Calahendra, the spiritual Keeper of the Oracle Temple, serenely watched her latest visitor from above. He remained unaware of her ephemeral presence hovering at the ceiling while he navigated the three Daises of Communion within the temple’s vast, underground central chamber. The interplay of light through her transparent body reflected back as a shimmering, blue-violet gown against her silvery-white skin before trailing off invisibly upon reaching her feet. The ends of her long, straight, stark-white hair seemingly danced in a constant, light breeze.

Smiling slightly and nodding approvingly, she watched his meticulous gestures of devotion to the three Harmonies overseeing the Past, Present, and Future. What was his name again? Oh, yes, Nalen, he had said. Clearly, he had read up on temple etiquette and expectations, so she had not needed to present herself. Having completed Communion with Cenestene, Harmony of Body, on the Dais of the Past, he now moved onward to the Dais of the Present.

Two different sensations informing her of a large number of people arriving onto the temple grounds from both the north and the west interrupted her supervision. Diffusing her attention outward, she recognized a contingent of soldiers in measured march were coming from the north, while a smaller group floated via magic from the west. From that smaller group, Calahendra distinctly felt a cold, antithetic sense of evil.

Instantly, Calahendra deduced that both the temple and its occupants faced a very real and terrible danger, and she gave Nalen a concerned glance. Now amid the Communion of the Present with Silmarrah, Harmony of Heart, his body and spirit currently levitating and glowing with a soft, rosy light, she would be blocked from interrupting him.

Seeking divine assistance, she flew down to the final Dais to invoke a Communion of the Future with Ascadel, Harmony of Mind. Urgently praying for guidance for her situation, her mind was immediately enveloped in a cool, tingling sensation in response. A soothing voice began to speak to her, and elegant tones of stringed instruments faintly echoed the voice in pleasing harmonies.

“Dearest and beloved Calahendra, do know that the light of Veladris will soon retreat from this temple. Fear not, for much like the sun, He shall one day illumine its halls once again. Meanwhile, you must remain attached to the temple at temporary personal cost until Veladris can shine within once more.

“Do allow the armies to fight each other until only the mages remain. You will be in gravest danger once the dark scholars of Morandrin breach the central dais chamber. You will have one chance, one chance only, to alter their ritual spell from consuming you and avoid complete destruction. In adherence with the divine accords of the Silver Oasis, we are not allowed to advise you what to do or how or when; you must act on your own.

“We can, however, reiterate our instructions to you from the first moment you were given the temple as your charge: Welcome all visitors to this temple, and make them comfortable, doing what you can to keep order and reverence toward and from the supplicants even if several arrive at once.

“Our love will be with you always, child, even while you can no longer feel it. Veladris shall preserve you; have faith.” 

As the voice and sensation both faded, so did the silver light of Communion surrounding Calahendra. Steeling herself for the impending conflict, she vowed to preserve Nalen. The moment his Communion was over, she materialized before him and spoke his name softly. Though his eyes widened with surprise, he did not flee, and he simply nodded in response. “You must be the Temple guide. At the end of my vision, Silmarrah told me that you would come to me,” he said.

Calahendra nodded and gave a slow blink of affirmation. “Indeed, I am. I do apologize; there is no time for you to conduct your Communion of the Future before danger arrives. The only physical exit is via the stairs to the main entry level, but attackers are coming that way. Two groups fight above us now. The victors will be here soon to bring further destruction. I have been forewarned that Veladris shall be severed from this sacred place.”

Just then, violent fighting erupted on the floor above. The temple rocked with the intermittent bursts of magical energy being released, and guttural cries of mortally wounded men echoed down the stairs in staccato succession. Cascades of dust poured from the ceiling, some of which filtered through Calahendra’s form to settle on Nalen’s shoulders and hair. A horn sounded, causing them to lock gazes a moment while its call reverberated through the stonework all around.

Calahendra instructed, “Quickly, come with me. Not every egress is physical.”  She floated to the larger, center circle connecting to each of the three Daises of Communion, traced alephs of power with her fingertips in the air, and completed a spell that opened a hidden compartment in the floor. A minute, golden pyramid of light drifted upward from within the opening. It hovered at chest height to Nalen, and it shifted and gyrated to create an effect of nine vertices of light. A holographic flame flickered within its perfect center, and a wash of calm and resolve flowed through both of them and cleared their minds.

An expression of awe overcame Nalen, and Calahendra reassuringly answered his unspoken question. “Irindel’s Star. The only holy artifact of pure light that currently exists. I shall use it to convey you to safety. Think wholly on where you must go to be safe, and I can focus power through the Star to send you there. The pure light of Veladris will convey you more quickly and accurately if you can recall a sanctified place.”

Nalen nodded. “Understood. I have just the destination. Coming with me?”

Calahendra shook her head and explained, “No, for I must remain here, as I am an integral part of this temple. Nor could I were it possible; I don’t have sufficient power to create two spells of unanchored transport so quickly through the artifact. Do what you can to begin hiding the manuscripts describing this place; I fear that any future pilgrim will be met only with peril and misery.”

Nalen gave her his acceptance of the task with tender gratitude. “Oh. I am deeply sorry. I hate to leave you to this. Yes, I shall undertake to do so. I thank you, and Veladris preserve you. I am ready.”

Pausing before answering, she whispered reassuringly to herself, “He will.”

As the sounds of the conflict above ceased, Calahendra heard footsteps approaching the stairway leading to the Communion chamber. She began her spell by drawing several alephs in the air and then softly spoke other alephs out of Nalen’s hearing.

Bathed in increasingly brilliant, golden light from the Star, and eyes further widening in alarm, Nalen pointed at the oncoming group of mages as Calahendra completed the spell. He vanished in a sudden plume of blinding light from the Star, and Calahendra received a momentary, mental image of a spartan, general-purpose shrine to all the divinities in a rustic chapel somewhere west-northwest. For a few seconds, the massive drain of energy from Nalen’s transport spell made her otherworldly appearance even fainter, lasting until she could refocus to her normal, visual existence. A volley of fire bolts, jagged dagger shards, and lightning arcs originated from the staircase and flew across her position. Their blade points and energy harmlessly passed through her ethereal form to strike the opposite, marbled walls of the chamber.

Calahendra could not risk being stopped before sealing away the artifact. She ignored their approach and clutched at a perfect pearl that hung on a silver neck chain and rested under the bosom of her ephemeral gown. Crushing it, she spoke a single word of power to activate it, and a large, opaque sphere of white energy formed around her. She signed yet another sequence of alephs, similar to but in reverse of her earlier sequence, and the holy artifact receded to its compartment below the floor. The floor rematerialized seamlessly over it. Various attack spells landed against her conjured shield, and she could sense its strength depleting, but, praise Veladris, it held true until well after the sacred task was done.

Unable to see through her shield, she became suspicious once there were no further attacks. Uncertain what to expect, she prepared herself for a swift, local teleportation. In a moment’s thought, she dispelled her shield and transferred her form through the ceiling to reach the floor above. What she saw there transfixed her immediately. Wide-eyed and momentarily frozen in mournful contemplation by the horror she discovered around her, she recuperated a small bit from the additional drain on her power reserves.

The bodies of a contingent of troops and its commanding warlord lay strewn about the main temple reception room. Pools and fountains ringing the temple floor flowed scarlet with their blood. Scorch marks marred every wall, the ceiling, and floor. A small hole had even pierced the stone dome just above its supporting wall in one spot. An ivory and gold war horn lay partially crushed against the foot of the bloodied, copper statue of Cenestene, and Ascadel’s hollow porcelain statue now stood headless. The triangular altar of Veladris had been thoroughly desecrated: A corpse lay atop the altar, impaled upon it by a sword, and amid the rivulets of blood draining downward from it, a crude rendering of the profane symbol of Morandrin had been scratched. Only Silmarrah’s oiled sculpture of polished wood remained unscathed.

Though not an air-breathing creature, Calahendra sighed heavily, mimicking the mortal habit that expressed her mood. Slowly descending back through the temple’s stonework to watch the mages in the vaulted chamber below, she peered from one of the walls, her eyes barely visible, while her form remained hidden within. 
The mages had arranged themselves outside the central dais, and they were now conducting a ritual. She carefully watched their spell alephs. They seemed to be summoning something, but some of the alephs appeared warped and unrecognizable. Initially half-expecting a demonic gate to the hells of Morandrin to spring open, she was alarmed to learn what they truly called forth: her!

A magical net enveloped Calahendra, teleported her out of her position, and rematerialized her into the central circle. Newly-inscribed with a simple set of previously unseen alephs, they formed an impermeable barrier. They now lit up in an ominous dark orange and slowly throbbed in unison. She felt a gradual sapping of her reservoir of magical power; its normal recharge rate was suspended. Her half-physical, half-spiritual state could no longer benefit her, and she would soon lack enough energy to save herself. She had a momentary lapse of confidence with the thought that oblivion might take her.

No! She reminded herself that she must hold faith in Veladris. Taking support from her last Communion with Ascadel, she took a symbolic, deep breath, exhaled it, and awaited the showdown. She committed to finding her one chance to save herself, and she prayed to Veladris and the three Harmonies to help her to find that chance in time.

One of their number wore a silver satin robe embroidered in black and crimson whorls, and he held an overwhelmingly powerful staff that exuded a nettling, hateful energy that set her senses on edge. The others wore muted grey with black embroidery and held ordinary wizards’ staves. Calahendra surmised that this artifact must have been what she felt earlier when the mages had entered the grounds. As the man in silver strode forth to address her, she wondered whether he controlled the staff, or did it control him?

“Spirit of this temple, you are something of a surprise, but nothing that cannot be handled. We realize we won’t have access to the powers this temple grants its pilgrims, but neither can we have anyone upset our plans. It must come down, and we shall drain the energy sustaining it for our own uses. Your energy will also be ours too, I believe. Perhaps you can guarantee your own safety if you release to us that fascinating … was it … globe of light. Quite possibly, that is the very fuel to this temple that we seek. We could simply take it and leave you and the structure unviolated.”

“Not likely,” Calahendra softly and surely defied him.

“Ah. Pity. Well, I have work to do then.” He turned to the other mages. “Let us be—Hm. I have a better idea.” He turned back to Calahendra. “You. I can still use you. Senior Hierarch Lavindi, come here.” One of the others, a male with a tight goatee barely becoming salted with age, approached and knelt before the speaker. “You would enjoy immortality, like this creature, would you not?”

Lavindi nodded with a smile forming as he replied, “Yes, Grand Hierarch, of course.”

“I thought as much. You have set many plans in motion. Have you not? And you feel it would be good to see them all through to the end, I imagine.”

Lavindi’s smile faded, and he began to stammer. “Uh, I do not know what you me- could mean, my Esteemed Hierarch.”

The Grand Hierarch smiled without warmth. “I’m sure you do. Well, this is your lucky day! I have been perfecting a new spell, and this is an ideal opportunity to try it in practical use. You should enjoy a new perspective, as well as an increased lifespan of sorts, I imagine.” The smile widened, as did its frostiness. Calahendra’s eyes narrowed with certain suspicion that this would not end well for Lavindi. There was a faint but obvious rustle of robes as one of the other mages shifted uncomfortably.

“Th-thank you, Grand Hierarch,” Lavindi mumbled. He now stared at the Grand Hierarch’s feet, unable to look upward on his own volition.

The Grand Hierarch continued instructing his follower, “I require your cooperation for about five seconds. Look into my eyes.” Lavindi looked upward, and his gaze locked with that of the Grand Hierarch. With an unexpectedly deft speed, the Grand Hierarch lashed out with a dagger hidden in his free hand. Miniature alephs glowed sickly yellow along its blade edge, and the enchanted blade separated Lavindi’s head from his torso at the neck, his head falling to one side as the body slumped forward. Not a single other mage so much as flinched, apparently accustomed to such events.

Ignoring the warm blood pooling at his feet, the Grand Hierarch ordered, “Quickly, I need his brain for my enchantment! Mathris? You are skilled at this sort of thing. Expose it whole, and take great care not to nick it.”

A starkly different clean-shaven mage, pale and nervous, obediently responded, speaking a small spell that turned his finger into a short and magically sharp, bone-cleaving, scalpel-like blade. Clearly having done this before, he made several expert incisions, separating the skull into sections that soon parted and exposed the brain intact. Calahendra shook her head imperceptibly at the desecration of Lavindi’s remains. She mentally provided him a small prayer of last rites. Though an agent of Morandrin, he still deserved more than he received.

“Excellent,” the Grand Hierarch nodded approvingly. “Place his head into the circle with the spirit, but do not breach the binding alephs as you do so.”

Mathris followed the orders to the letter then returned to his original place.

“With Lavindi indefinitely indisposed, I must take over his part of the ritual. Each of you should now be prepared to do your parts, but first allow me to tie my spell for this creature to it so that they will be invoked together.” He began a sequence of alephs unrecognized by Calahendra. Once again, they appeared twisted somehow, but in a different mode than the previous alephs she witnessed. After he did several, she recognized the basis to their altered pattern: Instead of being two-dimensional, they were being drawn in three dimensions! They appeared set in a spherical space, rather than on a flat plane. Obviously, he had researched or received training in some more advanced magic than even she knew.

Once he completed his spell, he scribed a traditional aleph for linking his spell to another to be cast, instead of sealing it and allowing it to take immediate effect. The Grand Hierarch spoke to his group once again. “Let us begin. Remember to commit your spell to the ritual with the advanced joining aleph, not the simple one. We need to siphon every bit of residual energy here. Only the advanced joining aleph can handle the required magnitude of energy. I realize it takes greater time and concentration, but it is vital.”

The three colleagues all nodded in unison and began creating alephs of blackish-purple, crackling light in the air, each different from one another in structure and meaning. If Calahendra turned to face each one separately, she could watch each partially, but not all at once. Certainly, she wouldn’t be able to observe every spell and create counterspells for each! Meanwhile, her energy reserves continued to diminish. She might not even be able to cast them all, even if she could devise them.

Beginning to panic, Calahendra forced herself to remain logical and to trust her faith by recalling her Communion with Ascadel. “Make everyone comfortable,” she had advised. How would that help? “Several at once,” Ascadel had added. The only comfort Calahendra had ever used with multiple visitors was raising privacy veils as they stood on different daises, so as not to interfere with each other during an intimate moment with the higher powers.

Of course! That must be it! The privacy veils! Once invoked, only Calahendra or the committing to a Communion and reaching either acceptance or rejection from the petitioned Harmony could dissolve one. It was a sure bet that not one of them would ever consider communing with a Harmony to undo it, and they would be permanently trapped and unable to bridge their individual portion of the spell to the rest of the group’s ritual.

The limitation of the veils was that they could only encompass each Communion dais singly; she could not adjust their edges to expand beyond a particular dais border. She spun around, quickly identifying who, if anyone, was standing entirely within the defined circle of a Communion dais. She was in great luck! Two of them stood in appropriate positions: Mathris and one other. The Grand Hierarch and the last mage were not. A pity she could not include him and his accursed staff. She kept spinning, watching, and waiting until she detected what she recognized as a joining aleph. Fortune had graced Calahendra again, for this was the fourth mage that would be with the Grand Hierarch; she would be able to trap the other two before they could join their spells with him. With fully half of the ritual severed, surely it would fail!

With only a trifling exertion of her dwindling energy, she confidently invoked the privacy veils with a command word of power, and they simultaneously activated on all three daises. Curtains of soothing, opaque peach light domed over each communion dais as the force fields materialized. Both Mathris and the other mage still creating their portions of the ritual spell became trapped within them. She smiled to herself with the small victory in defense of the temple.

The Grand Hierarch momentarily tilted his head sideways, stilled his spellcasting, and frowned before glaring at her. “Clever girl. Undo it, or you will face untold pain for all eternity,” he snarled.

She bluffed with the omission of her capability, while not directly lying. “The relevant Harmony can, but only once the occupant inside is done communing with that Harmony. I am fairly sure the idea to start a communion won’t dawn on either of them, and even if it did, the Harmony would refuse to acknowledge the petition and leave them stranded, knowing why you are here.”

She used her typical lay pilgrim greeting against him. “Welcome to the Oracle Temple, and may your visit here be an enlightening one.” She smiled beatifically in triumphant euphoria, and she wanted to laugh in his face. Ultimately, however, ages of calm poise and reverence in the temple tempered her response. Instead, she remained hovering serenely in place with only her gratified smile. 

“Interesting. A shrewdly astute tactic, I suppose. You do realize you will still face untold, eternal pain. You may have ruined this ritual and denied our taking the power here, but you forget my prior spell is still readied. I have desecrated these grounds and negated its sanctified state. I will bind you to its fate. How well would you, a creature of light, fare within an unending nightmare of unholy domination that denies any connection to your maker? And, bereft of power, how will you combat the endless onslaught once I tie Lavindi’s bodiless sentience to yours?”

Calahendra now knew the true victory that her faith had wrought, and she realized that she had become indomitable. Faith was no longer merely a belief in the intangible; she had brought it to life with her own will versus the instruments of Morandrin the Adversary, and she no longer simply needed to trust in Veladris: Veladris is, was, and always will be, as shall she. Despite whatever transitory curse this mage might intend, she would endure to see Veladris return, as Ascadel had promised. This fact was immutable, not simply a hope. She had not merely triumphed over these mages; she had triumphed over her own uncertainties.

Calahendra’s thoughts echoed in her parting words, “So be it. My faith is and always shall be stronger than you, and I will still be here long after you become dust.” She stared him down, calm and assured, although she could not perceive the faint, silver aura beginning to radiate around her, her personal spiritual evolution having progressed to a new elevation.

The Grand Hierarch’s eyes narrowed to enraged slits, and he remained true to his word. He created another spell before her, one she recognized as some kind of soulic binding amid the warped alephs. Just before he sealed it with his prior spell to have them both take effect, he spoke to her directly. “Enjoy your private hell.” 

*

The further fate of Calahendra will be revealed in The Bonds of Faith and Blood book series, Volume I: Omens of Dream and Shadow, Book I: A Thread of Waking Light.