I take a slow, steady breath, the scent of damp earth and fresh grass doing little to calm the unease curling in my gut. Bishop Grace stands before me, her presence as unyielding as the massive tree at the center of the sacred grounds. The sunlight filters through its branches, casting dappled shadows over us, but I feel no comfort in its embrace.
"The audacity of you to show up, Thorne." Her voice is sharp, each word a precise cut.
I stop mid-step, my body tensing instinctively. I've faced warlords, kings, and entire armies without blinking, but this—this moment, standing before the high priestess of Elaris—this makes me nervous. Not because I fear her, but because I know exactly what I have done. And Elaris, the goddess of life, does not take kindly to men like me.
