The formal stature of the gown was textbook.
Glancing at the clock, I had to hurry. The Temple Masters gathered for dinner and had a small, private audience after. I could still make it.
The guards couldn’t deny me entrance as an acolyte.
While I did walk through the streets quickly, I also took the time to think about what I was going to say, how I was going to approach those grumpy old buzzards.
Dorian would be the worst.
Oh, would Dorian be the worst, by a long shot.
He was the oldest of the council, and…
Well, an asshole.
He had started pushing me to make my decision about being dedicated to the temple because he insisted I could not remain an acolyte.
Nothing in the Temple Texts said that. It was tradition for an acolyte to be dedicated to the temple or separate, but there was nothing anywhere that said I must decide. He’d badgered me for twenty years. I researched for twenty years. There was nothing. But he was the oldest and the most powerful of the council.
And, now, I had to explain magic called me to the mountain, and made me its servant. Far more than any power in the temple ever had.
How?
Why me?
I dismissed the second question. There was no point in thinking about it at all. The first one—how?—was more important currently.
How did I convince a council of twelve grumpy bastards—and I was including the five women in that bastard title because they were just as bad as the men—that the mountain called to me.
Never had I shown a unique talent with magic. I was a true-blooded druid. Both my father and my mother were from the Old Families, but that didn’t guarantee I was talented.
Until today, I hadn’t been.
I had been mediocre at best.
Taking shorter strides, I looked around me. The magic had faded back when I wasn’t paying attention, but as soon as I looked for it, it lit up.
The strands and strings were bright and strong.
They danced in the air, waiting.
Waiting for whoever would call them.
A couple I passed was surrounded by a thin mist, enveloped by light yellow magic.
Another was surrounded by an intense red bubble.
Another, an orange cloud.
And still another, a bright blue fog.
The auras were a fact of life.
I’d never viewed them quite this well or this easily.
The rousing of the mountain was meant to be a joy. The two worlds of S’Kir, that of the vampires and druids, were meant to be reunited and the Lost God to return. We would have a King and Queen again. There would be revelry in the streets and dancing in the squares, fireworks in the sky, and twirling fountains on the lakes.
Delight and excitement bubbled up inside me. There was so much happiness due to the people of S’Kir. And I was going to deliver the news to the Temple Masters that it was time.
Finally, time for joy and celebration.
The smile lodged firmly on my face bolstered me, and the wonderful thoughts of such celebration put a bounce in my step like no other.
My walk almost became a skip—how undignified.
The people around me stared at my formal dress in the middle of the week, with no declared festivals or celebrations. I didn’t care. I was delivering marvelous news, and my heart would not sit still.
The residences of the temple were in a different area from the school and the temple proper. Behind the school, down a path that wound away from the temple entrance, were the residences’ thirteen buildings.
One massive center building hosted the common area, with kitchens, library, receiving and conference rooms, a gym, and a smaller temple. The other twelve buildings circled the main one, each the private home of the Temple Masters. Not evenly spread around in a circle, they bunched slightly to the back to allow a pathway through a massive old hedge and tree tunnel that lead to the main entrance of the big building.
The necklace I wore proclaimed me an acolyte.
No guards tried to approach.
A building as old as time, bound to its eternal splendor by spells and magic weavings, it gleamed white, even in the deepening night. The moon rose, and it cast an eerie shadow on the white bricks. I could see the magic used now, and watched a moment as it cleaned the fa?ade nearby, scouring the bacteria that tried to ruin mortar.
I raised my right hand and knocked with tremendous force on the thick, unyielding doors. The knock barely made a sound on the wood, as though the door swallowed it whole.
The doors creaked.
Parted to swing open.
No one opened them. Magic did.
I gathered up the courage to enter and held my head high. I had never been here before. Everything I had done with the temple had been in the school and in the Dedicants’ dorms.
This was a very different place.
The Lost God had lived here once.
With as much reverence—and silence from my shoes—as I could summon, I strode forward.
And saw.
The massive rotunda streamed with magic, the threads tumbling from the heights above in magnificent waterfalls of color and light, flashing and dancing, laughing—welcoming. I could see beyond them as though they were a painted glass, the walls covered in murals and statues. The ceiling was a dome, concave step pyramids lining it, and an opening in the top center that would let the sun, or moon, shine down.
A masculine voice, hard-edged. “What is the meaning of this?”
I whirled on my feet, to the dramatic arch opposite the main door. Master Dorian stood there, flanked by Master Hedregon and Mistress Lunella.
My courage almost fled, but I pulled it back and stood straighter. “Masters, Mistress. I am Acolyte Kimber Raven, a teacher in the temple school. I have to report a joyful and wonderful occurrence in the mountains.”
“This couldn’t wait until morning?” Master Dorian’s eyes rolled in his head. I suspected if he rolled them any harder, he might sprain them.
“Master, I know you do not regard me highly for my indecision on my path forward, but the mountain called me tonight. Its magic beckoned me to a cave below.”
“The magic speaks—”
“Not like this,” I dared to cut him off. “Never like this. The mountain cracked below, and the walls were full of crystals. The magic there was so thick and rich. Your excellencies, I think the Breaking Time has arrived.”
Master Dorian rolled his eyes again and turned his back to me, walking to the back of the quarter. “You are an infant, Miss Raven. You have no idea of what you’re speaking about.”
“Mistress Lunella,” I said, bowing respectfully in her direction. “Will you hear me out?”
Her sigh said everything.
“Master Hedregon?” I probed.
He pursed his lips.
My nostrils flared. “You aren’t going to listen to an acolyte of your own temple? I don’t speak in hyperbole. I’m not given to hysterics. I have been a faithful servant to our people.”
“You are a child to us,” Master Dorian snapped from the distance. “You have no knowledge of power and magic that even begins to rival ours.”
Pompous ass!
“Excellency, I—”