Chapter 1
Lalya
Lalya opened the doors of the temple and took a deep breath; the air carried the scent of salt and tragedy. The new day was still battling the darkness. The perfect moment, if I may say so… not quite night; not day yet... it felt like the day she has seen in the past three years, but time has never been a fixed point for her. Past bled into future, present was blurry at most. Focus time is of the essence! She repeated inside her mind. This was a mantra for the watchers descendants. Without the purity of the exynium bloodline, the descendants had their powers corrupted by the mixt blood of their parents. Some were so much like humans they could live amongst them and no one would notice, but others… like her stood out like a sore thumb.
The White Sanctuary was more of a small city within its walls; the White Temple was the center building, thirteen houses were placed in a perfect circle around it, on the west side of the houses was the orchard, to the east were the vegetable and herbs gardens, the south faced the cliff and the north side held the summer prayer stone circle. Everything was made the same way in all the Sanctuaries across the land governed by the old gods. The symmetry of it had been passed down throughout the generations from the first Guardian of the Exynium Descendants.
Thirteen women currently lived within the temple walls. Lalya, the high priestess or the White witch, as the people of the flesh market called her was a descendent of the watcher cast.
Each one of the women of the temple held its history alive. One of the first things one would learn was the history and importance of the forgotten races; while the humans tended to live in ignorance of the other breeds. Within the walls of Sanctuary lay the true story of the exynium and its descendants and so much more.
Lalya walked down the steps and went around the Temple touching the white walls with reverence. Breathe in breathe out; it is for the best outcome. Take another step, force yourself to take another. The earth was cool beneath her feet. How many women had come inside these walls seeking asylum from the outside world? Countless. How many had passed down the stories of the last time the world reset? The amount of knowledge shared was endless. Inside the white temple held over twenty thousand year old tomes. They held the history of empires and races that had risen and turned to dust.
Years upon years of walking around the same paths, I know every pebble on these roads. It was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat. How many times do I have to see this cursed new day? Breathe in breathe out; it is for the best outcome.
Many years have passed since she was brought here, years of peace and quiet, until it was not. No, until it will not be.
“Everything will change now” she whispered as she started down the road to the orchard. Remnants of the last glimpse were still burned on the inside of her skin, the taste of copper on her tongue. Nobody said Change was easy to overcome, but by the gods it was hard to try finding your way in the darkness.
The door of the gatherers shed opened just as she was about to get past it.
“A beautiful new day high priestess” said the young girl smiling; she was always in a hurry it seemed, for she still had water on her freckled face.
“I was hoping you were up, Mara, come we have much to do” Lalya smiled as she looked upon the young girl. Breathe in breathe out; it is for the best outcome. Keep your voice calm. The girl blushed and hurried after her. Mara was the youngest charge of the Sanctuary; she had seen only thirteen summers, a survivor of the Wolf war. Left without a family or home she was found about a summer ago by Blaikisa wondering on the road between the Mountain Kingdoms and the Flesh Market.
“How can I help?” Mara’s words were fast, eager to please.
“The gate is heavy, but we will manage, come, we need to open it before the sun banishes the last night soldiers.” Lalya replied as she continued to smile patently and waited until Mara stopped next to her. Anguish had a heartbeat inside her for what was to come.
The girl missed a step and almost bumped into the next house, blushed again then started to stutter, everything the girl did was in an endless hurry.
“T...The gate? But mistress… I…I mean high priestess, the gate must remain closed… it is… it is…” as Mara kept rumbling until Lalya stopped, straighten her posture, raised her chin, looked down upon the girl and said in a firm and almost harsh tone.
“Listen child and listen well, inside the sanctuary my word is law. You are new, I know, I will not repeat myself.” she slowly turned and crossed past the last house, never looking back. Cruel to be kind, I am sorry child. She knew the girl would come, after all no one disobeyed her. The First Guardian had declared only a watcher descendent would be a high priestess. For who could lead them better than one that cold see the past’s mistakes and the future paths?
The gate was made of white wood carefully sculpted with the symbols of the exynium; each mark was polished until it shined. Under each mark, it was also written in the tongue of the ancients “Come in peace, and you are welcomed, this is the house of the descendants of forgotten casts, here you shall receive guidance.” On the other side of the gate, the same words were written in all the languages on the lands, some as old as time, some so new the paint was still fresh. Each visitor would add the same message in his own tongue, so all will know.
The Sanctuary was created by the first descendants of the exynium race. In a land riddled with war and endless power struggle it held safety for the innocents and injured; guidance for the lost, and most of all it held knowledge. It held no allegiance to any warlord or king. Anyone was welcomed as long as they obeyed a few simple rules.
Lalya touched the carvings with reverence slowly remembering the first time she has seen them.
