The Promotion
Doya's POV
The Temple had not felt safe since the attack. Every corridor hummed with tension, every sound sharpened by the fear that the Forsaken might return at any moment. The guards were doubled, wards reinforced, and no one truly rested.
Slowly, the wounded began to recover. The infirmary, once crowded with groans and the coppery scent of blood, grew quieter with each passing day. Healers moved with soft efficiency, their hands smelling faintly of herbs, their whispers replacing cries of pain. I, like the other Bound who had survived, regained strength gradually, every limb stiff and sore, bruises still mottling my skin.
Today, I was finally released and no longer confined to the healer's bed. My quarters smelled of smoke and herbs that hung near the window. Pale sunlight slipped through the narrow slit, painting thin bars across the floor, burning my eyes after so many days in darkness.
The pains from the attack lingered. Strips of linen beneath my loose tunic itched and clung damply to my ribs and arm. Each movement was measured, careful, every breath a dull drumbeat in my chest. I hadn't opened my eyes for days, only yesterday had I finally woken. Even in unconsciousness, I had fought to survive, I had always been a fighter. The healers kept saying I was lucky to have made it through an injury like that.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, my head spinned slightly, my mind replayed the attack. The faint metallic scent of blood still lingered in my memory, and the echo of clashing steel haunted the edges of my thought.
A knock broke the silence. I rose too quickly, wincing as pain shot along my side, and limped to the door. The hinges creaked as I opened it. One of the Bound stood there, eyes wary.
"Doya," she said.
"Corvessa," I muttered, my voice raw.
"I heard you were released," she replied gently. "I wanted to see how you were doing."
I stepped aside wordlessly. She moved with careful grace, avoiding my injuries, and let herself in.
"I am healing," I said after a moment, my voice quiet, a bit shaky. "The worst has passed."
She nodded with her gaze steady, careful not to linger too long on the marks of my wounds. "That is good," she said, letting silence settle. Not uncomfortable, but heavy, full of unspoken memory. I clasped my hands together, unsure what words were safe.
"I was afraid," she admitted quietly.
My jaw tightened. "I know," I nodded, walking to my bedpost for support. "Good thing you weren't at the front gate."
She offered a small, careful smile. "I am glad you are still here, though."
Our eyes met, steady and unreadable. I gave a single nod.
"So am I."
She paused for a moment, as if weighing her next words, then spoke again. "I hear there will be a gathering today at the Ascend Hall. Whatever it is, you should be prepared to attend."
I said nothing. Talking felt like effort I didn't have, each word heavy on my tongue. I just stayed still, letting silence stretch between us.
After a moment, she seemed to understand. She gave a small nod, adjusted her cloak, and left, the soft click of the door closing behind her lingering in the room.
Alone, my thoughts drifted to Dana. I hoped she was alright. The emptiness of not seeing her gnawed at me. I had hoped to see her at the Ascend Hall today, since she hadn't come by. Perhaps she didn't know I'd been released.
The thought of finally seeing her pulled me from the bed. I reached for my robe, each movement dragging a sharp ache across my ribs and arm. Dressing was slow, almost impossible, every tug of fabric sending a sting through me. Still, I forced myself, wincing with each motion, determined to be ready for the gathering.
When I arrived at the Ascend Hall, the entire Sanctum was already gathered. The Bound filled the seats, many still carrying the marks of the battle on their bodies.
The Ascend sat high on their thrones, their presence commanding the hall. Kaelric's voice rang out, clear and authoritative.
"Sacuum Rael, Bound of this Sanctum!"
The hall replied in unison, a deep, resonant chant: "Sacuum Nolar!"
Silence fell immediately, heavy and expectant.
Kaelric's eyes swept across the crowd. "We are gathered today to commend the efforts of the Bound for their bravery and strength against the Forsaken attackers. Many of you have remained loyal to your duties, and today, your efforts will be acknowledged."
He paused, letting his words settle, before continuing, "Bound Doya!"
My head snapped up, startled by the call. I stepped toward the center of the hall and came to a stop before the thrones, feeling every eye on me.
Kaelric's voice dropped, sharp and deliberate. "You have never failed in fulfilling your duties. Today, your dedication will be rewarded."
A ripple of murmurs ran through the hall, whispers of excitement barely contained.
"Silence!" Ascend Seraphine's command sliced through the chatter like steel.
Kaelric continued, his tone echoing off the stone walls, carrying authority. "You are hereby promoted from Bound to High Bound of this Sanctum."
The hall erupted briefly, a tide of surprise and applause, before falling into a respectful hush. The weight of the announcement hung in the air like the calm after a storm.
Promotion. The word should have made my chest swell, yet it felt hollow. More power meant more responsibility, and the thought of carrying that burden twisted uneasily in my gut.
My eyes swept the crowd, scanning over familiar faces and voices, but I was searching for one person — Dana. I traced every corner, every cluster of figures, hoping to catch her gaze, but she wasn't there. Again and again, I searched, and again, I found only absence.
"You will be assigned to a district in the Temple to oversee, alongside High Bound Dorasmus." Kaelric's voice pulled me back to the gathering, the hall stretching around me like a cage.
A district? That hit with a weight I hadn't expected. I couldn't leave the Temple not while my district remained unattended. I felt trapped.
Others would have leapt at the chance, a position of leadership like this. They would have felt pride, excitement, ambition. But all I could think about was freedom, the chance to join Dana in her quest for the Cranium. That path, the one I wanted more than anything, now felt impossibly far. A promotion I had never asked for had become a chain.
As the chatter in the hall swelled, I remained silent. A new robe was presented to me, blue and shimmering under the hall's light. Moments later, Ascend Kaelric instructed me to step aside, toward the section reserved for the High Bound.
Then Ascend Corvath spoke, shifting the course of the gathering.
"Sacuum Rael, Bound of this Sanctum."
"Sacuum Nolar," the hall answered in unison.
Corvath's voice carried, firm and unyielding. "Since the attack on the Temple, the Forsaken who were captured have been confined to the dungeon. They have been interrogated, yet we have learned very little of their plans."
He paused for a moment then he continued.
"Most of those taken chose death over speech, proving their sole allegiance to Balshak. The few who still live have sworn themselves to silence."
At the mention of Balshak, tension rippled through the hall. Bodies stiffened. Every Bound was suddenly alert.
"Silence," Ascend Seraphine commanded. The room fell still.
Corvath continued, "This is a grave issue and must be treated as such. Those who spoke after torture confirmed that the attack was driven by their pursuit of the Guardian."
A low murmur rippled through the hall, tension rising like a held breath.
"They may attack again," Corvath went on. "We must be prepared. The Guardian has begun her journey in search of the Cranium, and we should all be ready to do our parts once the Cranium has been acquired."
My eyes widened.
The words hit harder than any blow. Dana had left. Without me.
I knew it was her mission, hers alone, but that did nothing to dull the ache. The sting settled deep in my chest, sharp and unyielding.
The discussion in the hall slowly faded from my awareness. Voices blurred, words lost their meaning. It was as though I drifted away from everything happening around me. My thoughts were fixed on Dana, circling endlessly. My chest ached. I needed her. I wanted her. And she was gone.
Eventually, the gathering came to an end. Order was kept as everyone filed out, the Ascend first, then the High Bound, and finally the Bound. The Novitiates were not permitted to attend.
I was escorted from my former quarters to a new chamber, one deemed fitting for a High Bound. The space was larger, more refined, so beautiful. Stone walls polished smooth, light pouring in through tall windows. I was told I would now have a personal attendant if I wished.
But none of it mattered.
I did not want status. Or comfort. Or honour. All I wanted was Dana. To be beside her. To protect her. Somewhere along the way, I had grown so fond of her that her safety had begun to feel like my responsibility, one I could not ignore, no matter the cost.
The day slipped past as I sat on the edge of the enormous bed, staring at nothing in particular. I barely noticed when the light began to fade, the room slowly sinking into dusk. By the time the shadows stretched across the stone floor, night had settled in fully.
A knock sounded at the door. I pushed myself up, wincing slightly, and crossed the room to open it.
Corvessa stood there, smiling wide, showing all her teeth, her eyes bright in a way that felt almost too eager.
"Congratulations!" she shrieked, clapping her hands together.
"Thanks," I muttered, the word leaving me flat and uninterested.
We had grown up together in the Temple. Shared the same halls, the same lessons, the same punishments. As children, we were inseparable, always side by side, whispering during training, sneaking glances at each other when we thought no one was watching. When we became Novitiates, it felt only natural that we stood together again.
Once, long ago, I had loved her. Or thought I did.
But somewhere along the way, that feeling faded, worn thin by time and change. And when Dana came into my life, everything shifted. The space Corvessa once occupied quietly closed, and I hadn't noticed until it was already too late.
Corvessa's feelings for me never changed. I saw it in her eyes, in the way they lingered on me a second too long. But I had grown distant, whether I meant to or not. She noticed.
Since I returned to the Temple, she had tried, time and time again, to pull my attention back to her. Small gestures. Lingering conversations. Familiar smiles meant to remind me of what we once were.
I never gave her the chance.
"Won't you invite me into your room?" she asked, lingering at the doorway, expectation written plainly on her face.
I stepped aside, giving her room to pass.
The moment she entered, her eyes lit up. "Oh… this room is beautiful," she murmured, turning slowly as if afraid it might vanish if she blinked. Then her gaze landed on the bed. "And the bed is so huge."
Before I could say anything, she crossed the room and flopped onto it, laughter bubbling out of her. "And it's so soft," she added, almost delighted.
I watched her for a moment, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. She'd always been like this, finding joy so easily, as though the world had never taught her how heavy things could be.
"I could sleep here all day," she said, sinking into the mattress, breathing in the clean scent of fresh linen, utterly at ease.
"Did you know you were going to get promoted?" she asked, still sprawled on the bed, eyes curious.
"It's not like the Ascend tells us anything now, do they?" I replied, letting the words hang, clearly meaning I had no idea.
"Well… I'm genuinely happy for you," she said, her voice softening slightly, though a shadow lingered in her tone, "but I have a feeling we'll move farther apart. You have more duties now. We won't even be on the same floor anymore."
She was right. The duties of a High Bound were far too demanding to leave any time for old friends. Since Dana's arrival at the Temple, her resentment had only grown. After every practice, she would complain, whispering to me that Dana consumed too much of my attention, leaving nothing for her.
She sat up slowly, her smile fading as her gaze drifted toward me. "You've changed," she said quietly. "You used to talk more. You used to laugh with me."
I didn't answer. My eyes lingered on the open window, the soft wind stirring the drapes.
She rose from the bed and took a step closer. "Ever since she came…" Her voice trembled, though she tried to sound casual. "It's like you stopped seeing me."
I met her eyes, the same warmth I had once known, now threaded with something else. Longing. Hurt.
"You used to look at me," she continued softly, "like I was your whole world."
My chest tightened. I stayed where I was.
She moved closer. Too close. I could feel her warmth now, hear the faint hitch in her breath. "I know you've changed," she whispered, "but I never did."
Her fingers brushed my sleeve, hesitant, trembling. "I waited for you," she admitted. "Even when you stopped waiting for me."
Before I could speak, she leaned in.
Her lips grazed mine barely there. A fleeting touch that lingered longer in feeling than in time. A breath. A heartbeat. An unspoken plea.
I stiffened. Not in fear, but restraint.
Gently, I lifted a hand and rested it against her shoulder, steady but firm, stopping her without pushing her away. I met her eyes, my voice low and controlled.
"Corvessa… don't."
Her breath shuddered. She didn't pull back right away. For a moment, she stayed there, her forehead almost touching mine, as if hoping I would change my mind.
"I just wanted to know," she murmured, pain threading through every word, "if there is still a part of you that belongs to me."
"There was," I said quietly. "Once."
The truth landed hard. On both of us.
Her voice broke. "But not anymore," she whispered. "You don't care about me anymore. And it hurts. It hurts so bad."
"Corvessa," I said softly, "it's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" she asked, searching my face. "I know what we had, Doya. You can't tell me it meant nothing."
Silence filled the room.
I remembered the temple gardens, the stolen fruit, the whispered dreams we shared as younglings. That had been real. But it belonged to another time. Another version of me.
"I didn't forget," I said at last. "We just… grew apart."
She swallowed hard, blinking quickly, as though the words cut deeper than she wanted to show. Then she forced a small laugh. "Of course we did," she said bitterly. "Well, you did."
I looked away. There was nothing I could say that wouldn't hurt her more.
She turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back at me. "Just don't forget who stood by you before she came."
And then she was gone.
The room felt colder after she left.
I felt guilty, as though I had betrayed my childhood itself. Standing alone in the room with that weight pressing down on me, I crossed to the bed and let exhaustion pull me under.
---
Weeks passed after what happened with Corvessa in my quarters. She avoided me now, and the fact that we no longer shared the same floor made it easy. I knew I had hurt her. I wanted her to be well, truly well, but I could not give her what she wanted. Not anymore.
Today, I was in the district assigned to me and High Bound Dorasmus. We sat upon two small thrones — nothing like the elevated seats of the Ascend, but thrones all the same — settling minor disputes among the villagers.
One by one, they came forward with their problems, and we offered judgement and solutions. It was a duty that felt awkward to me. All my life, I had known only combat, discipline, and silence, not conversation and mediation. Still, with time, I began to adjust to this new way of living.
Sometimes, I visited the Bound quarters. Friends I had once lived beside now bowed deeply when I passed, addressing me with formal respect. It felt strange, even painful, but it was expected. The law was the law, and familiarity did not exempt anyone from it.
As I sat on my small throne beside Dorasmus, I felt it.
A sudden strain. Sharp and dreadful. My chest tightened as though something invisible had wrapped around my heart.
Dana.
She was in trouble. I could sense it.
The hall faded. The voices blurred. Everything dissolved until there was only her fear echoing inside me.
I rose abruptly and excused myself, my movements unsteady. Dorasmus asked if I was well, his voice distant, but I couldn't answer. I only nodded and staggered out of the hall.
The strain in my chest tightened further. She was terrified. Truly terrified.
What was wrong? I thought desperately.
Her location flickered in my mind in broken fragments.
I tried to veil-walk.
The veil resisted me.
I was still healing. Weeks had passed, but my strength had not fully returned, especially not enough for something as demanding as veil-walking. I tried again, forcing the pull, and pain flared through my body.
My legs gave way, I hit the ground hard, breath knocked from my lungs.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished.
The pressure eased. My mind cleared.
I could think again.
Yet Dana lingered in my thoughts, her fear like an afterimage burned into my chest. Whatever had frightened her might return. And I would not sit idle, waiting to feel that helpless terror again.
I didn't know how I would do it.
But I knew what I had to do.
I had to leave the temple.
Leave my duties.
And go in search of Dana.