Isabelle spun her sword in smooth, sweeping arcs, each movement slicing the air. Bolts of lightning flared from the blade, dancing with every strike.

  She could have trained in one of the indoor halls, where the heat was less oppressive, but today she wanted the open sky. The yard behind the church was quiet, a patch of solitude where the world fell away. A lone Sunveil tree stretched its tall crown above her, its shade softening the blaze of the sun. The short-cut grass made a gentle carpet beneath her boots.

  Here, away from the voices and the weight of duty, she tried to steady herself. In Ebonshade she had nearly unraveled, her faith shaken, her loyalties tangled. Even Orbisar, Uriela, the Church, and her own resolve had felt like strangers to her.

  The new levels of auric power she had gained after her clash with Elias had opened doors to techniques she had never touched before. She had to learn them quickly; Orbisar’s trials could fall upon her at any moment.

  This one was something Master Varom had once demonstrated, back when she was still a Novice. At the time, she had blurted out that she would never reach the power required to use it. The punishment that followed had been harsh, a lesson carved deep: a disciple of Orbisar was never to doubt her own potential. Especially not one trained by Varom.

  Now, at last, she stood at the threshold. Varom had been right. He was always right.

  If she succeeded, lightning would surge around her body, forming a volatile barrier that detonated on the slightest contact, hurling bolts in every direction. A skill like that would have saved her when the dead closed in at Ebonshade.

  Her muscles burned, begging for rest, but she refused to yield. Time was too precious to waste. Soon Garath’s investigations would demand her presence, and the threat of war with the tribes would swallow what little freedom remained. Skipped training sessions were inevitable.

  She drove the blade through another arc. A shell of lightning burst around her, then sputtered out in a shower of harmless sparks, gone as quickly as it had come.

  The Warden halted, chest heaving, sweat streaking down her face.

  She forced herself to recall Varom’s exact words, the instructions etched into her memory. Yet each time her eyes closed, Derek’s face cut across the vision. His voice, sharp and unyielding. The last words they had exchanged. The look in his eyes—more disdain than anger—for what she had done.

  Entrusting the sphere of Death to Alyra had saved them all. It had been the only choice. And still, Derek had acted as if he would rather have died than see the girl’s life put at risk.

  Maybe that was the truth of it. Derek Steele didn’t want saving.

  A faint scuff of footsteps behind her broke the thought. She turned.

  High Priestess Uriela Valen stood beneath the towering Sunveil tree. Its golden canopy caught the light, cloaking her in a glow that blurred the line between divine and mortal. Her piercing blue eyes carried their usual weight, cutting straight through pretense, leaving no space to hide.

  “I was looking for you, child.” Uriela’s voice was calm, measured, as if every syllable had been chosen with care.

  Isabelle slid her sword back into its sheath and wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. It had been a long time since Uriela had called her that. She’d almost believed the High Priestess had abandoned the word altogether.

  “Did you need me? I was training.”

  Uriela inclined her head. “So I see. Yet the fact that you’ve hidden yourself here tells me something weighs on you.”

  Isabelle’s mouth tightened into a grimace. She wasn’t ready to speak of what had happened, least of all what had shifted inside her. And certainly not to the High Priestess. “In Ebonshade, things were… complicated. Father Elias was…” She faltered, searching for words that wouldn’t sound like blasphemy.

  Uriela raised a hand. “I read your report. There’s no need to explain. It was, as always, thorough.” Her eyebrow arched. “Your attempt to save Father Elias was admirable, but also rather reckless.”

  Isabelle stiffened. Even Sierelith—that heretic spy—had hurled the same charge, though with venom rather than concern. Perhaps it truly had been foolish. And yet, reaching for Elias, searching for a fragment of the priest he had once been, had felt like the only path left to her.

  The High Priestess exhaled, the sound heavy with disappointment. “The Isabelle I know would never have done that. She would have struck him down without hesitation, in the name of Orbisar’s justice.”

  Isabelle’s brow furrowed. “The Isabelle you know?”

  Uriela inclined her head. “I am concerned. The Cashnar’s company… I question how much good it does you. The weight he places on your shoulders would tax even a seasoned Warden, let alone one so young.”

  Her heart lurched. Was Uriela trying to strip her of the duty of accompanying Derek? Being assigned to the Cashnar was the greatest honor of her life, and she had poured everything into it. Had Derek complained after their last argument?

  Her fists tightened. No. He would never go to Uriela, if only because he didn’t trust her, or anyone she might choose to take Isabelle’s place.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She drew a steadying breath. “I’m fine. What happened shook me, yes, but it had nothing to do with Derek. Seeing Elias—a man I once admired—reduced to that state… it unsettled me more than I expected. And that clouded my judgment.” She dipped her head in brief submission. “It won’t happen again.”

  Uriela’s face stayed unreadable. “You spoke to him. Everyone knows one must never speak to a man possessed by evil, even if he once wore the robes of a priest like Elias. Power unbound scours away the last shred of humanity. To reach for it only drags you down the same path to ruin.” Her brow lifted. “Surely a Warden does not need such things explained.”

  Isabelle bowed lower. “You are right. The lesson was harsh, but it won’t be forgotten.”

  Uriela inclined her head. “For your sake, I hope not.”

  Isabelle drew in a deep breath, bracing herself. She had postponed this as long as possible, excised it from her report, but the truth could not remain hidden. Better that it come from her lips than someone else’s. “There’s something I didn’t include in the report. Something important.”

  Uriela’s gaze never wavered. “I assume this concerns the Death sphere.”

  She nodded. Of course Uriela had guessed. If it was serious enough to leave out, it could only be about that sphere.

  “Do you know where it is?” Uriela asked. “I read that Elias had confiscated it from the cult, but it wasn’t delivered to Rothmere along with the Life Sphere.”

  “The Cashnar… had to absorb its power into his armor. It was the only way to stop the undead golem the cult unleashed on us. He used that power to bring it down.”

  Uriela’s eyes widened, the whites stark against the deep blue of her irises.

  Isabelle shifted, unease tightening her stance. “The Death Cult meant to unleash the golem’s power on Rothmere. It was… unstoppable. Only the Death sphere could bring it down.”

  “A Death sphere was absorbed by the Cashnar?”

  Her jaw tightened. Better to lay it bare and face what came. “It was a Bronze-rank sphere, High Priestess.”

  Uriela’s lips parted in shock. “The destructive potential of such a sphere is an enormous threat to the city. And it violates the very laws Orbisar decreed.”

  “I understand that, High Priestess. But those laws bind us. He is the Messiah of Steel. His armor contained the power, shaped it into a weapon that saved us. Just like—”

  “Just like the prophecy said…” Uriela cut in softly. “The Cashnar would use death to defeat death,” she recited.

  Isabelle gave a firm nod. “I didn’t see it at the time, but later I remembered the prophecy. What happened aligns with that passage in the Scriptures exactly.”

  Uriela’s tone cooled. “That passage is vague at best, and always open to interpretation. It never spoke of a Bronze-rank Death sphere.”

  Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “And yet the signs confirming he is the Cashnar grow by the day. I wonder what the Council will think.”

  Her gaze lingered on Uriela. And what did she think?

  Uriela lifted her chin slightly. “That man is a loose cannon, child. He has only just arrived in our world, and already his armor has absorbed the power of a bronze-rank sphere. A Death sphere, no less.”

  The Warden lowered her gaze. And Uriela didn’t even know it wasn’t the first bronze-rank sphere he had taken.

  The High Priestess’s brow furrowed. “You saw what he did when the Council met?”

  Isabelle’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with Uriela’s. “And what did you do that same day?”

  Uriela’s voice cooled. “What are you implying?”

  “You brought the container to the meeting and opened it in front of everyone. You knew it didn’t hold the sphere you’d sent him to recover.”

  Uriela stared, lips parting in surprise. “You have never spoken to me in that tone, child.”

  Isabelle forced down the lump in her throat. It was true, but the words could no longer be held back. They had gnawed at her since Ebonshade, the seed of doubt that had cracked her faith when she needed it most. “If you knew the sphere wasn’t in the container, why not ask him in private?”

  Heat burned across her cheeks, but she held her ground. “What was the point of exposing Derek before the Council, if not to strike him down in their eyes? Until it is proven beyond all doubt that he is not the Cashnar, our duty is to defend him.”

  Uriela lowered her gaze at last. “Derek, huh?”

  Her stomach knotted. She’d said his name instead of his title. Cashnar. She bit her tongue.

  The High Priestess shook her head slowly. “Your bond with that man is changing you, exactly as I warned from the start.”

  Heat rushed to Isabelle’s face, and her hand found the hilt of her sword. “It’s your actions that confuse me. He’s the Cashnar. You’re the High Priestess. Sun and sky, why can’t you work together? Why do you keep trying to undermine him?”

  Uriela pressed a hand to her chest, eyes widening. “Undermine him? That man has insulted me, Orbisar, and everyone who has crossed his path since the day he arrived. The man who dared to insult the entire Council during an official session? And you think I am the one damaging him? Your vision of things is far cloudier than I feared. Tell me, how can such a man represent our Church?”

  Isabelle’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. Maybe his task wasn’t to represent the Church at all, but to heal it.

  The thought pressed down on her chest like a weight, her throat tightening around it—a notion so close to heresy, so close to betrayal, that it left her breathless.

  The Warden swallowed hard. “You are right, maybe he can’t. But since I’ve known him, that same man you despise so much has saved the lives of everyone who’s crossed his path. More than once. People he didn’t even know. People to whom he owed nothing, and from whom he could never have asked anything in return. He has even lost the trust he once placed in me, simply because I risked my life—and Alyra’s—to save him.”

  Uriela’s expression shifted. Her posture eased, but her eyes narrowed, one brow arching. “He… doesn’t trust you? He told you that himself?”

  Isabelle nodded, eyes lowered. “He doesn’t want anyone sacrificing themselves for him, especially not because he’s the Cashnar. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for doing it.”

  Uriela’s gaze softened. “You see, then? He is unfit for that role. For a Warden, giving her life to save the Messiah would be a tremendous honor, perhaps the greatest of all. And he cannot understand that. How can such a man be our Cashnar?”

  Isabelle’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “On that point, Mother, I can’t argue with you.”

  Uriela sighed. “Don’t let his behavior influence you. Yes, it’s true he has fulfilled several prophecies so far. But what are they? Jungle monkeys? An armor he might have engineered himself? He has yet to fulfill the prophecies that truly matter.”

  “Nor do we expect him to have done so already,” the Warden replied.

  The Priestess stepped closer, her voice dropping. “We don’t know who he really is or where he comes from. All we know is what he’s chosen to tell us.”

  “Yes, Mother, I’m aware of that.”

  Uriela searched her eyes, probing for something unspoken. “Then why do I sense you trust him more than you trust me? What is it about him that makes him so worthy of your loyalty?”

  Isabelle lowered her gaze. The answer to that question weighed heavier on her heart than she had imagined. Keeping it inside brought no relief. The weight had to be cast off. “It isn’t what he has done. It’s what you are doing, Mother. That’s what pushes me toward him, against my will.”

  Uriela shook her head. “I don’t understand what you mean, I—”

  “This war,” Isabelle cut in. “Why the rush to attack the peaceful tribes of the jungle? Just because one tribesman was proven to be behind the attack on the Cashnar, you condemn them all?”

  Uriela held her gaze, silent.

  Isabelle drew in a breath and lowered her eyes again. “I call you ‘Mother’ because you cared for me after my real mother died. And because that’s how I see you. But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to what’s happening. To what you’re doing.”

  The Priestess stiffened. “What I am doing is for the supreme good of the Church and for the faith in Orbisar. Do you dare question my good faith? How far have you strayed from me, child? Or perhaps I should call you only by your title now, Warden.”

  She spoke the word with all the coldness she could summon.

  It pierced Isabelle to the bone. She started to reply, but Uriela raised a hand, silencing her.

  “Follow this false Messiah if that is what you believe you must do. But do not expect me to do the same.” She turned and walked away without a backward glance.

  Isabelle lingered, watching her slender yet imposing figure recede.

  Derek had warned her. He had told her Uriela was beginning to doubt her loyalty. Told her to keep her distance from him before her bond with Uriela—and her future in the Church—suffered for it.

  Perhaps it was already too late to turn back. Too late with Uriela, with Derek, with the life that seemed to crumble beneath her feet.

  All that remained to her was the power Orbisar had granted, still coursing through her veins.

  Slowly, Isabelle drew her sword in a fluid motion and settled into a ready stance. She opened her chakras, channeling energy into the blade.

  A swarm of lightning charges crackled along the steel, alive and restless.

  If the conflict between Derek and Uriela ever became a true war… whose side would she stand on?

  She spun her sword, scattering the charges into a sphere around her. The crackling threads wove together into a tangled knot of light that wrapped her in its glow.

  Some things weren’t meant to be bound. The harder you tried to hold them, the sharper the strain became.

  And strain always led to breaking.

  The charges burst outward all at once, a blinding shockwave of lightning that tore through the air in every direction.