The morning sun crept into the room, casting a soft golden glow on the walls as Elara stirred from her sleep. Her body still ached from the week of grueling training in the forest with Lucian, but her mind was sharp.
Today, she would go to the village and act as though nothing had changed, slipping seamlessly back into her routine.
After preparing herself, Elara stepped out into the village, her cloak wrapped tightly around her to ward off the chill in the air.
The familiar sight of her surroundings, the small houses with their thatched roofs, the cobbled streets still damp from the morning dew, brought her a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in days. But as she walked, her mind remained on the power she now possessed, carefully concealed beneath the surface.
Her destination was the bakery where she worked most mornings—a modest, brick-walled building nestled between the village's apothecary and tailor shop.
The faint, comforting smell of fresh bread and pastries greeted her as she approached, but there was an unfamiliar tension in the air, a quiet murmur of unease.
As Elara pushed open the door, a small bell chimed softly, and Mr. Grett, the owner of the bakery, turned to see her. His eyes widened in surprise, the flour-covered dough in his hands momentarily forgotten.
"Elara?" His voice was a mix of shock and concern. He wiped his hands on his apron and quickly moved toward her. "By the will of gods, child, where have you been? You've been gone for over a week! I thought something terrible had happened to you."
Elara offered him a reassuring smile, though she could feel the weight of his concern. She had already prepared an excuse in case anyone asked about her disappearance.
"I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Grett. I had to take care of a few matters outside the village, and it took longer than I expected. It was... personal." She lowered her eyes, hoping the vagueness of her explanation would deter any further questions.
Mr. Grett's brow furrowed, but after a moment, he nodded slowly. "Well, I'm glad to see you're alright, but you should've sent word. I was worried sick. You know how things are these days, with the temple and the Order keeping a close eye on everything."
Elara felt a slight pang of guilt. Mr. Grett was a kind man, and he had always treated her well. She didn't like lying to him, but there was no other choice.
"I'll make it up to you," she said quickly, moving behind the counter and tying an apron around her waist. "Let me help with the orders today."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad to see you returned in one piece." He returned to kneading the dough, but his expression remained thoughtful, as if something was still troubling him.
Elara busied herself with the morning tasks, grateful for the normalcy. As she worked, the tension in her shoulders began to ease.
She could almost forget about Lucian, the blood pact, and the dark arts for a brief moment. But that fleeting peace didn't last long.
After a while, Mr. Grett glanced around to make sure no one else was in the shop. Then, in a low voice, he leaned closer to her. "Listen, Elara. There's something else I need to tell you."
Elara stopped rolling the dough and looked at him, her heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"
Mr. Grett's eyes darted toward the windows before he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Last night, some men from the temple were asking about you. Not directly, but I heard them speaking with a few of the other villagers—trying to get information about where you'd been, who you'd spoken to."
Elara's chest tightened. The temple had been investigating her? She kept her expression neutral, forcing herself not to show any signs of alarm. "Did they ask you anything?"
"No," Mr. Grett replied quickly. "I think they were being cautious, trying not to raise too much suspicion. But it was clear they were looking for answers. I don't know what it's about, but I thought you should know."
Elara bit the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. She had been careful, hadn't she? She hadn't done anything to draw attention—at least, not until her week-long disappearance. But still, the idea that the temple and the Order was watching her so closely filled her with unease.
"I... I appreciate you telling me," she said quietly, wiping her hands on a cloth to hide her sudden anxiety. "Maybe they're just worried because I missed the sermons. I'll be more careful from now on."
Mr. Great nodded, though his eyes lingered on her with a hint of suspicion. "Be careful, Elara. The temple and the Order don't take kindly to those who... stray. Especially not now, with how strict things have become."
Elara forced a smile. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Mr. Grett."
But as she returned to her work, her thoughts churned in a thousand directions. She had to find a way to keep the enemies off her trail, at least until she could figure out what they suspected.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, though Elara's mind remained clouded with worry. The bells of the nearby tower chimed noon, signaling the end of her shift.
Mr. Grett patted her on the shoulder as she untied her apron, his concern still evident in his expression.
"You should take good care of yourself starting from now," he said as she prepared to leave. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
"I will," Elara promised. With a final nod, she slipped out of the bakery and into the bustling village streets.
As she walked, her gaze wandered to the towering spire of the temple in the distance, its shadow looming over the village like a silent watchman. The Order was watching her. She had to be cautious, now more than ever.
The blood pact with Lucian had changed her life in ways she was only beginning to understand. But now, with the Order on her trail, she realized that hiding her new power was only the first of many challenges she would face.