Page 95 of Of Stars and Lightning
But she was tired.
Her father had drained her. The desire to burn Samara and the kingsmen to a crisp had exhausted her. The outlets to relieve the piling frustrations were limited to training, riding, or distracting herself with whatever she could find—and none of her usual guilty pleasures did the trick anymore.
Twilight approached as she dismounted Fey and took in the sight before her.
Indeed, the temple was utterly empty. Not many of the new students came to pay their offerings regularly anymore, unless it was during the Awakening or a ceremonial ritual.
Throughout the generations, devotion to the gods had become more of a chore for the students. They were more preoccupied with the strength of their magic, training for hours, or reading as much history as possible so they could learn from it. What they didn't realize was that the strength of their magic was directly connected to how much their god favored them. And the gods only favored those whogave regular offerings.
Fools.
Sawyer gave Fey an affectionate pat and left her with a few apples before striding into the stone and marble chapel.
It was similar to the material the castle was made of, but it also had obsidian interwoven into its walls. The whole interior radiated as the setting sun bounced off the polished stones, sending multicolored rays all across the black floor. The room was open to the elements, only large archways holding up the roof and ever-lit torches. Pews lined both sides of the space, then a simple square table at the end of the rows with a chalice on top. The chalice was carved into the stone table itself to not risk it being lost or stolen. It had apparently happened before.
Sawyer walked to it, leaves crunching beneath her boots.
Her god stared down at her as she reached the offering stand. He, too, was carved of obsidian and depicted as a large, chiseled man with flowing hair and soul-piercing green eyes. Next to him, carved into the walls and glowing a fiery red, were the surnames of the most famous and ancient Fire Wielder bloodlines.
Sawyer climbed up to the dais and ran a hand across them.
Jestaller, Kolden, Viotto, and Semmena.
She paused over her own surname.
The union between her parents had been arranged. Her mother, Mel Yarrow, was the younger sister of the Rimemere Queen and a Wardress of the infamous Yarrow line. Her father, Arnold Semmena, was Lord of Melisandre and Fire Wielder of the third most feared bloodline, behind Kolder and Viotto. Originally, her father had been a prospect in Irene’s Coronation Vows—but for whatever reason she let him live, along with Draven, who became her betrothed. A few weeks later, Arnold was engaged to Mel. Either way, the union was celebrated, despite her father bringing in an older daughter from a previous affair with a Water Wielder, Rebekah Semmena.
Sawyer was not particularly close with her half-sister, as she was an absolute bitch and currently ruled over Melisandre. She sighed, cursing the day for taking such a solemn turn.
In the distance, beyond the mess of trees and shrubs, was the northern guard post. It was a small, squarebuilding with Royal green flags swaying atop its roof. It was one of the only posts near the coast, and although it was also the one closest to the Jinn Gate, it actually had minimal activity. She knew her third legion would be within, readying for the day’s end to begin night patrols.
As she carefully sliced a small cut on her forearm with her Wielder ring, she could almost hear her men in the guard post singing and laughing the way they always had while they changed shifts so many years ago.
Sawyer let her blood drip into the stone chalice and watched as it immediately evaporated into a crimson mist. She narrowed her eyes and looked back at the building.
It was completely silent.
Something along her neck prickled, like an invisible hand begging her to pay attention. She shook off the excess blood from her hand and unsheathed her sword.
Beyond the post were only hills and the ocean. The waves roared as they crashed into them as Sawyer approached, stepping off the temple grounds and into the lingering tree line.
When she arrived, she pushed the doors to the post open, only to be greeted by an empty, swollen silence within.
That wasn’t good.
Sawyer released a long breath as she stepped onto the tiled floor and gave the area an attentive assessment. There wasn’t much furniture for entertainment within the fort. Only couches and the occasional cot, and sometimes Sawyer would sneak in the castle blankets and leftover food.
A movement to her right had her sword and hands up in flames as she shifted toward it.
Sawyer would have recognized the Mind Slayer anywhere. Unlike the others, this one was a deep blue, and was absent of decrepit, rotting holes. Its face was slightly more humanoid than the rest, slightly more… sentient. It had no hair, no clothes, no grin.
Only its flashing, white eyes. Watching her.
Sawyer's sword shook in her hand. “You.”
From where it sat in the center of the room, it clicked its talons on the floor. “It’s been a long time, Sawyerlyn. You’ve grown into quite a woman.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Sawyer spat. “Where is my third legion?”
