing swords seemed to fade into the distance.
My eyes darted about the courtyard, scanning faces and corners, searching for… something. Everyone was busy, moving, training, talking, yet I could feel it. That weight of being watched.
I don't know how I got so good at this, but I think I've learned to tell the difference between a person's presence and that of an entity. And right now, I could swear whoever was watching me wasn't a person. It was… something else.
I turned my head, scanning around. That same heavy feeling from the chapel yesterday came rushing back, pressing against my chest.
Then I saw it
Behind a tree in the woods, just across the arch bridge__the very path where the paladin knight had gone through__stood a dark figure. It was the same one from yesterday.
It didn't move. It just stood there, half-hidden by the tree, staring… waiting.
''What… or who is this?' I wondered, my heart thudding. 'What does it want from me? And why does it keep showing up wherever I am? How can something like that even exist inside a church? I thought this place was supposed to be safe…'
The thought sank deep. Maybe I wasn't safe here after all. Maybe the church wasn't the shield I'd been told it was.
Curiosity is a sin, they say, but so is ignorance.
I started walking.
Eyes fixed on the figure, I moved through the stone corridor, past racks of spears and old shields. Eventually, I stopped before a tall iron gate carved with the Sigil of the Twelve.
Only then did I realize, before one even reached the bridge, there was a gate one had to pass first.
And beyond it… something waited.