“To you, who shall follow in my footsteps – whether you are born a decade, a century, or a millennium after my death. Give your heart to Xito. Give your blood to Xito. Give your life, your passion, your honour, your desires and your regrets. Relinquish all that makes you human, all that makes you individual. The only tears you may shed are ones of joy and gratitude. Only then, may you truly be able to serve our god.

-Alleged letter of a previous chosen”

* * *

Rina

She stood on the altar and felt the stare of the people gathered in the temple. The great hall was crowded, yet it was so silent one could easily imagine it was empty. Only the sound of her breathing and her beating heart, echoing in her ears, as if these were the loudest noises she had ever heard.

The cold stone of the altar, she felt with her bare feet. The fresh draft coming from somewhere in the temple, she felt through her almost naked body. On this special day, she wasn't wearing any of her usual jewellery, nor had she donned her ceremonial attire. With nothing more than a single white sheet wrapped around her, she kneeled on the altar, and with one hand, grabbed the dagger next to her.

The pummel was of silver, with red stones embedded in it, and the blade was carved with drawings and symbols, the meaning of which she still couldn't figure out. It was Phiramel's dagger, the one he used to poke her finger with when they first met.

All that time I thought of it as a sacrificial dagger of sorts... She took a deep breath and held out her left arm. I never imagined I would use it on myself.

Her eyes closed, she flinched as she buried the end of the blade in her arm. Grimaced as the sharp, cold edge sliced through the flesh, from elbow to wrist. Her heart beating faster than ever. The night berries she took earlier did little to dull the pain. Or perhaps they did – but it still hurt anyway. She opened her eyes, observed her shaking hand, and the blood flowing everywhere. Her skin, her pitiful clothing, the dagger, and the altar, they all became red, redder with each second passing.

She placed the dagger in her left hand, between weak and numb bloodied fingers. This hand wasn't nearly as firm as the other, and the knew the second cut wouldn't be as clean as the first. She extended her right arm, and sliced it in the same fashion, as best as she could.

The crowd was still silent, a thousand eyes filled with awe, observing each and every shiver of hers. Studying every tear, listening to every whimper of hers.

“And now,” Phiramel whispered, but it was a whisper that echoed through the entire hall, “let the chosen be reborn. Let her show us the blessing she received, let her blood flow out, and flow back in. Let her become the holy Blood, the embodiment of Xito's will.”

For what seemed like the longest minutes of her life, Rina waited wordlessly for the blood to exit her own body. Feeling the sleepiness and the fatigue growing and growing, her consciousness slowly fading, a sensation not entirely unlike experiencing nightshade poisoning. Or was it the nightshade taking effect now? She didn't know anymore. Perhaps she would have panicked if she didn't have these treasured memories – already knowing how it felt, to bleed, to hurt, to feel the life extinguishing itself.

When she woke up, her wounds had closed, and her clothes were no longer soaked in blood. There wasn't a single scratch on her arms, not a single droplet of red anywhere around her, as if her mutilation was nothing more than a dream.

She looked up and was met with the gaze of the many people kneeling in the hall. Some were crying in joy, other wore bright smiles, and a few more had blank looks of confusion.

“Arise, your holiness,” said Phiramel in a solemn tone. “And welcome amongst us.”

* * *

Later in the day, she was resting in her room. Sitting by the window, gazing at the horizon. North. There was no way she would be able to see it from here, she knew it, but she kept staring. Where are you now? she wondered. Still in Akilne? What are you doing there? Or have you perhaps travelled somewhere else?

There had been no letter from her brother since the first one. Certainly, that meant he was too busy to write. It would not mean that he had gotten himself deep in trouble. Not that, she wasn't worried about that, no. No. What was she worried about, then?

A hesitant knock at the door, and Rina sighed. “Yes,” she eventually answered, and Aiga bowed as soon as she entered the room.

“...Your holiness,” the maid began softly, “sorry for disturbing you during your time of leisure. His excellency Phiramel called for a meeting in the council room.”

Rina observed the maid, studied her nervous expression and her unsteady hand combing her brown hair behind her ears. “Hmm.” She nodded at last. “Of course.” What does he want? She stepped out and her guards followed her. Leon was here, but they spoke no word, save for the usual acknowledgment of ranks. Leon, whose tongue had somewhat loosened during their conversations about Phiramel and the future of Callir, was suddenly quiet today. It wasn't the presence of the servants and knights – the two of them had no trouble twisting their words and reading between each other's lines.

I see. She didn't feel any different, but it was clear that something had changed for everyone else. No matter what one might have imagined about what it meant to be a chosen of the gods, surely the sight of someone bleeding out before being naturally revived would be stunning. The bleeding part, they witnessed often enough with executions and whatnot. The rest? Once every century if they were lucky, sometimes longer.

She entered a silent council room and was met with the stares of churchmen and noblemen. Noblemen who should have arrived after her – whatever Phiramel meant to discuss, it had obviously been discussed with the nobles earlier. She spotted Laurentias Feanir, seated far enough from the high-priest for everyone to notice that something was going on between the two. The slight frown clouding the lord's expression was another hint.

While Rina had the whole bloodsguard at her service now, there was a new face was standing behind Phiramel, some middle-aged henchman she already saw a couple of times and knew as Carius. A slender but agile body wrapped in boiled leather, a knife sheathed at the belt, these things she absorbed immediately. He reminded her of Bert, but with less hair and none of that messy beard. She had no doubt her newly appointed fencing master was more skilled with the sword than him, though.

“Your holiness,” the high-priest greeted, before glancing over the room. Once he made sure that no one was missing, he waited for Rina to sit before carrying on and addressing everyone. “A while ago, I received word from the kingdom of Paar. By now, I'm sure most of you have heard about the blockade in Ocia, and how it affects the trade route. The city-states of Viera seem to be asking for war, and we are not the only ones concerned.”

Rina shifted in her seat as it felt suddenly uncomfortable. I know where this is going, she thought, and by the look of it, the others knew too, and didn't exactly want to hear it. Lord Feanir was staring at the wooden table, while Viriane's eyelids were shut close. Elric Danalion was stroking his bearded chin with a thoughtful expression, no doubt a facade, and eventually Rina's gaze met Julia's tense eyes. The priestess quickly glanced away, perhaps to seek Leon's eyes instead.

Phiramel raised two open palms and kept on. “The king of Paar was offended by the Vierans and he means to retaliate.”

“A storm is coming,” the sibyl said. “The stars have been telling us for some time now. When I looked in the goat's blood this morning, I saw it again. The heroes shall play an important role in this.”

“The Vierans broke a peace that lasted half a century. They angered us, then they angered the Paarese. It was already bad before that, but now I can say it with confidence – a war will break out, and soon.” Phiramel paused, rose from his chair, and walked around with his hands behind his back. “Sides must be taken,” he concluded nonchalantly.

It was a statement that should have triggered at least a few whispers in the council room, but they all kept silent. They all know. Rina did not feel like dragging the conversation, and sighed.

“You're saying we should side with Paar.”

“Exactly, your holiness.”

She would have liked to take her time to think about this. To study maps, ask for advice, write to her brother. But right now people were looking in her direction, expecting her to voice either her approval or her disapproval, which she knew would be unwise to do without proper understanding of the situation. She could think later – for the moment she simply had to talk.

“Explain, if you would.”

“But of course,” Phiramel replied, nodding. “I suspect the Paarese wish to conquer Ocia and take control of the strait. If their intent is to siege the city, they must be worried about being surrounded by the other Vieran armies. Then this is where Callir's assistance would be valuable to the king of Paar.”

Is this truly wise? The way she saw it, siding with the city-states of Viera was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone – crushing the belligerent Paarese before the war took its toll, and reconciling with the Vierans.

What do the military advisors think of all that? she wanted to ask, but knew she couldn't. If perchance her question sounded like an objection, there was no predicting what the others would imagine. With a treacherous brother, they must have been worried about his influence. She was sure some people here were wondering whether she had been corrupted by Astrael.

Their hatred of Vierans, or at least the way some took advantage of it, was complicating things.

“This would mean sending forces northward, in Vieran territory, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Yes, your holiness,” the high-priest said. “A strategy has yet to be decided upon, but in all likelihood we would be warring against Akilne, and perhaps even Byrille or Xyr.” Akilne... Rina swallowed her saliva. Does he mean to send me at the head of an army? Her tongue rolled in her mouth, weighting the words she could say – but Phiramel gave her no time for an answer and continued. “Lord Feanir shall take command of the Callirian armies, and lead us to victory. Of course, there is no need for your holiness to be present on the battlefield. Your prayers will be enough.”

Hearing that, Rina raised a brow and froze. In the corner of her eye, she saw Leon clenching his fist. Then a simple explanation came to mind. It would make sense. The high-priest wore a large smile, one of pride and satisfaction. What if he didn't really believe war against the Vierans was a wise thing? Maybe he hoped that Laurentias Feanir and his army would be defeated...

Judging by the grim expression of the lord and the cold anger of his son, this was certainly how these two understood it. How bad has become the relationship between Phiramel and the Feanir family? It was indeed the intended consequence of Astrael's plan, but Rina doubted that her brother had even expected such a brutal deterioration. The two sides must not have bothered to do much in order to mend their issues.

It wasn't hard to imagine, especially with Leon's quick temper. Even now, it was obvious he was boiling inside, in spite of his best efforts to keep his composure. The slight shaking of his fists, the tightly shut lips, the glaring eyes that seemed to never blink.

The others probably knew it too, but they wouldn't say anything. They would play along, just like they did when Therenus was accused. At this rate, letting Phiramel have his way with obvious lies would be a common occurrence. Here comes a dilemma. Rina sighed yet again. Should she stand up right here, right now, and oppose Phiramel? Or should she let things happen the way the high-priest wanted them to, at least until the others realised how dangerous it was to allow him to do whatever he pleased?

Regardless, I need the Feanir house on my side... But I can't make anything obvious in front of Phiramel.

She made her decision quickly, agreed with Phiramel and watched as the meeting continued in a more or less peaceful way. What mattered was that the high-priest wouldn't see Rina as an obstacle. I'll keep being sneaky about it – she figured Astrael would have done the same.

On the way back to her room, Leon was silent. He had not spoken a word since he heard his father would lead a dangerous campaign. Not that he had been very talkative before that, anyway. She stopped in front of her door, glanced around, then stared in Leon's eyes.

“Come in, I should like to have a word with you,” she said, her voice sounding more imperious than she expected.

“What is it, your holiness?” the captain asked in an uncaring tone as he closed the door behind him.

She sat on her bed, her eyes still fixed on him. “Would you have objected to Phiramel's suggestion, had you been in my position?” He seemed surprised. Probably didn't expect me to bring this on.

“...Your holiness, I wouldn't dare picturing myself as-”

“Then were you hoping I'd speak up against him?” she interrupted sharply, somewhat annoyed by the knight's evasive answer. Leon swallowed loudly and glanced sideways. No reply, so she carried on. “I thought about it, mind you. I could still go and see him now, if I wanted to. But doing so would not amount to anything, as you probably guessed. He would use that fake polite tone of his to refute my opinion and point out that I am no strategist, and make it all sound like a praise or an advice.”

“Then if you won't say it...”

“...You won't either,” Rina said with a shrug. “It is simple. I won't say it. You won't say it, nor will your father. Nobody needs to say it. It would not change anything. However, there is something else you can do, sir Leon. You can make the other houses understand that if his excellency the high-priest is able to toy with the great Feanir house, there is no reason he wouldn't do the same with the smaller houses.”

Not that she thought there was a single noble unaware of this. But she guessed that in their minds, the threat was still distant. As long as it happens to someone else, they won't care. If I leave them be, they'll only start caring once it's their turn – once it's too late. There was no surprise in Leon's eyes. Rina could tell he had been contemplating the idea for quite some time. All the better.

“I did tell you that I would repay those who place their trust in me. That I wouldn't mistreat my allies the way Phiramel does. You know it. I would appreciate it if you were to share this knowledge with your friends... with your father's friends... and with whomever you believe would be interested in the way you and I see things. Only then, will I be able to fulfil this promise and free your father from Phiramel's whims.”

Her knights knew, but it wasn't enough. She needed all these people to really consider her, not as an option, but as the only way, and pointing out how Phiramel handled his own allies was the perfect opportunity.

Leon Feanir bowed and looked down at his feet. To hide whatever genuine expression he failed to contain, perhaps. “I shall do that, your holiness.”

Even as he reached for the door handle and left the room, the knight didn't ask what Rina had in mind regarding Phiramel. Leon either knew what fate would befell the high-priest once the church and the nobility were united behind Rina, or he didn't want to know – which also meant he knew. You needn't worry about his excellency, she thought, smiling to herself.

Once alone, she sat at her desk, flattened a piece of paper and dipped her quill in the ink. The whole business with the Paarese wasn't something she had been preparing for. It was unexpected, and she needed guidance. Astrael would write soon, she reckoned. What if he didn't, though? She could try to contact him, and risk Phiramel finding out about his whereabout. Not that she knew anything about her brother's new life, except for this new name of his...

She stayed here, on her chair, thinking for a bit, not writing a word. She felt powerless without Astrael's advices and plans, yet she had so much to worry about. How to get both the royalists and the remnants of Therenus' faction on her side. She couldn't rely on Leon alone. How to deal with the Paarese, and the ambassadors they would surely send in Callir. She knew nothing about diplomacy. And how to deal with this damn war...

She knew nothing about war. Only what she had been taught – but her teachers' experience wasn't her own.

“Ah.” She took a deep breath, let out a chuckle, and began writing. There was someone she could trust, to a certain extent. Her brother had told her all about him, and he was perfect for the job. Astrael even suspected him of being a royalist, and if he really was, then it would be truly convenient. Why didn't I send for him earlier? Last she heard of him was through a letter from her parents. Apparently, he was still the same old apothecary, teaching the same old lessons, in the same old village.

Perhaps he would enjoy a change of scenery.