The Elders were already seated, their expressions solemn, unreadable as they watched me enter, their eyes sharp and assessing.
The council chamber smelled of cedar and preserved pride. The Elders sat on the dais like kings on a hill, three of them wrapped in the slow dignity of age. Elder Kathar’s smile—polished and familiar—was waiting like a trap. Beside him sat Theron, whose pale eyes always seemed to calculate weight and burden, and Irina, combing her hair into the same exact, severe knot she always wore.
“High Priestess Elena,” Elder Kathar began after I was seated, his voice smooth, almost patronizing. “We are relieved to see you safe. We feared the worst.”
I nodded, my voice steady. “I appreciate your concern, Elder Kathar. But there is much I wish to discuss.”
A flicker of unease crossed his face, but he quickly masked it, his gaze steady as he met mine. “Of course. But perhaps it would be best to focus on the matter at hand. The Shadow King remains a threat, even bound to the forest. We must ensure he does not escape.”
I felt a surge of frustration, a simmering anger that I struggled to contain. “And what of the missing?” I asked, my voice sharp. “The homeless, the orphans who have disappeared—what isbeing done to find them?” I fixed them all with my hard stare. “As I walked back from the Forest of Night’s Bane, I saw the outer villages, the ones who need relief from famine. They were full of the hungry and the needy. Why has the relief we collected not reached them?”
The Elders exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable, and I felt a chill settle over me, a sinking feeling that twisted in my chest. Their faces had flickered—only too briefly—with something like calculation. I wondered how long they had practiced this against other troublemakers, other curious hearts.
“I am not sure what you saw, High Priestess, but this council is doing the best it can,” Elder Kathar said coldly. “We have tasked priests and acolytes to liase with merchants and send the grain to where it is most needed. You must trust your Elders to do what is right.” He frowned. “As for the missing, it is an unfortunate matter,” he shook his head dismissively.. “But destroying the Shadow King comes first. For too long, you have let his evil linger, High Priestess.”
I blinked, surprised at how neatly the Elders had laid the blame at my feet.
Once, I would have winced in supposed culpability and vowed to do better, but now, I frowned.
“Are you sure it is the Shadow King who is behind these disappearances? Do we have any proof?” I paused. “Speaking of proof, I would like to see the ledgers fort he relief shipments.”
Kathar frowned.
“Who else could be responsible for the disappearances if not the Shadow King? His darkness taints the land. Surely, it is his influence that has led to these disappearances.”
The words were a knife to my heart. So, the Elders would not search for the missing, and they had already decided they knew who was responsible.
My role was simply to agree with them, as I always had, anddo their bidding.
“I see,” I replied, my voice cold, controlled. “Then I shall continue to pray for guidance. But know this—I will not rest until the truth is uncovered.” I felt hot with the righteousness of a woman who had been lied to. My staff thudded against the dais as I rose.
Kathar’s voice turned silk to steel. “High Priestess, your tone borders on insubordination.” He fixed me with a look as if I had dirtied his sanctum. “You are to trust the Council’s wisdom.”
I did not flinch. “Then show me the ledgers for the relief shipments. Show me where the grain bound for the famine stricken villages went. Produce the manifest. Let me speak to the merchants who claimed the Temple seal. If I am wrong, I will recant publicly. If I am right—if these councils have been complicit—then I will not rest until the truth is pulled out by the roots.”
Something in the Elders’ faces changed then—a flash like a mirror turned too quickly. Kathar’s smile thinned to a blade. “You want records. Very well. Records can be produced. But you must understand—exposing such matters will have consequences. Panic can topple a city. We cannot risk that.”
“Panic?” I echoed. “The panic is already here. If truth causes panic, then the panic is the consequence of rot in the temple. Better to burn it away.”
They traded glances—fast, nervous. The fact that the Elders did not simply laugh me down made my skin prickle. Either their confidence was thin, or something else was true. The Council’s next words were carefully calibrated.
“We will provide you records,” Theron said, “but only you. Not for the public. We must manage the information. The safety of Solaris depends uponorder.”
“No,” I said angrily before I could temper it. “Clinging to a rigid order is what hides crimes. The people deserve the truth. Ifyou cannot put these records before the Temple and the courts, then I will take them to the populace.”
Kathar’s face darkened to something like a threat. “You would cause unrest.”
“And you would cause death,” I answered. “Which would you prefer?”
There was a beat of air where the world waited for an explosion. The Elders were powerful. They had resources, guards, the loyalty of men trained to obey the city’s orders. Yet there was something in the set of their brows that threatened defeat. They had not expected someone who would not be cowed.
At last Kathar inclined his head, the gentleman’s mask sliding back into place. “You must let us think,” he said. “We cannot be hasty.”
Silently, I inclined my head. My heart sinking at being put off, yet again.
As I turned to leave, my gaze met each of their eyes, a silent warning that I would not be swayed, would not be silenced.
Would the Elders truly hand me the proof I sought? The fact that they even considered it rather than outright defy me—what did that say? That they feared exposure more than they feared my wrath.
