The morning of my contrition was a little more sour than vinegar. Sourer? Manual labor would mark the start of my new daily routine when I entered the solarium. A morning sun showered me in beams of morning light. Vivid pvergrowth lined much of the old walls with a serene and glistening green. I welcomed natural decorations for my punishment.
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Now, there is no word of power can make a rag sweep the room on its own. I know; I’ve searched. Which meant, I would be slaving away with no respite. An unwelcome drag, to be sure.
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There was a very peculiar statuette of the goddess Sofia on the shelf overlooking Serrina’s desk. What business does a goddess have with such a perfect figure? I thought. In her hand, she held a replica of the sun, extending it askance as if to drop light on some downtrodden soul. Then some books. John Crezbel’s A history of Teutonic Crises, A Catalogue of Trinity Shrines, How to Affect Arcane Penance Volume 13. As I crawled on the floor, brushing a wet rag against any and all surfaces, I contemplated whether the priestess knew anything about life outside the Ecclesiarchy.
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I would be affecting cleanliness for the next few hours; surely, I had more interesting things to think about.
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Through my valiant efforts, the class had eventually gone from a nice and tidy room to a cleaner, nice, and tidy room. The bookshelf was free of dust, and the memory vase was void of blemishes. But to think it would be as easy as that was foolish! Lux, you damned fool. "Pollux," Serrina beckoned from her table collection. "Would you care to join me in a recitation?" Me? Oddly, the request was more serene than her typical tone.
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"Aha!"
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She blinked in confusion. "Is that your way of saying yes?"
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"Yes." My teeth tried to smile, but my lips quivered.
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Serrina motioned me toward the desk opposite the throne from which she orated daily holy lessons. "Take your seat,” she admonished. Always, since the very first day of class, she ignored the circumstances that made me a weakling in everyone’s eyes. Never the special treatment or single word of pity. To her, I was Pollux. To me, she was strange. So, I awkwardly grabbed the seat and sluggishly dragged it closer to the ornamented desk until we were opposites. She was so young, yet I got the sense that she was younger than she looked. And she didn’t waste any time.
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"What are your aims, miss Pollux?"
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A broad question. "To be a Magister," I replied, without much thought.
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"To what end?" she prodded.
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"Umm..." What could I say? What did she expect me to say? Maybe, it was a matter of choosing my words carefully. The way she sat there, stone-like, sipping hot tea out of a wooden cup... Those green eyes were scarier than they were fierce; indifference belied them; devotion cleared them. "I suppose I would use my magic toward good deeds," I told her.
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"Good deeds. Such as?"
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Gods, it felt like an interrogation. “I might take up monster-slaying." I hope that did not sound sarcastic.
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"I see..." Another sip of tea. "Well then, it sounds as if thou hath made up thy mind. Nevertheless, it would be remiss to neglect the Chant in pursuit of the arcane, Miss Lux.”
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"It's not like that..." Per se.
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"Then, how do you intend to channel thy affinity?"
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I had stopped to ponder. "I don't really know, honestly. I didn’t know I had a holy affinity."
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"No time like the present to plan, yes? Not everything noble is championed by willing participants. Fate is funny that way, and it is also a course to be explored. You may learn, to your surprise, ‘that fate is filled with duty and sinister jests. You may find comfort where you may not succeed, and you may succeed far away from the embrace of fortune, the comfort of friends and family… familiar things that fill the morrow with glee.
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“You are young, with a long future, but every action ripples beyond reach. More than we can guess. 'Tis why we of the Chant tender our fate to the Seven. If you lend your fate to Them, you may make Sister Adept in due course. No promise of fun or the familiar, but at least no wasted ripples."
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I saw this coming. Serrina was a Cinderfall teacher but still a priestess. "I'm flattered that you think so, mum. I know I can partake of the communion, but my heart was set on becoming a magister long before I came to Cinderfall."
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"Such is fate." She stood up with the poise of a statue.
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"Hmm?" I was confused.
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"We are neither here for for a debate nor an assessment. I simply sought reassurance for myself... Go with the gods, that they may free thee of doubt and a foul mouth." She had this immature smirk I thought no person of the cloth was capable of.
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"Umm, okay,” I said through awkward, smiling teeth. “Good afternoon, Priestess." I rose cautiously, and for every foot on the newly cleaned stairs, I felt the extra weight of her gaze.
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***
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