Before the first light of dawn, Naruku was still scrawling 'I am a thief' for the thousandth time. Her fingers ached, blistered and trembling, stained with black ink that had long since seeped into her skin. It was a minor spell cast by the Prefect as punishment—one that forced her to keep writing, over and over, exactly what he commanded. Her hand wouldn’t stop, no matter how much it throbbed or how badly she wanted it to. This punishment was ordered from what Naruku knew to be a cruel injustice but she had no choice. Her Prefect was convinced she had stolen the Urn of Tashiyaki, the sacred relic of a Prefect who once sealed away dark forces through his own sacrifice. As a result, she’d been suspended from all classes, forced into silence, and told that if there had been any witnesses, she’d be whipped. Thankfully, there weren’t.

  But the worst part?

  She hadn’t even been at the Temple at the time the Urn disappeared.

  And she couldn’t say that either. Admitting where she truly was would earn her whipping all the same.

  However, Naruku was determined to uncover who had truly stolen the relic—if not for justice, then at least for revenge. She had her suspicions, but nothing solid. Living in a temple, which housed over a hundred students was challenging, even more so when you didn’t have many friends. Or any, really.

  As she scribbled down her last sentence, her quill finally allowed her to put it down, and she sighed loudly in relief. For few moments she just stared at the words, and couldn’t help but feel ashamed, even though she knew she wasn’t at fault. The fact that the Prefect believed her capable of such a crime stung more than she expected. Yes, trouble seemed to follow her everywhere, but stealing—especially something sacred—was unthinkable. Not even in her darkest dreams would she dare to attempt such violation.

  As she waited for the ink on the notebook—now filled with those damning words—to dry, a sharp gust of wind howled through the cracks in the stone walls. It slammed against the windows so fiercely, Naruku was sure it would wake her roommates. But they remained asleep. Drawn by the noise, she stepped to the window. The sky outside churned with dark, storming clouds, heavy with something more than just rain. Then she saw them. Shadows moving fast. People were hurrying through the temple grounds, their silhouettes blurred in the dim light.

  Naruku narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what the Prefects and Handkeepers were doing. They were all moving with urgency, as if something truly dangerous was approaching the Temple of Soryan. Naruku froze. A chill of dread slid down her spine as the storm swelled, wind howling like some ancient beast. The skies above the Temple churned with dark, angry clouds, and the thunder cracked loud enough to shake the stone walls.

  Below, all the Prefects stood assembled at the Temple gates, their silhouettes rigid against the stormlight, bracing for whatever was approaching. Naruku’s pulse quickened. Should she wake the others? Should they hide—run—fight? She had no idea. Panic clawed at her chest.

  But before she could react, she saw what was coming their way. Carriges. Four of them to be exact, silhouetted in the distance, slowly making their way up the path. The horses strained against the wind, neighing in distress, hooves skidding on the slick earth. Whatever or whoever they carried, it was clear they came with purpose. And the storm didn’t welcome them.

  Once the horses came to an unsteady halt, the door of the first carriage creaked open. An older woman stepped out, her presence instantly commanding, despite the storm swirling around her. Naruku’s breath caught in her throat.

  She was a Priestess—no, the High Priestess. Naruku recognized the robes instantly: deep indigo layered with embroidered constellations in silver thread, a flowing mantle trimmed with feathers from the sacred Korynth bird—a creature said to appear only to those chosen by the divine. The fabric shimmered faintly, as if woven with stardust, and around her neck hung the Veyara Sigil, a sun-and-moon medallion symbolizing balance between life and death.

  This was High Priestess Eloryn of the Veyara Order, guardian of the ancient rites and the only one known to speak directly to Hosts.

  Her eyes swept over the Temple with a gaze that weighed worth — as if deciding whether the place deserved her presence at all. Everyone bowed low, and the Handkeepers remained prostrate while the Prefects spoke hurriedly to the Priestess.

  Naruku couldn’t make out what was being said. For a moment, she considered cracking the window open, but the storm outside howled with such fury that even the smallest sound might wake her roommates. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Then, the Priestess’s eyes found hers.

  Naruku froze. The sudden jolt of connection startled her so badly she stumbled back, knocking over a clay vase that shattered into thousand sharp pieces on the floor.

  Her roommates shot upright, groggy and irritated.

  “What the hell are you doing, Naruku?” one of them snapped, rubbing her eyes.

  “I—I’m sorry, it’s just—”

  “What is happening out there?” the eldest girl in the room—Tasha—cut her off, her voice sharp with confusion as she noticed the scene unfolding outside the Temple.

  The Priestess still stood before the Prefects, her expression unreadable, but distinctly unimpressed.

  “Is that…?”

  “High Priestess Eloryn of the Veyara Order,” someone whispered.

  “What is she doing here—blessing the mud?”one girl quipped. A few girls chuckled, trying to muffle it behind their sleeves.

  “Why are they standing outside during such weather?”

  “This weather is insane.”

  “Should we come outside?”

  “And do what? Greet the high priestess? This is obviously none of our business.”

  “Still… she came at this hour. Whatever’s happening might become our business.”

  Tasha suddenly turned to Naruku, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

  “What did you see, Naruku? Why is she here?”

  “I—I have no idea,” Naruku stammered.

  “Oh, come on,” another girl said, her tone laced with suspicion. “You must’ve seen or heard something. Don’t pretend you just happened to be at the window.”

  Just as Naruku opened her mouth to speak again, an unexpected movement outside stole everyone's attention. All eyes turned to the window. The carriage doors swung open, and a procession of priestesses stepped out, their robes billowing in the storm.

  "Why are they all here?" someone whispered, the question hanging heavy in the air.

  The young priestesses moved in perfect synchrony, their ceremonial robes soaking instantly under the relentless downpour. Still, they bowed low before the Prefects and took their place behind the High Priestess, standing with eerie calm despite the storm lashing around them.

  “They must be freezing,” someone murmured, eyes wide.

  “Won’t they get sick?” another whispered, voice tinged with concern.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tasha scoffed. “They’re priestesses, not porcelain dolls.”

  “Yeah, but even priestesses can catch a cold,” someone else muttered, earning a few quiet chuckles.

  The group leaned closer to the window, watching as thunder cracked overhead, casting fleeting light across the High Priestess’s stoic face.

  “What could be so important to bring them here in this weather?” Naruku asked under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.

  Tasha crossed her arms, still watching. “Whatever it is… I have a feeling it’s about to change everything.”

  And just as Tasha said that, Prefects stepped aside in unison, their movements deliberate and respectful. The heavy iron gates groaned open, and the priestesses swept through the entrance like a silent tide, their drenched robes trailing behind them like shadows on the stone floor.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  A strange hush fell over the room, even among the girls at the window. It was as if the storm itself paused to acknowledge the significance of their arrival.

  “They’re inside,” Naruku whispered, breath catching in her throat.

  “Do you think someone died?” one of the younger girls asked, wide-eyed.

  “No,” Tasha said, voice low, “this feels… bigger.”

  At the center of the procession, High Priestess Eloryn moved like a figure carved from starlight and marble, unaffected by the rain, her long silver robes clinging to her like second skin. The silver crest of the Veyara Order glinted faintly at her chest — a circle flanked by twin wings, with a drop of crimson embroidered at its core.

  She didn’t look left or right. But Naruku could have sworn she felt her gaze — sharp as a blade — cut through the stone walls and find her.

  “We should go back to sleep. Before they catch us spying.,” someone suggested half-heartedly.

  But no one moved.

  Because deep down, they all knew: sleep wouldn’t come easy after this.

  ????

  A loud, echoing gong reverberated through the stone walls of the dormitory, jolting the girls awake. Naruku blinked groggily, disoriented—she hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. Judging by the bleary, startled expressions of her roommates, she wasn’t the only one.

  Heavy footsteps approached, each one growing louder in the corridor until they stopped just outside their door. It was the handkeepers—stern, sharp-eyed women tasked with keeping order in the student quarters. Every morning, without fail, they would burst in at the strike of the gong, inspecting beds for perfectly folded corners, floors for specks of dust, and wardrobes for signs of chaos. Only after their silent nod of approval were the girls permitted to leave for breakfast.

  But this morning was different.

  The air felt tense, thick with something unspoken. The footsteps didn’t carry the usual rhythm of routine—they felt urgent. Purposeful. As if the day had already begun without them, and they were waking into something much bigger than a checklist and lukewarm porridge.

  The air was tense but not with the usual fear of being scolded for laziness or a poorly folded bed. This tension was different. It was the kind that came with uncertainty, like the hush before a storm or the moment before a verdict is passed. A waiting period for something inevitable. Something final.

  Naruku didn’t want to be dramatic, but the presence of the priestesses couldn’t mean anything good. Not that the priestesses themselves were dangerous—they were protectors, revered and trusted. But that was the problem.

  If the protectors had come seeking shelter… then who was left to protect?

  Even the Handkeeper was tense. Naruku could feel it in the way she moved, brisk and distracted. She rushed through the inspection, barely registering Layla’s sock poking out from under the mattress, despite the girl's feeble attempt to hide it. She didn’t notice how wrinkled Naruku’s sheets were, or the small shard of broken vase still wedged in the corner from last night.

  She did scold the youngest—Katchya—but it felt more out of habit than anything else. Everyone knew the little one never got the bedclothes folded right, and today she hadn’t even had the chance to ask for help.

  After finishing her inspection, the Handkeeper stepped to the center of the room and clapped her hands, just like she always did. But this time, instead of the usual “You may go to breakfast,” she said,

  “Atrium. Five minutes. No tardiness will be tolerated.”

  The girls immediately exchanged glances. Confusion rippled through the room, but beneath it was a shared certainty — this had everything to do with last night.

  Naruku felt the familiar flicker of anxiety stirring in her chest. But beneath it, something else pulsed — excitement. Maybe, finally, they’d find out why the priestesses had come.

  As soon as the door clicked shut behind the Handkeeper, the room exploded into motion and murmured theories and whispers darting between half-buttoned uniforms and hurried braids, speculations about what was coming, and what exactly had happened while they all slept.

  Naruku knew things had been stirring — especially in the Karayaki Woods. Shadow-like creatures had begun roaming across Tharion, slipping in through the portals that had started opening at random. Gateways to other realms, cracks in reality itself. And that was why the priestesses existed in the first place — to guard the portals, to keep those horrors out, and protect the people of Tharion.

  It was also why Summoners existed. People like Naruku had dreamed of becoming one day — someone who could fight, defend, or command creatures from other realms.

  So perhaps the arrival of the Priestesses did make sense. Perhaps they needed reinforcements because something bigger was coming through.

  As Naruku hurried toward the Atrium, weaving between half-dressed girls and frantic whispers, a sharp jolt caught her off guard. Her foot snagged and she stumbled forward, hitting the cold stone floor with her palms.

  Laughter snickered behind her.

  When she looked up, all she saw was Tasha’s smug smirk.

  “Better watch your steps, thief,” she said sweetly, her voice oozing false concern.

  Of course Tasha used yesterday’s incident to mock her.

  Naruku swallowed down the sting, forcing herself to get up without a word. Her hands throbbed, her pride stung, but she refused to give Tasha the satisfaction of a reaction.

  From behind her, someone muttered, “Ignore her,” but Naruku didn’t turn to see who.

  The corridor buzzed with anxious energy, everyone moving faster now. The air seemed thicker, like it was holding its breath.

  The girls quickly formed a line opposite the boys, who, as always, were loud and chaotic—bickering over who should stand where, who was taller, who had better aim or sharper swordplay. Their voices rose in competitive bravado, echoing through the vast chamber.

  But all the noise died the moment the gong sounded again, a deep, resonant boom that vibrated in their chests.

  Master Tori stepped into the room, his presence commanding silence. And beside him, draped in the unmistakable robes of power and grace, walked the High Priestess Eloryn.

  “Dear students,” Master Tori began, his voice carrying with practiced authority. “We are gathered here to announce that, for the time being, the priestesses of the Veyara Order will be residing at the Temple of Soryan.”

  A murmur passed through the room, but he raised a hand, silencing it.

  “As some of you may have noticed, last night’s storm was no ordinary one. The Temple of Veyara suffered significant damage—rendered uninhabitable. Until repairs are made, the priestesses will be our honored guests.”

  The announcement sent a wave of unease rippling through the room. Students shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uncertain glances. And while Master Tori’s face remained composed, the High Priestess seemed quietly pleased by the discomfort. Her gaze swept the room like a blade—sharp, deliberate, dissecting.

  When her eyes landed on Naruku, it was like a punch to the gut. Naruku froze, her breath catching in her throat. The woman wasn’t just looking at her—she was seeing her. Through her. As if peeling back skin and thought to glimpse something buried far deeper.

  Master Tori cleared his throat, his tone shifting to something firmer. “That being said… there will be several new rules effective immediately.”

  He paused to let the murmurs settle.

  “Sixteen priestesses are now guests of this temple. You will obey them and assist them in whatever tasks they require. They are to be shown the utmost respect. Some of them will be placed among your living quarters—so mind your words, and your behavior.”

  A small gasp rippled through the students. Naruku’s brows furrowed. Sixteen? The Veyara Order was known to house forty priestesses. It was the largest order in all of Tharion. So where were the others?

  Were they sent to other temples… or did something happen to them?

  She didn’t like how her stomach twisted at the thought.

  “The Great Hall,” Master Tori continued, “will be off-limits to students from this day forward. It is now reserved solely for the priestesses and their ceremonial rites. Do not enter it for any reason.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the weight of that command settled over them.

  “And yes,” he added, clearly anticipating the loopholes already being drafted in the minds of his resourceful students, “that includes curious eyes, listening at doors, or sneaking around after dark. The rites performed are sacred. Violation of this rule will result in immediate disciplinary action.” His gaze scanned the boys’ line pointedly.

  A few of them glanced away, suddenly interested in their boots.

  The High Priestess remained silent beside him, her presence a thundercloud waiting to strike. Her silver-etched robes shimmered faintly in the lantern light, eyes still prowling the crowd like she was cataloging souls.

  “High Priestess, do you have anything to add?” Master Tori asked, turning his gaze toward her.

  A faint smile stretched across her otherwise impassive, stone-carved face.

  “Yes,” she said smoothly, her voice calm but commanding. “You may think of us as guests, but do not expect leniency for your hospitality.”

  A ripple of unease moved through the students.

  She stepped forward, her robes whispering against the marble floor. “The world beyond these walls is shifting. What once was safe, no longer is. And what once slept, has begun to stir.”

  Her silver-ringed eyes swept across the room, lingering once again on Naruku, who felt her spine straighten under the weight of that gaze.

  “We are here to serve and protect,” the High Priestess continued. “But we are also here to observe.”

  That last word hung in the air like a warning. Or a threat.

  The hall fell into an uneasy silence, only broken by the faint sound of the wind outside, still whispering of storms.