The journey back to Cremoor was somber and quiet. The Knights of Solarius, clad in their shining armor emblazoned with the symbol of Solarius, took the lead, their warhorses moving with purpose. Behind them, a few carts creaked along the road, laden with the weight of frightened children, some still crying softly, their faces streaked with dirt and tears. The warriors from the Temple of Solarius in Cremoor flanked the carts, their expressions grim at learning that a cult that tormented children had been residing so close to Cremoor. The knights kept their weapons close at hand, ready for any lingering threat. The Radiant Vanguard brought up the rear, battered and weary from their ordeal in the caverns beneath the Village of Vistow.
Surprisingly, Lauren had chosen to remain behind, stating that her healing may be needed if one of the knights who were searching the caverns and tunnels below the village was injured. Quin began to protest but stopped quickly when Lauren voiced that he had done his job and that now it was time to do hers.
Quin barely had the strength to stay upright on Albert’s saddle. His exhaustion weighed on him like lead, and every muscle in his body protested with every slight movement. The healing Lauren had provided earlier had stopped the bleeding and sealed the worst of their wounds, but the spirit depletion and fatigue were unlike anything Quin had experienced before. Despite it all, the young girl he had rescued, Asper, clung to him, refusing to leave his side. When asked to join the other children in the cart, she had shaken her head fiercely and tightened her grip on Quin’s tunic.
So, he let her stay, cradled in his lap as Albert trudged along. She pressed her face against his chest, her tiny body trembling every so often as the events of the day played out in her mind. Quin whispered reassurances to Asper when he could muster the energy, though his words grew fainter as his own weariness threatened to overwhelm him.
Beside him, Westin, pale and clearly drained, dozed off on his horse several times. At one point, his head lolled to the side, and he nearly slid from the saddle. Cal, riding just behind him, reached out and steadied Westin with a firm grip on his shoulder. “Stay awake, Westin,” Cal said quietly, though there was no bite in his tone. He looked just as exhausted.
“I’m awake...I think,” Westin mumbled, blinking rapidly before shaking his head and sitting up straighter. He managed to stay conscious, though his eyes remained half-lidded for most of the journey.
Sam and Zach rode on either side of the Vanguard, their faces lined with pain and exhaustion. Even Zach, who was usually quick with a quip, was silent, his expression dark and contemplative. The weight of what they had witnessed in Vistow hung heavy in the air, a reminder that their fight was far from over.
The road seemed endless, and the city of Cremoor was a distant beacon on the horizon, its spires rising into the sky. By the time they finally reached the towering gates, night had fallen, and the flickering torchlight of the guards illuminated their path. The priests of Solarius were waiting at the entrance, their robes pristine and their hands outstretched to receive the children. Relief washed over the group as they realized they had finally reached safety.
Asper, in Quin’s arms, had fallen asleep during the ride, her slight form slack against him. As the priests approached, Quin gently dismounted, wincing as his legs nearly buckled beneath him. He carefully handed the girl over to one of the priests, who cradled her with practiced ease.
“I can accompany you,” Quin offered, his voice hoarse and strained, as he instinctively reached for Albert’s reins to follow.
The priest shook his head firmly, a gentle smile on his face. “You’ve done more than enough, young Acolyte. Rest now. We’ll ensure the children are taken care of.”
Quin hesitated, glancing at the girl one last time before nodding. He turned to find his friends dismounting as well, their movements sluggish and pained. Zach clapped a hand on Quin’s shoulder, giving him a tired but reassuring nod.
The priests led the children away, their soft voices comforting and soothing as they guided them into the city. The Radiant Vanguard watched them go, standing together in silence as the weight of the day’s events pressed down on them.
“Let’s get some rest,” Cal finally said, his voice heavy. “We’ll need it for whatever comes next.”
No one argued as they made their way toward their respective temples, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Quin trudged through the halls of the Temple of Solarius, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time he reached his suite, his legs threatened to give out. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, the familiar warmth of his small sanctuary greeting him. The flickering light of the ever-burning lantern on his desk bathed the room in a golden glow, but Quin barely registered it.
He dropped his broadsword near the door, the weapon clattering to the floor as he staggered to his bed. His body felt weighed down, as though he were wearing armor. Quin collapsed onto the mattress, his muscles screaming in protest before they finally gave in to the pull of rest. He barely managed to pull the blanket over himself before sleep overtook him completely.
The world faded, and Quin sank into a deep, dreamless sleep, his mind and body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had plagued him since the battle in the caverns. Hours passed, and the golden light of dawn filtered through the window, unnoticed by the young warrior.
It was late afternoon when Quin finally stirred. The sunlight streaming through his window was no longer golden but a softer hue, signaling the waning hours of the day. Quin blinked groggily, his mind sluggish as he tried to process the time.
He sat up, his joints popping in protest. His body ached, but the dull throb of pain was a far cry from the searing agony he had felt the previous day. Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, Quin groaned softly. “I slept the entire day away…”
Shaking his head, he rose from the bed and stretched, wincing as his sore muscles protested. A quick shower did wonders to wash away the remnants of sleep, grime, and gore from the previous day’s ordeal. The warm water cascading over his skin soothed his aches, and by the time he stepped out, he felt marginally more human. He dressed quickly, pulling on the simple robes of an Acolyte, and headed for the dining hall.
The moment Quin entered, the atmosphere hit him like a wave. The hall was abuzz with chatter, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of gossip. Acolytes and Disciples clustered together at the long tables, their faces animated as they whispered and speculated. Quin caught snippets of conversations as he moved toward the food counter.
"...heard the Knights of Solarius were sent out—"
"—a cult? Can you believe it?"
"No one knows who discovered it, but they say it was—"
Quin sighed inwardly, shaking his head at the whirlwind of rumors swirling around the room. He kept his head down as he collected his food, avoiding eye contact with the other Acolytes. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged into the gossip, especially since he was at the center of it all.
Tray in hand, Quin found an empty corner of the dining hall and sat down. The chatter continued unabated around him, but he tuned it out as he focused on his meal. The warm food was a welcome comfort, and for a moment, Quin allowed himself to simply be, the weight of the past day temporarily forgotten.
Quin sat at his corner table in the dining hall, mechanically lifting his fork to his mouth. The food, though warm and filling, tasted like ash to him. His mind swirled with thoughts of the battle, the clash of blades, and the lives he had taken in the caverns. He replayed the fights over and over in his head, hearing the cries of the Guardians as they fell and the weight of his broadsword as it struck them down. Quin felt the blood splash across his skin, hot and sticky.
For the first time in his life, Quin had killed. Not beasts, but people.
He glanced up briefly, watching the lively chatter around him. The other Acolytes were oblivious to his turmoil, their focus fixed on their gossip about the Knights of Solarius. He envied their detachment, their ignorance. To them, it was just a tale—something distant and exciting to speculate about. For Quin, it was real.
His hand trembled slightly as he placed the fork back on the tray. He clenched it into a fist under the table, steadying himself. He had done what was necessary. Those people had been part of a vile operation, harming innocent children. They had chosen their path, and he had acted to protect others. But no amount of reasoning or justification dulled the heavy weight pressing on his chest.
The faces of the Guardians haunted him. They weren’t monsters or beasts—they had been human. Cultists, yes, but still human. And now they were dead because of him.
Quin stared down at his tray, his appetite gone. A hollowness gnawed at him, an ache that no amount of food or rest could fill. He needed something more. He needed guidance, reassurance that he wasn’t losing himself, that he was still walking the path of light.
Pushing his tray aside, Quin rose from his seat, unnoticed by those around him. His steps carried him out of the dining hall and toward the church, seeking solace in the presence of Solarius.
When Quin stepped through the grand arched doors of the church, the world seemed to quiet around him. The late afternoon sun filtered through the massive stained-glass windows, casting vibrant hues of yellow, gold, and orange across the gleaming white stone. The towering pillars stretched toward the cathedral ceiling, their intricate carvings of sunbursts and rays illuminated by the warm light.
Unlike the morning mass, the church was nearly empty. A few scattered worshippers knelt in the pews, their heads bowed in silent prayer. The soft hum of their whispered words mixed with the faint scent of incense that lingered in the air.
Quin’s gaze was drawn to the colossal statue of Solarius at the altar. The god’s arms were raised high, holding a brilliant sun above his head, its radiant light casting a warm glow over the empty expanse. The sight should have comforted Quin, but instead, it only deepened the ache in his chest.
He walked down the aisle, his footsteps echoing faintly in the vast space. Reaching an empty pew near the front, Quin sank to his knees, folding his hands together in prayer. He stared up at the statue, searching for answers, for guidance, for something to ease the turmoil in his soul.
“Father, Solarius,” Quin whispered, his voice trembling. “I... I don’t know if I did the right thing. I acted to protect the children, to stop the evil that was happening, but... the lives I took...”
His voice broke, and he bowed his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Is this what it means to follow your light? To fight for what is right, even if it means taking lives? Am I still worthy of your blessings?”
The silence of the church was deafening, broken only by the faint whispers of other worshippers in the distance. Quin stayed there, his heart laid bare, hoping for an answer, for some sign that he hadn’t lost his way.
Quin remained still, the weight in his chest growing heavier as the moments stretched on in silence. He felt no reassurance, no comfort—just the emptiness of his unanswered pleas. His hands tightened, his knuckles white, and he shifted forward onto his knees, bowing his head deeply. He closed his eyes, the light of the church filtering through his lids.
With a deep breath, Quin focused his spirit and activated his Divine Insight ability, his whispered prayer barely audible. “Please, Father. Guide me. Show me that I have not strayed from your light.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a warmth blossomed in his chest, spreading outward like the first rays of a sunrise. Quin’s breath caught as his vision filled with a series of vivid images.
First, he saw himself standing in the cavern beneath Vistow; his sword raised as he shielded the children from harm. The golden light of Solarius seemed to glow around him, casting shadows of protection over the frightened faces.
Next, he saw the Radiant Vanguard battling side by side, their weapons flashing with divine purpose as they struck down the cultists. Their faces were set with determination, and behind them stood a faint, glowing presence—a figure that Quin instinctively recognized as Solarius himself.
The final image was of a blazing sun, radiant and all-encompassing. Its light washed over Quin, erasing the blood on his hands and the anguish in his heart. The warmth of the sun enveloped him, and though no words were spoken, he understood the meaning clearly: I am proud of you, my son. You did what was right. You walked in my light.
The images faded, and Quin’s chest heaved as the weight lifted from his soul. His tears, once born of doubt, now fell from relief. He felt a strength he hadn’t known he needed—a reassurance that his actions were just, his path unwavering.
As Quin opened his eyes, he looked up at the colossal statue of Solarius at the altar. He froze. The statue’s eyes glowed with an intense white light, piercing and divine. They weren’t just glowing—they were staring directly into him, into his very soul.
Quin’s breath hitched, and he knelt straighter, reverence overtaking him. There was no doubt in his mind—his father was watching him. Solarius was with him.
For the first time since visiting Vistow, Quin smiled. His Divine Insight had worked, and it had delivered not just answers but the validation he so desperately needed. With his father’s approval, Quin felt whole again.
Quin instinctively reached for his sword as he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him, turning swiftly. His mind immediately left its place of serenity and put him back into the caves of Vistow, enemies all around him. It was fight or flight. However, his heart instantly calmed when he saw High Priest Patrick Falter standing calmly at the entrance to the pews, his face serene, his hands clasped lightly in front of him.
Patrick offered a warm, reassuring smile. “Relax, Quin. I didn’t mean to startle you. I came to talk.”
Quin exhaled deeply and stood, lowering his hand. “High Priest Patrick… I didn’t notice your approach.”
“That’s likely because you were quite focused,” Patrick replied, his gaze drifting pointedly to the statue of Solarius behind Quin. The statue’s eyes still glowed with radiant white light, casting an ethereal glow over the altar. Patrick’s tone remained calm as he added, “And it seems you weren’t the only one focused here today.”
Quin’s gaze followed Patrick’s, and his heart swelled again at the sight of his father’s presence, still lingering through the statue. Patrick continued, “Solarius looking through his statues—his eyes, as some call it—is a rare occurrence. Most often, it happens during great moments of revelation or triumph. Almost never does it happen in an empty church when an Acolyte prays… but then again, Quin, you are no ordinary Acolyte.”
Quin swallowed, unsure how to respond. “I… I didn’t expect…”
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Patrick raised a hand to gently stop him. “No need to explain. I only came to tell you that you’ve done well, Quin. You did the right thing yesterday. You protected the innocent and stood against evil when no one else could. Those are heavy choices for anyone to make, especially for someone so young.”
Quin nodded, his voice quiet. “It was difficult, but… I feel better now. My father—Solarius—he… he reassured me. I know I made the right choice.”
Patrick’s expression softened. “Good. The path of a warrior isn’t for everyone, and if there ever comes a time when you find yourself unable to move forward down that road, know the priesthood will always welcome you. A priest with your birth and status, although unknown to most at the moment, would inspire the masses and guide them to the light in this world. There is plenty that can be done within that calling. But it seems Solarius himself has already reaffirmed your place on the path you’ve chosen.”
Quin smiled faintly, his confidence returning. “Thank you, Patrick. I’ll keep that in mind, but I know what I must do now. My choices are clear.”
Patrick gestured toward the increasing crowd filling the church. “I’m glad to hear that, but I think it might be time for you to take your leave. Word spreads quickly in Cremoor, and people are already beginning to notice Solarius’s presence here. Many are already asking questions about why he would appear at this moment, at this statue. It’s better if you’re not here to fuel unnecessary speculation.”
Quin glanced around and noticed the growing throng of worshippers pouring into the church, their murmurs of awe and praise filling the once-quiet space. He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’ll go.”
Patrick placed a reassuring hand on Quin’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should check on your friends. They might be struggling as well after yesterday, and you may be just the reassurance they need.”
Quin nodded again. “I will.”
As Quin turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the glowing eyes of the statue. His father’s silent approval stayed with him, a warmth in his heart as he slipped out of the church, weaving through the growing crowd unnoticed as everyone focused on the spectacle unfolding before them.
Quin made his way through the bustling streets of Cremoor, the echoes of the earlier prayer still calming his thoughts. His steps were deliberate, his destination clear: the Temple of Justicar, where Sam resided. He hoped Sam’s unshakable sense of justice could offer further perspective on the storm of emotions that lingered despite his father’s reassurance.
The Temple of Justicar loomed ahead, its austere stone fa?ade reflecting the steadfast nature of the deity it honored. Inside, Quin found Sam seated at a long wooden table in the dining hall, a late lunch of bread, cheese, and roasted meat spread before him. The hall was nearly empty, save for a few other Acolytes and the muted clatter of utensils.
Sam looked up as Quin approached, his expression brightening. “Quin! Join me.”
Quin took the seat across from him, observing how calm and collected Sam appeared. There was no trace of the burden that had weighed on Quin since the battle.
“How are you holding up?” Quin asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.
Sam shrugged, tearing a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Quin leaned forward slightly. “After everything that happened yesterday… everything we had to do?”
Sam swallowed his food and met Quin’s gaze steadily. “You mean the killing?”
Quin nodded.
Sam’s eyes grew sharp, and he set his bread down with purpose. “Quin, I feel no remorse for what we did. Those people violated every principle Serenity stands for. They twisted her teachings, corrupted her name, and used children as tools for their own gain. They deserved a swift delivery to Justicar’s judgment. Now, in death, they can spend eternity repenting for their sins.”
Quin frowned slightly, his own emotions in stark contrast to Sam’s conviction. “You don’t feel anything? No doubt, no hesitation?”
Sam shook his head firmly. “None. I don’t take lives lightly, Quin, but there are lines that should never be crossed. They crossed them. Justicar’s Laws are clear—proportional retribution is justice, and their crimes demanded what we gave them. You know as well as I do that leaving them alive would have put countless others at risk. My only regret is not having saved my Laws of Justicar spell. I used it too frivolously before I knew what we were getting into. My use of it for interrogation may have cost us our lives. I should have saved it.”
Quin was silent for a moment, considering Sam’s words. There was a weight in them and a clarity that Quin couldn’t help but admire.
“I guess I just… I didn’t expect it to be so hard,” Quin admitted quietly. “Even knowing we had to do it.”
Sam’s expression softened slightly, and he reached across the table to clap Quin on the shoulder. “That’s because you have a good heart, Quin. Feeling conflicted isn’t a weakness—it’s a reminder of why you’re on this path in the first place. But don’t let that doubt consume you. We did the right thing.”
Quin nodded slowly, Sam’s unwavering belief easing some of the lingering tension in his chest. “Thanks, Sam. I needed to hear that.”
Sam grinned and picked up his fork. “Anytime. Now, do you want to grab something to eat, or do you just plan to stare at my plate while I finish?”
Quin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll pass this time. I have a few more visits to make.”
“Well, don’t overthink it too much,” Sam said, waving him off as Quin stood. “We’ve got each other’s backs, always.”
Quin left the Temple of Justicar feeling a bit steadier, Sam’s conviction a balm to his own wavering thoughts.
Quin arrived at the Temple of Luxor, where Westin lived and trained. The building’s smooth, ivory-white stone and its tall, narrow windows gave it an air of serene elegance. Quin made his way to the residential wing, navigating the quiet corridors until he found the door to Westin’s quarters.
He raised his hand and knocked firmly. There was no response at first, so he knocked again, louder this time.
A muffled groan came from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Quin,” he called back.
There was the sound of shuffling and a thud, followed by Westin’s groggy voice. “One second…”
After a long pause, the door creaked open, revealing Westin with tousled hair and heavy-lidded eyes. He was still in his sleepwear, a simple tunic and trousers, and he looked like he’d been dragged from the depths of slumber.
“Quin?” Westin rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check on you,” Quin said, stepping back to give Westin space. “After everything that happened yesterday.”
Westin leaned against the doorframe, yawning again. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Quin frowned slightly. “You’ve been asleep all day?”
Westin shrugged. “Pretty much. Used a lot of spirit yesterday. Between that firework cannon from my Imaginative Arsenal and the fighting, I’m drained.”
Quin hesitated, then decided to voice the thoughts still swirling in his mind. “Westin, about the people we… killed yesterday. Does it bother you?”
Westin blinked slowly, clearly still half-asleep. Then, with another yawn, he said, “Quin, the Book of Ideals says it best:
Honor.
Live with integrity in all things. Never stray from the path of truth, even when it is difficult. Honor is the shield against corruption, and without it, we are no better than those who live in darkness.”
He looked Quin in the eye, his expression earnest for someone so groggy. “We acted with honor yesterday, Quin. We didn’t stray from what was right. That’s all there is to it.”
Quin considered Westin’s words, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Thanks for that.”
Westin yawned again and waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Glad I could help. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Quin chuckled, stepping back. “I’ll let you rest. Take care, Westin.”
“See you around,” Westin mumbled, closing the door as he shuffled back to bed.
Quin left the Temple of Luxor, Westin’s matter-of-fact wisdom adding another layer of clarity to his thoughts.
Quin found Zach in the training grounds of the Temple of Valor, sweat pouring off him as he pushed through an intense workout. Zach was shirtless, his broad frame glistening under the midday sun as he struck a training dummy with a wooden practice sword. His movements were sharp, deliberate, and filled with frustration.
“Zach,” Quin called, walking closer.
Zach stopped mid-swing, glancing at Quin. “Hey,” he said gruffly, setting the practice sword down. “What brings you here?”
Quin shrugged, stepping into the training area. “I wanted to check on you. After yesterday… you know.”
Zach grabbed a towel and wiped his face. “I’m not well.”
Quin frowned. “Is it because of… what we had to do? The killing?”
Zach shook his head sharply. “No. Not that.” He sat down on a nearby bench, his posture tense and his fists clenched. “It’s because I was too weak.”
Quin raised an eyebrow. “Too weak?”
Zach’s jaw tightened as he spoke, his voice filled with frustration. “Think about it, Quin. Those kids were counting on us. And we almost failed them. If Lauren hadn’t gone for help, if Sir Lief Stoneheart and his knights hadn’t shown up, we’d be dead. The children would still be in captivity, still suffering under those monsters.” He slammed his fist against the bench. “That’s on me. I wasn’t strong enough to protect them.”
Quin sat beside him, the weight of Zach’s words sinking in.
“I don’t regret killing those bastards,” Zach continued, his voice low and fierce. “They deserved it. What I regret is being powerless to finish the fight on my own. I swore an oath to protect, and I couldn’t see it through without help.”
Quin nodded slowly, understanding Zach’s pain. “You’re not wrong. We were outmatched. But Zach, that’s why we’re here—to grow stronger. We didn’t fail; we succeeded, even if we needed help. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Zach grunted, his frustration still palpable. “I just don’t want to feel this helpless again. Next time, I’ll be stronger. I have to be.”
Quin placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “I all feel the same way. But we’ll get there together. That’s why we have each other.”
Zach’s tense posture eased slightly, and he gave a slight nod. “Thanks, Quin.”
Quin stood, offering a small smile. “I’ll let you get back to training. Take it easy, though. You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead.”
Zach smirked faintly. “Easy’s not in my vocabulary.”
As Quin left the training grounds, he felt a deep respect for Zach’s conviction. They were all grappling with the events of the previous day in their own way, but Zach’s determination was something they could all learn from.
Quin wandered the halls of the Temple of Strategos, his expression growing more puzzled with each passing minute. Cal wasn’t in his room, the training grounds, or the mess hall. He wasn’t even in the church. Quin stopped a passing priest, a kindly older man with a serene smile, and asked, “Have you seen Callivan Dutcher?”
The priest paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Where have you checked, young Acolyte?”
Quin listed the places he’d already searched. The priest’s smile widened. “Ah, then you should check the children’s wing. Cal spends much of his time there, reading to the children that reside in the temple. He has a way of bringing the stories to life.”
Quin blinked, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t known this about Cal. It was a side of his friend he’d never seen before. “Thank you,” Quin said, inclining his head.
Following the priest’s directions, Quin made his way to the wing of the temple that housed children while their parents went about their daily duties. As he approached, he heard the soft murmur of Cal’s voice carrying through the corridor. When he entered, he found Cal seated in a sturdy wooden rocking chair, a book open in his lap. Children of varying ages were sprawled on cushions at his feet, their wide eyes fixed on him as he read aloud.
Cal’s voice was warm and animated, his tone shifting with each character. The children were utterly captivated, giggling at the funny parts and leaning forward during the tense moments. The sight of his usually stoic friend bringing such joy to these kids warmed Quin’s heart.
Not wanting to interrupt, Quin leaned against the doorway and waited. Cal’s gaze flicked up momentarily, catching sight of Quin. He offered a slight nod and finished the chapter before closing the book with a soft thump.
“All right, everyone,” Cal said, his voice gentle but firm. “Break time, I need a few minutes.”
A chorus of groans rose from the children, but Cal chuckled. “Just a moment, I promise.” He stood, leaving the book on the chair, and walked over to Quin.
“Didn’t expect to find me here, did you?” Cal said with a smirk.
“Not at all,” Quin admitted. “I didn’t know you did this.”
Cal shrugged, his smirk softening into a smile. “It helps me relax. And these kids… well, everyone deserves to learn through a good story.” He gestured for Quin to follow him a few steps away from the group.
“How are you doing?” Quin asked.
“I’m recovering,” Cal said simply. “But what about you?”
“I prayed,” Quin replied honestly. “And it helped.”
Cal’s smile grew. “Good. I did the same.” He glanced back at the children and then back at Quin. “When I start to feel bad about what we did, I think about them. About the children we saved. They’ll have a future now because of us. That makes it worth it.”
He reached out and patted Quin on the shoulder. “It’s like the Book of Ideals says: Sacrifice. Be willing to give up everything, even your life, for the greater good. The light demands not just devotion but the understanding that the world’s welfare comes before your own.”
Quin nodded slowly, the weight of Cal’s words settling over him. “I know we did the right thing,” he said. “But it’s still going to take time to recover.”
“It will,” Cal agreed, his voice steady. “For all of us. But we’ll get through it.”
With that, Cal gave Quin a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a dragon to slay. The kids will revolt if I don’t finish the story.”
Quin chuckled and slapped him on the arm. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
As Quin left, he felt a little lighter. Cal’s unwavering resolve and the quiet joy he brought to those children were a testament to the strength they all aspired to have. Thanks to their actions, more children could partake in the joys of childhood while in a safe location away from those looking to take advantage of them.
Quin made his way to the Temple of Purity, his steps purposeful but not hurried. He was eager to see Lauren and confirm she was okay after he had left her behind in Vistow. At the Outreach building, he approached the desk and politely requested for a runner to fetch her.
“She will probably be in the Compound of Alaria,” the priestess at the desk said before gesturing for a young acolyte to run off. Quin stepped back and waited.
Approximately a half hour later, Lauren appeared, her figure framed in the doorway. Despite the tiredness etched into her features, she carried herself with her usual grace. Her robes were pristine, her hair tied back into a simple braid that only accentuated her natural beauty. In her hands, she carried a leather-bound book, its edges beginning to wear with age.
“Quin,” she greeted, her voice soft but warm. A smile tugged at her lips despite the faint shadows under her eyes.
“Lauren,” Quin replied, stepping forward. “How are you holding up?”
She chuckled lightly and shook her head. “I should be asking you that question,” she said. “You’re the one who had to fight for your life and the lives of others. All I did was run for help.”
Quin waved her comment aside. “What you did was just as important. Without you, Lief and the others wouldn’t have come, and we wouldn’t have made it out of there.” He studied her closely. “But you look tired.”
Lauren sighed, her smile fading slightly. “A little,” she admitted. “It’s just been a lot to take in.” She tilted her head. “But really, how are you? After everything that happened?”
“I’m fine now,” Quin said. “Prayer hIped. So did checking in on the others. Everyone’s holding up in their own way.”
Lauren nodded, her expression softening. “That’s good to hear.”
Quin hesitated for a moment before asking, “How did everything proceed after I left? With the Knights and Vistow?”
Lauren’s face fell slightly, her fingers tightening on the leather-bound book she carried. “Maybe we should talk about that somewhere more private.”
Quin’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. “All right.”
She led him out of the Outreach building and toward the gardens behind the Temple of Purity. The familiar sight of the tranquil space brought a sense of calm. These gardens had become a sanctuary for them—a place where they had shared countless conversations and moments, even before their romantic relationship had been made official.
The flowers were in full bloom, their vibrant colors contrasting against the soft greens of the grass and hedges. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying with it the faint, soothing scent of lavender and jasmine.
Lauren guided him to a secluded bench nestled beneath an archway of flowering vines. “Here,” she said, gesturing for him to sit.
Quin took a seat, his gaze on her as she set the book down beside her and joined him. “What happened?” he asked softly.
Lauren sighed deeply, her tired eyes meeting his. “It’s… complicated.”