Page 64 of Daughter of the Serpent

Sylvie hesitated, the question lodging itself in her mind like a thorn.

She had spent so much time thinking about the trials, what was to come, that she hadn’t thought about what would happen next - if she should fall.

What would she leave behind?

Would her existence have meant anything?

She knew without doubt that there would be more than enough to celebrate her death, rather than mourn it.

Godvick’s face flickered in her thoughts, followed by Haldor, Tara, then her mother’s distant smile.

Would their hearts ache if she was taken to Hallva’s halls, or would her memory fade, forgotten like a shadow slipping into the night?

Did she truly matter to them - or had she only been a burden they silently bore?

Her eyes lifted, scanning the room around them.

A young woman whimpered softly in her sleep, her face etched with pain. A man nearby shifted restlessly, his bandaged leg stretched at an awkward angle, his teeth clenched to suppress a cry. Bodies broken, bruised, bloodied whether from yesterday's rune casting, orfrom the grueling training the temple put them through to test their worth -for what?Sylvie wondered bitterly.

What purpose did their suffering serve?

Were these lives - fragile, fleeting - mere sacrifices for the temple? Pledges of loyalty to gods who seemed deaf to their agony? Did the gods even care, or were they all pawns in a game played beyond mortal understanding?

Her gaze landed back on Thyra, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her young eyes staring back at her intently.

Her chest tightened.

How could it be fair that someone like her might be wasted, discarded, deemed unworthy simply because she didn’t meet their expectations?

A flicker of anger sparked deep within her, rising to her belly with the injustice.

Would any of them be remembered for their plight, their sacrifices?

“I should return to my duties,” she said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Rest, and - ”

“I’ve been looking for you.” A voice, deep and rich, interrupted her.

Despite their abruptness, the words wove around her like a warm blanket, wrapping her in a welcome familiarity that instantly drew comfort.

“I should have figured you’d be here.”

Haldor’s ice - blue gaze met hers for a moment before they flickered to Thyra, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. “It’s good to see you alive and well, Thyra.”

A soft pink rose to Thyra’s skin, her eyes nervously flashing between Sylvie and Haldor. “I heard you were the one who carried me all the way here. You have my thanks.”

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her blanket.

Haldor leaned in slightly, his voice rich with amusement. “It was nothing.” He let the words hang in the air a moment longer before adding, “Though, I do expect some form of compensation. Astatue in my honor, perhaps? Or at the very least, your undying devotion.”

Thyra’s laugh rang through the air like twinkling chimes, her eyes crinkling. “My gratitude you shall have, Haldor. I am forever in your debt.”

His gaze flickered over her, slow and deliberate, before a wicked grin curved his lips. “I can think of a few ways you might repay me.”

Before Thyra could respond, Sylvie smacked Haldor’s arm with a sharpthwap.

“Must you flirt with everything that moves?” She scoffed, her tone dry. She shot him a glare as she stepped between him and Thyra. “She needs her rest, not your insufferable attempts at charm.”

Thyra, however, didn’t seem to mind. Amusement danced in her eyes, and Sylvie recognized that look - the same longing she had seen in every other woman within the temple walls whenever Haldor drew near.

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