Page 90 of Daughter of the Serpent

After a moment, he huffed. “Are you so blinded by your own ego you can’t see the truth?” His words turned harsh, anger bleeding through. “None of this is worth your life!” His grip tightened around her arm, fingers digging in, desperate.

Sylvie tried to pull away, but his hold only grew more insistent, almost bruising. She could feel the tremor of his anger through his fingertips, the need of control that threatened to consume them both.

“You don’t understand what you’re walking into, Sylvie. I’ve seen what the other warriors are like - what they do when no one is watching.” His voice dropped lower, a raw edge cutting through the fear. “You don’t know what they have planned for you.”

Sylvie’s eye flashed to his face.

"The elders want you dead, Sylvie. It's common knowledge," Haldor hissed. "Don't you think they'll have something lined up for you? They're just waiting for the moment you're on that island, when you're alone, when they can finally strike ... and I don't know if I'll be able to protect you."

“Even so,” She lifted her chin. “I have my magic - "

"But you can't control it!" Haldor argued, exasperated. “Sylvie see reason! You can’t win this fight!”

“I don’t have a choice, Haldor. But even if I did, I wouldn’t turn away from this.” Her voice wavered, a crack in her determination as she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Don’t you understand? This is the only way I can prove myself - my worth, my innocence. My last chance to reclaim even a piece of a normal life.”

Emotion thickened her voice, but she pressed on. “This is my destiny, and if I die, at least I’ll die fighting for myself - not as the coward you want me to be.”

Haldor’s hand trembled, his grip tightening as if he could physically hold her back from what lay ahead. But then, his eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, the tension between them stilled.

“I can’t lose you, Sylvie,” he whispered, the plea breaking through his anger.

For just a moment, she glimpsed the boy she once knew - the one who had whispered secrets in the dark, who had shared her fears before the world became so complicated. But his words cut deep, a wound that reopened with a fresh sting.

He didn’t believe in her.

His doubt, his lack of faith in her strength, twisted the knife deeper than she could have imagined. Haldor, the one who she thought had seen her for who she truly was, only saw her as the rest did - a fragile thing, in need of saving.

“You may already have,” she replied, her voice hollow. Sylvie yanked her arm from his grasp, her movements sharp and final. Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Haldor standing alone, his hand outstretched to empty air.

The feasting hall buzzed with life as the banquet tables groaned under the weight of a spread fit for a king. The scent of succulent roasts and savory delights hung thick in the air, teasing the senses and stirring hungry bellies with anticipation. Amidst the crackling fires, delegates congregated, their voices rising in a cacophony of laughter and chatter. Drinking horns clashed together in a boisterous toast, and embraces were exchanged with the fervor of warriors preparing for the challenges ahead. However beneath the veneer of merriment, a current of tension thrummed, for not only did they each now await the impending trials, but also their families that had gathered to say their farewells.

For Sylvie, the tense atmosphere was a cloak too heavy to wear. Despite the festive facade, her heart weighed heavy with doubt and longing.

Would her family come to give her their favor before she embarked on her journey?

Would anyone want to wish her well, at all?

She had her doubts. Since her dedication to the temple, her interactions with her kin had been fleeting and scarce, a bittersweet reminder of the chasm that separated them. And now, as she scanned those of the gathered crowd, she found faces she recognized, but none that resembled her own. Amidst the clustered elders, she spotted Godvik, his jovial demeanor a welcome sight, his cheeks flushed with merriment as he regaled a companion with tales of history and glory.

Runa stood beside him, resplendent in her finery, long golden chains draped around her neck, and her tattooed arms and sole hand on full display. With a subtle nod, she acknowledged Sylvie's presence, her eyes relaying silent reassurance amongst the tumult of emotions that churned within.

Haldor lingered along the outskirts of the crowded hall, his presence palpable even from a distance. Though he stood in the shadows, watching from afar, he looked solemn. His arms crossed tightly at his chest, his eyes cast downward. As if he could sense her presence, their eyes locked fleetingly, a silent exchange, before Sylvie hastily diverted her gaze, unwilling to delve into the tangle of emotions stirred.

She needed to focus, she couldn’t be flustered with him tonight, nor twisted in her anger - she only had this one night to see her family, unencumbered by the weight of the temple’s restrictions, and she planned to soak in every moment she could.

That is, if they showed at all.

As she continued her search, she saw many reuniting with their loved ones. Unlike the usual excitement and emotion that followed a time of separation, the uncomfortability was clear as each embrace carried the testament to the years of detachment imposed by the temple's rigidity.

Cora, one of the most promising of delegates, hesitated as her family approached, her body tense as her hands fidgeted with thefabric of her robes. Sylvie watched as her mother’s arms reached out toward her, throwing her into her embrace with such exuberance that she was nearly knocked over. Cora’s arms remained at her sides, her body rigid and straight, her facial expression unclear. Amidst the expected joyous reunions, most held back, keeping their emotions carefully concealed behind their walls of emotional reserve.

As Sylvie glanced around, it was clear that Cora was not the only one who was feeling the strain. Many were uncertain of how to bridge the chasm that had formed between mother and daughter, father and son, sibling, or friend. The time that had passed had driven a wedge between all, transforming most into strangers.

As Sylvie looked over the scene unfolding before her, it was clear that the temple had been successful in their endeavors to create compliant and obedient servants of the light, who only lived and breathed the temple’s wishes and held no other attachments - and Sylvie couldn’t help but notice the burn of anger that seemed to rip through her chest at the sight.

They had stolen their humanity - the love.

The temple had taken away even these fleeting moments of reunion and open hearted vulnerability. The stark line that stood between those of the light, and those outside the temple had never felt more drawn.

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