Fury and Despair

A heavy silence filled the room. I stared at my reflection: lips pinched, cheeks red, fury and despair mingling in my eyes.

“I want to speak to Seer Mei,” I said to the Omnivoyance.

The reflection remained unchanged. The mirror didn’t speak or otherwise acknowledge me which was both a relief and an insult. I don’t know what I would have done if a mouth had opened and the mirror started speaking to me.

I hit the mirror with an open palm, pressing hard against the glass. “Let me speak to someone else, then.”

Still nothing. A fine trembling started in my hands and took over my whole body. I whirled, stalked over to a nearby brazier, and tried to pick it up. Despite its weight, I managed to lift it to my chest. It was awkward to move with, requiring me to hobble back onto the platform.

“I hate this,” I said to the Omnivoyance, to Seeker Len, to the gods themselves.

With a heave, I threw the brazier against the mirror. The resulting sound was horrific and piercing. A huge crack sliced the mirror in two. I had hoped for a more dramatic shattering, but I supposed this would do. I grinned, despite feeling no real satisfaction.

Pain bloomed in my hands. I examined my palms to see that I’d burned myself, which I supposed shouldn’t have been surprising. Tears welled up and a lump started to form in my throat. Once again, I had been denied real answers.

The noise had drawn Brother Lysander, Sister Hermia, and Sister Helena into the Inner Sanctum.

“What have you done?” Brother Lysander cried.

“I broke your mirror,” I said, voice thick with unshed tears. “How does it feel?”

Brother Lysander rushed to the Omnivoyance, his hands fluttering like panicked sparrows. Sister Hermia dragged the brazier off of the platform and righted it. Sister Helena pressed her palms together and lowered her head.

A void yawned inside me. I was so drained, my emotions cycling so quickly I couldn’t even determine how I was feeling. The urge to lie down and curl up into a ball was almost overwhelming.

I heard voices. Probably Brother Lysander saying something. I had no desire to listen, and my mind obliged me by changing his voice to a low hum. Hands gripped my arms and began to drag me out of the Inner Sanctum. Sister Hermia and Sister Helena were steering me down the stairs at a brisk pace. I didn’t bother asking where we were going as I did not care.

We spiraled down, down, down to the first floor. The halls flew by in a blur, then we were out in the sun. It was late afternoon, coming close to early evening. Before I knew it, I’d been shoved out the main gate.

“From this day forth, you have been banned from stepping foot inside the Eternity Temple or its surrounding land,” Sister Hermia said. Her voice was tight, the first sight of emotion I’d seen from her.

“How will I ever go on?” I said dully.

“Your elk will also be returned to the palace at a later time,” Helena added. “Brother Lysander thought it best if you served part of your penance by walking back unaided to better reflect on your actions.”

I sighed. After all that, I still ended up having to walk back.

“It was unfortunate that we had to see each other again,” I said to the women. “I truly hope this is the last time I ever see you.” With that I left, never once looking back.

The path back to the palace was straightforward. There weren’t any significant forks in the road, just dirt paths that cropped up on occasion, leading to who knows where. The ride was about an hour or so, based purely on my own perception, so the journey back would take at least that long. The elk hadn’t ever gone faster than a walk on the way up, so the distance travelled shouldn’t have been too great.

This might have been a penance, but to be alone was a sort of gift. The burns on my hands were irritating rather than debilitating so I determined they were probably not burned too badly. I cradled my hands against my chest as I walked.

Bird song danced through the trees, the smell of pine in the air. In the shade, it was a touch too cool so I did my best not to linger. Hunger gnawed at my stomach. I hadn’t been offered any food at the temple and it was well past lunch now, likely closer to dinner.

I took deep, even breaths. I was a balloon, floating just above the ground and thinking of nothing. There was no plotting, no planning, no dwelling. I spent my energy forcing my mind to drift.

By the end of my long walk, I had regained a bit of my sense of self, though much of it was still pushed to the fringes of my awareness. The gate to the palace grounds came into view. The usual guards were there, along with Vris. Her face flooded with relief when she saw me.

“My lady, you have returned,” she said, coming up to me.

I hummed. She waited for a beat then said, “Are your hands hurt?”

Instead of answering, I held them out to her. She examined them briefly before saying, “Mild burns, I can treat those for you right away. Ah, but first you must come with me.”

I followed her without remark. I assumed this was a continuation of my punishment. Instead of going to Sparrow Hall, we went to the palace by way of a path I hadn’t seen before. We went around the outskirts, making me appreciate just how large the Palace of Gratitude was, before reaching a set of doors like those that lead down to a cellar. A pair of guards opened it.

“Am I being thrown in the dungeon?” I asked wryly.

Vris looked at her feet. “Ah, please step inside, my lady.”

The doors pulled back to reveal a stone staircase leading down into the earth, lit by small torches. Beneath my fog of indifference, I felt a flicker of pleasure. Something I did forced their hand, they were finally treating me like what I was. A prisoner.

I held out my wrists. “Do you need to put shackles on me?”

Vris flushed, her face outraged. “No, my lady. That is not necessary. Unless. . .” She trailed off and deflated a bit.

“Unless I refuse to go down there,” I said.

Vris gestured to the staircase. “Yes, so please, if you would. . .”

I brushed past her and walked down the steps without any further prodding. Time to see what a palace dungeon looked like.