[NOTE: I have updated the chapter and changed some main ideas as I am trying to link it to the next part. Apologies!]
The heavy stone walls of the Shrine usually felt like a fortress, but this morning, they felt like a cage.
The air within the hallowed halls was thick with the scent of burning beeswax and ancient incense, yet it couldn't mask the underlying chill of dread that had settled deep within Eris's bones.
Alina, her eyes wide and darting toward the heavy oak door, didn't give her mistress a moment to process the weight of the news.
"I've got to speak the truth, milady," she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a gale.
"The two warriors are acting as though the place already belongs to them. They walk the halls as if they grew up there, as if every stone and timber was laid for their comfort. It is... it is as if the Margay Tribe is already a ghost, and they are the new life inhabiting its corpse."
Eris felt the frantic thrumming of her heart against her ribs, a wild bird beating its wings against a cage. She reached out and took hold of Alina's hand, pulling her toward the arched stone window.
Here, the sunlight spilled across the floor like pale yellow liquid silk, casting long, shadows across the room. She motioned for the maid to sit on the narrow wooden bench and sank down beside her, movements possessing a regal grace that showed no trace of the absolute terror clawing at her throat.
"Were you possibly able to find out about his plans, Alina?" Eris asked, her voice dropping to a jagged, desperate whisper. "Roy... the leader, does he have a way to persuade me? To force me to leave the sanctuary of the Shrine?"
She shivered, the temperature in the room seemingly plummeting several degrees at the mere mention of the male. She could still feel the phantom weight of his gaze from their encounter, those cold, purple eyes that had seemed to strip away all of her patience and sanity with terrifying ease.
Alina shook her head so vehemently that wisps of grey hair flew free from her tight braid, dancing around her face like cobwebs in the wind.
"We have all been guessing and guessing, milady, but not one of us has been able to come up with a single possibility. Warrior Roy holds his own counsel; he is a vault of secrets. Clarise has taken on the dangerous duty of eavesdropping on the two of them whenever she brings the amber brew to the great hall, but neither has spoken of this trickery. You would think Warrior Hudson would be curious, but they speak only of logistics and the hunt."
"Clarise is being careful, isn't she?" Eris's brow knitted with a sharp, protective concern.
"I wouldn't want her to get into trouble, or worse, because of my predicament. Roy is not to be trifled with, his mind seems...sharp."
Alina let out a small, nervous giggle that sounded out of place in the gloom. "Clarise is just as loyal to you as the rest of the staff, milady. Why, she would not hesitate to give up her life to keep you safe from Claw Kingdom. We all would."
Eris shook her head firmly, her eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce light. "I don't want her to give up her life for me. Nor you either, Alina. You take too many chances coming here. If they caught you—" She broke off, squeezing the older woman's hand.
"Though, as always, I do look forward to hearing the news from home. I appreciate your efforts more than I can say. It is the only thing keeping me sane within these silent walls."
"What other changes have they made?" Eris asked after a moment, her fingers instinctively wringing at the familiar fabric of her dress.
"They found one of the secret passageways," Alina confessed, her voice sinking even lower. "The one to the outside through the North wall. They've sealed it up real tight with heavy stone and mortar. Roy inspected the work himself, testing the seals with his own claws. It is the only one they have spotted so far, though, so the others remain our secret. For now."
Eris realised she was wringing her dress in a frantic, nervous motion. She forced herself, with great difficulty, to still her fingers, locking them together in her lap. "And my room?" she asked, her voice tight and brittle. "Which one of those bastards has claimed my bed?"
"Neither one," Alina replied, quickly interjecting before her mistress could spiral into further worry. "Warrior Roy has had the door barred personally. He has forbidden anyone from entering. When Warrior Hudson was ill with the fever, he was given your room but the moment he could stand, Roy moved him to a larger chamber in the west wing. Your room is a tomb, milady. Silent and locked."
A small, flickering smile of relief graced Eris's features, a brief respite from the storm. But the peace was shattered instantly.
The heavy oak door to the chamber burst open, the iron hinges groaning. A young healer stood there, her face ashen, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "You have to come now! Your brother is not doing well, Princess Eris. The darkness has taken him again!"
Eris and Alina paled instantly. Standing up without a second's hesitation, they followed the healer as she sprinted through the winding, torch-lit corridors of the Shrine's infirmary.
Even before they reached the room, they heard him. Timo was in a complete fit of primal rage. He was bellowing—a raw, guttural sound that seemed to make the very rafters of the Shrine shake with his agony. It wasn't the shout of a warrior; it was the cry of a soul being torn apart by its own helplessness.
Inside the room, the scene was one of pure chaos. Pillows, blankets, and a heavy brass candle from his bedside had been hurled across the room, denting the plaster. Timo was thrashing, his eyes glazed with a fevered light.
When he saw Eris come through the door, he stopped for a fleeting moment, his chest heaving in violent, up-and-down motions as he struggled to draw air into his scorched lungs.
Eris approached slowly, her heart breaking at the sight of her once-strong willed brother reduced to this, miserable and crazed. She kept her voice calm, projecting a soothing serenity she was far from feeling.
"Timo," she whispered, taking a tray of broth and medicinal tea from the trembling healer. "I am here. It's Eris. I am here to help you. Everyone in this Shrine is working for your recovery. We are all just waiting for you to walk out of these walls on your own two feet, back to the sun."
As she got closer, Timo's rage turned into a desperate, defensive retreat. He lunged for the pillows and blankets from the empty adjacent bed, hauling them over himself with frantic strength and tucking himself into a tight, suffocating cocoon. He turned his back to her, a silent wall of grief and fur.
Eris didn't stop. She walked around the bed, trying to catch his eye, trying to find the brother she knew beneath the pain. "Hey, I know that it hurts. I know the shame is a heavy weight, but you are a Prince of the Margay-"
Timo swung his arm out with a violent, uncoordinated jerk, intending only to put distance between himself and the world. He was unimpressed by her soft words; they felt like salt in a gaping wound. Intending to frighten her away, to force her to leave him to his misery, he lashed out again.
The blow was accidental but devastating. His forearm struck the tray in Eris's hands. The heavy ceramic bowl of hot broth flew upward, catching her squarely below the right eye with a sickening thud. The rest of the tray's contents; cups, spoons, and tea, clattered loudly across the stone floor in a cacophony of breaking pottery.
The room went deathly silent.
Eris stood frozen, the heat of the broth dripping down her cheek, but it was the sharp, white hot throb beneath her eye that told her the damage was done. She could already feel the skin beginning to tighten and swell; it would be a deep, ugly purple by nightfall.
"Just get out!" Timo yelled, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He was horrified, guilty that he had caused his sister physical pain on top of everything else, but the guilt only fueled his self-loathing. He just wanted to be left alone in the dark. His body was a map of fire, his temperature was soaring, and his pride was in tatters. Why wouldn't these healers understand that he wanted to leave this world behind?
Eris didn't cry. She didn't scream. She slowly reached up, wiping a stray drop of broth from her cheek, her honey-brown eyes filled with a weary, unconditional love.
"Alright, Timo," she said softly, her voice never wavering. "I shall go. But know this: when you need me, please send for me. I shall be here as fast as my feet can carry me. I love you, brother. Get well soon."
She turned, her silhouette regal even in the face of his rejection. Grabbing the sobbing Alina by the hand, she walked out of the infirmary with her head held high. Only when they were back in the hallway did she allow her hand to tremble.
"Let us go back to the room, Alina," Eris said, her voice tight with the effort of holding back tears. "I am needing a fresh set of clothes, a cold compress for this eye, and I need to hear the rest of your story. I need to know everything about what Roy is doing in Honeywood... because if my brother cannot fight for our home, I will have to find a way to do it myself."
As they walked, Eris felt the bruise beginning to pulse. It was a mark of her brother's pain, but as she thought of the Black Panther waiting for her outside the Shrine's walls, she realised it was also a reminder, she couldn't afford to run anymore.