Page 90 of Traitor Witch
NILSA
The door slamming is no surprise, but it shocks the two Solars into action.
“Wait here,” the older one commands, dragging Elsie behind her and out of the room.
I stand slowly, still trying to understand how any temple could fall into disrepair so badly.
Coveton is a small town, barely a port. Yet our temples are meticulously kept and well guarded at all times.
Ilyani is the second largest city in the kingdom. Its temples should be gleaming gems, bustling with witches and supplicants.
Not falling to pieces.
The statue of the Sun Mother has acrackin it for Goddess's sake.
It takes a while, eventually yet another Solar appears, this one with a pair of heavy cuffs, engraved with sigils. She holds them as far out from her body as physically possible, as if afraid to let me get too close.
“Return during the day and wear these. Only then will the Mother Solar speak with you.”
I grimace but take them from her with a nod.
I suppose I’m an exile now. I should get used to this kind of suspicion from all witches.
The rationalisation doesn’t alleviate the sting.
I can see why Alletta chose a quiet port to set up shop alone if this is how she was treated by her own kind.
Then again, maybe it’s just because I’m the ‘witch killer.’
“I’ll return at dawn,” I announce, placing the cuffs at the base of the Sun Goddess's statue before turning on my heel and leaving.
Cas and Kier aren’t there, but I don’t let that bother me.
I have a different mission now.
A little borrowed power from the Goddess transforms my white Solar robes into those of a moderately-wealthy human.
It takes several wrong turns and I get more than a few, strange looks when I ask for directions, but eventually I find my way to the Lunar Temple.
When I get there, I wish I’d never come.
It's so similar to the Lunar temple of Coveton that my heart throbs a little. It's even lit up, the sounds of revelry filling the streets around it with noise that makes me instantly homesick.
My clothes let me pass through the crowds relatively unhindered. I get a few odd looks, but no one remarks on my presence. Most of them are too inebriated to care.
I can't see any other Lunars. Not a hint of black or silver.
Everything is colourful. Bright jewel tones that don't belong.
The central courtyard is filled with people. A bar takes up one wall, bartenders pouring drinks laced with tiny transmutation circles. Liquors which smoke, fizz, or stay on fire as they're drunk.
Mage drinks.
More transmutation circles line the floor, giving off colourful smoke which layers the scene. The stickiness of liquor makes my shoes cling to the mosaic tiles, and the scent of too many bodies adds its own awful incense to the burnt smell of mage magic.
The sacred pool is steaming with warmth, filled to the brim with naked men. Barely-of-age human women in brightly coloured scarves splash around, offering drinks to their middle-aged patrons and sometimes receiving unwanted taps to the ass for their troubles. They flinch from the touches but don’t protest.
It’s the opposite of what revelry in a Lunar temple should be. This isn’t celebrating female sensuality, it’s twisting it to cater to the desires of sick men.
