38 Bubbling Drive

12th of December, the Year 1911 of the Hallowed Calendar, early in the morning within the Great Sanctuary of Priene.

"I'm baffled."

Stolos of Priene paced from one corner of the room to another under the airy gaze of Lyra Elcmene.

She eyed his endless stride indifferently, enjoying a honey-made cake.

"Ninety confirmed deaths, at least double that number of injured... without even mentioning the spreading plague. The Profaners have gone too far. Why aren't the Pontiffs responding yet?"

Lyra calmly took a bite of her sweet pastry, contrasting with her companion's agitation.

"How can you remain so undisturbed, Priestess?! My blood is boiling right now."

Lyra swallowed in response, nonchalantly sitting back while putting one leg above the other. She clasped her hands under her wrap, pressing her fingers so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Calm down. Remember our duties," she said. "While I may appear composed, I'm not indifferent towards last night's incident. Still, we must consider the Kingdom's status first and foremost."

"What do you mean?" Stolos gritted his teeth. "Hundreds have died or are wounded. Many more will succumb when the Pale Malady blooms. What could be more important than that?"

Lyra glanced through the window, taking in the warmth of daylight's golden strands.

"Think. Why are we here? For what reason have we been assigned to the Inner Monastery?"

"To guard the Celestial Offering, of course."

"For what purpose?"

Stolos frowned. "What are you playing at—"

"Answer me." Lyra's tone was sharp, making the Novice shrink away.

"... To ensure that the Sacrificial Ceremony takes place and that we may gain the Gods Beyond's blessing."

Lyra nodded. "Indeed. It's a ceremony that occurs once per century—a privilege each of the seven nations have gained only a handful of times since the Hallowed Sovereigns' descent. Now, what do you believe this entails for Hierapetra?"

Stolos sat on a nearby chair, his eyes unfocused. "Everyone is watching us."

"Exactly." Lyra let out a deep sigh. "The Kingdom needs to be mindful of its actions now more than ever. Yesterday's incident lit a pale beacon for the Profane Lands. If we respond wrongly and they perceive it as a sign of weakness, they'll become relentless. I'm sure the Pontiffs are aware of that."

"The frontier cities of Gangra and Delos in the Western Province have already sent calls for help. There are reports of Profaner pillagers reaching as deep as Erythrae. That's halfway between the Western and Eastern Provinces. Our coasts have been plagued by pirates from the Drowned Hopes for months. If the pressure increases any further, there will be heavy tolls."

"Not only that, but the consequences will echo far and wide. If we falter under the Profaners' assaults, there's no reason the Sethian Empire won't take its chance and invade us. They're doing the exact same thing with Lichtenhimmel at this very moment."

"Moreover, we have no idea how Valsgarde will react. The uncertainty of what's currently happening in that damned tundra heavily strains our forces by constantly making it necessary to survey the northern borders. A single misstep could mean a cascading chain of events that would drive us to ruin."

"What's the solution, then?" Stolos argued, still unconvinced. "Let them run rampant in Priene? Leave them unpunished despite the catastrophe they've just caused?"

"I've never said that. There will be retribution, that's certain. However, the Kingdom mustn't display any signs of wavering. The Sacrificial Ceremony will proceed as scheduled. The ports will remain open. Priene will continue to be flooded with locals and foreigners alike coming for the celebrations. We must prove that this incident was a mere dent—lesser than a threat and of no consequence to our strength."

"What about the people? They're the ones suffering the most from this." Stolos maintained his position.

Lyra bit her lip, her eyes shifting downwards. "We've pledged ourselves to the Temple and Her Divine Majesty. It's not our place to judge their decisions."

The Novice was about to say something when the door suddenly opened. Their newly appointed superior, Bishop Antenor of Delos, stood at the entrance with his usual stern gaze.

This time, however, it held subtle hints of sadness.

"Your Excellency." Lyra rose from her seat. "What's the matter?"

"We've got word from the Luminous House. Aeson of Erythrae, Cleonicus of Ephyra, Theras of Delos, and Semele Timandra have all lost their lives while performing their duties. Theras was the last to succumb to the Pale Malady a few minutes ago."

Antenor marked a pause.

"I know you were from the same class as him and Semele, Novice Stolos. My sincere condolences. May the Goddess bless them amongst the stars."

They all drew the Luminous Spear on their chests, echoing his words:

"May the Goddess bless them amongst the stars."

"May the Goddess bless them... amongst the stars."

Antenor sized them with familiar coldness, as if he was assessing their reactions. After a short silence, he spoke:

"This new illness seems to be targeted at magi. Even the Pontiff of Dawn's Golden Blood failed to cure it, and it appears to spread fast with the availability of Mana and a living host. It causes pale-white feathers to grow from the flesh, draining the blood and smothering our internal organs."

"It takes root in non-magi too, of course, but its killing rate is around twenty percent for them. For magi, however... it's over seventy percent—ninety percent without immediate intervention."

"We don't know how it propagates yet, so be careful. No one bearing signs of infection can approach the Inner Monastery. Suspend the usual rotation of the Gilded Watch guarding the Honored One for the time being. We can't risk the Celestial Offering's health until the Sacrificial Ceremony. Understood?"

Lyra and Stolos offered a respectful bow to their superior. "Yes, Your Excellency."

"Good," Antenor nodded. "Only four days remain. I pray that nothing else happens until then. If you sense something is amiss, your priority is to keep the Celestial Offering alive at all costs and by any means necessary. Should the Ceremony proceed without problems, we'll most likely be considered to undergo the next Insight Rituals, so let us count on each other for the Honored One's protection."

"Right." Despite the grim news and their companions' death, Lyra and Stolos couldn't help but feel hopeful about the future.

The prospect of climbing the Temple's ranks and reaching the next magus class was enough to steel their resolve.

Both had honed their minds and pushed their current magecraft to its limits, but none wanted to kill their potential by rotting within the shackles of an Occultist. Their allies' demise during the previous day's incident proved how dangerous it was to feel content about one's power.

If they wanted to better serve their Hallowed Sovereign, their people, and their nation, it was necessary to strengthen themselves even further—to overcome their dread of Mana's corruption and to brave through the madness of the Reverse Boundary of the World without fear.

Only then would they accomplish their goals of protecting what they cherished.

Only then would they feel secure about their desire to avenge the countless comrades they had lost.