Chapter 59

Nick jolted awake as a firm hand shook him roughly, pulling him from the comfortable haze of sleep into sudden awareness. His first thought was to wonder why his air sense hadn’t warned him, but he realized that he still couldn’t feel the presence of whatever had roused him. The absence startled him almost as much as waking did, and he sat up abruptly, blinking at the grinning figure looming over him.Akari crouched beside his bed. Her smile was wide and teasing, and her amber eyes glittered with mischief. “Morning, little wind whisperer. You’ll have to step up your game if you don’t want me sneaking up on you like this.”

Nick scowled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What are you even doing? I can’t feel you at all.”

“I won’t tell you until you figure it out, so you’d better get used to it,” Akari said cheerfully, rising to her full height. “I’ll just have to keep startling you. It should make for good training. I know my master wasn’t nearly as lenient.”

Nick groaned but couldn’t help but nod grudgingly. This would be a valuable skill, and while he didn’t mean to develop his martial skills above his magical ones, the Stalking Gait seemed to be a weird crossover of the two. “Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning.” He snarked.

“You’ll thank me later,” she said, tossing a pillow at him before striding out of the room. “Breakfast in ten. Don’t be late.”

Still grumbling, Nick dressed quickly and made his way downstairs, where the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat welcomed him. The kitchen buzzed with activity as his mother moved about, setting out plates and pouring tea while Devon leaned against the counter, nibbling on a piece of bread. His brother, too, wore the same haunted expression of a teenager forced to rise too early. The fact that he hadn’t felt Akari wake Devon only enhanced his impression of her and the list of potential skills she was employing.

Nick shook his head, noticing Eugene’s absence. “Dad’s already gone?”

Elena hummed without pausing in her work. “He left before dawn. Organizing the market and increasing patrols to prevent another stampede will keep him busy for a while.”

Nick sighed as he sat at the table. His father’s heavy workload was understandable, but Nick had hoped to talk to him about the Prelate. Now that Marthas was here, he wanted to hear his assessment, but he hadn’t caught him the night before, and now it seemed he would have to wait until dinner, assuming Eugene even managed to return by then.

Nick cleared his throat as Akari approached, carrying a tray filled with eggs and sausages. “I was hoping to visit Elia today. She’s having a rough time, and I want to support her.” Considering the large woman's enthusiasm for teaching, Nick anticipated a lecture or at least some resistance, but to his surprise, both women nodded in agreement. Elena even smiled. “That’s kind of you, Nick. Friends are important, especially during tough times.”

Akari chuckled as she set the tray down. “I like your priorities, kid. Loyalty is a good trait. Just don’t get too distracted from your training chasing girls.”

Nick relaxed slightly, but before he could respond to the joke, Devon grinned wickedly. “You’re awfully eager to see Elia. Something you want to tell us, little brother?”

Nick shot him a glare, but his brother’s smirk only widened. “Come on, you can tell me. Is she—”

“Enough, Devon,” Elena cut in. “Nick’s being a good friend. Don’t tease him for it.”

Devon raised his hands in mock surrender but fell silent when he caught the serious look in Nick’s eyes. Unfortunately, the situation wasn’t one for levity. Elia and the beastmen were about to undergo a humiliating examination, all just to assuage imaginary worries about their possible cooperation with the forest’s denizens.

Akari sat back in her chair, causing it to creak. Given that the furniture was used to holding Eugene in his armor without complaint, she must have weighed at least three hundred pounds. And it was all muscle. “I was planning a training session with you two today, but I’ll hold off. Supporting your friends is just as important as sharpening your skills. Don’t worry, though.” She glanced at Devon, her grin sharpening. “I’ll get to know you really well, Devon.”

Devon swallowed hard, likely regretting his earlier confidence. Nick allowed himself a smile as he finished his breakfast and then pushed back from the table. “Thanks, everyone. I’ll be back later.”

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Floria welcomed him with a bustling atmosphere, though today, it felt more vibrant than usual. The streets buzzed with vendors setting up their stalls and carts, calling out greetings and negotiating prices. Despite the early hour, the market district was already bursting with activity. Some foreign vendors had already claimed their spots, with wares neatly arranged in colorful displays, while others were still unloading goods from wagons.

Nick’s curiosity itched, but he forced himself to keep moving. He couldn’t afford distractions—not when Elia might need him. He quickened his pace, pushing through the crowd and resisting the urge to browse.

The temple spire soon loomed in the distance. Nick’s jaw tightened as he approached. He didn’t relish the idea of being noticed, especially by the Prelate, but he wouldn’t leave Elia alone to face whatever was coming. The beastmen, too, were a concern. Their pride and distrust of authority made them unpredictable, and Nick worried they might act rashly under the circumstances.

When he arrived at the outer gardens, Nick paused, scanning the surroundings. Few worshippers and acolytes wandered around, as the first official prayer would be at midday when the sun was highest. He squared his shoulders and stepped onto the grounds, his determination overshadowing his apprehension.

After another minute, he saw the line in the distance—a long, somber procession of beastmen winding through the temple grounds. The air was thick with tension, palpable even without extending his senses. No one, not even the few devout believers, enjoyed submitting to this procedure, though at a casual glance, Nick couldn’t see any sign of mass defection.

He paused, briefly closing his eyes and reaching out with his air sense. The hum of nearby life filled his awareness: shifting feet, murmured voices, and the faint rustle of fabric as people adjusted their clothing. He focused, pushing further, scanning the crowd for any signs of hidden dangers. His precision had improved, but even now, he knew there were gaps in his perception. Akari’s demonstration had made that painfully clear.

he thought. He already had ideas for a spell—something more refined than his current method, capable of catching even the faintest traces of movement. But now wasn’t the time for experimentation.

Gripping his wand tighter, Nick cast , weaving the spell around him like a thin veil. The air seemed to shimmer slightly, dimming his presence. It was a crude trick, one that hadn’t worked well in the past, but it might help him blend into the crowd. Or at least, that was the theory.

Almost immediately, unease prickled at the back of his neck. To someone with advanced senses similar to Ogden’s, the spell might stand out like a lit beacon. The Prelate was certain to notice if Short and Scar had seen through it.

Cursing under his breath, he dispelled it, letting the magic unravel and dissolve. Better to rely on careful movement than to draw the wrong kind of attention because of clumsy casting.

He didn’t join the procession. There was no reason to add to their humiliation or risk drawing unnecessary attention. Instead, he skirted the edge of the field near the temple, keeping low and out of sight. The tall grass provided enough cover to conceal his movements, and he moved lightly, avoiding any sound that might reveal his presence, helped by his newly increased ability to keep any noise from escaping his general vicinity.

With just a twitch of the wyvern wand, the sound simply faded away as it was produced.

When he got close enough, what he saw made his stomach churn. Dozens of beastmen already stood rigidly in neat rows, their expressions carefully blank. Foxkin with twitching tails, wolfkin shifting uneasily, towering bearkin clenching their large hands, sleek-scaled lizardfolk, and even a few annoyed mothmen—all forced into compliance under the temple’s watchful gaze.

Priests moved among them, directing the newcomers into formation. They relayed commands, leaving no room for argument. Nick’s anger simmered beneath the surface. It was pretty clear that this wasn’t just an inspection—it was a display of power, a reminder of who held control.

He continued his scan of the group, picking up faint traces of movement that went beyond what his eyes could see. A few beastmen in the back whispered to each other, too quietly to catch. Others stood silently, staring fixedly at the ground or the distant horizon. Elia was nowhere to be seen, but Nick doubted she’d be far.

As the last stragglers joined the ranks, the shortest of the new priests—a stooped old man with a gnarled cane—stomped sharply against the stone ground. The sound echoed unnaturally, cutting through the murmurs and silencing the crowd. An unnatural stillness followed.

Then, as if summoned by the silence, Marthas emerged.

The temple doors swung open with a low groan, revealing his towering frame—seven feet of muscle made even more of an impression when everyone knew he was the one in charge. His crimson robes flowed behind him like liquid fire, and the glowing orange tattoos on his arms shone fiercely. Every eye turned to him, leaving the crowd frozen in awe and dread.

Nick pressed himself further into the grass as his heart pounded. Even from this distance, the Prelate’s presence was overwhelming. The man radiated power, not just physical strength but something deeper, more primal. Nick’s instincts screamed at him to keep his distance, but he couldn’t look away.

Marthas descended the steps slowly, each movement deliberate. When he reached the base, he paused, surveying the gathered beastmen with an unreadable expression. His gaze swept over them, lingering on no one in particular yet leaving the impression that he saw everything.

Nick clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to act. Deep down, he wanted to rush forward, to confront this man who so clearly reveled in his authority. But he knew better. Recklessness wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Elia.

Marthas lifted a hand, and the crowd seemed to collectively brace itself. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying easily across the field. “Beastkin of Floria,” he began. “You stand here today not as subjects, but as citizens of this town—a town that depends on your cooperation and harmony. This inspection is not a punishment but a necessity, a measure to ensure the safety and prosperity of all.”

Nick grimaced, digging his fingers into the earth he was pressed against. The words were well-crafted, designed to placate the crowd while reinforcing the temple’s dominance. He glanced at the beastmen, noting the way their postures stiffened, though their faces betrayed nothing.

Marthas continued, stepping closer to the rows. “I understand your frustrations, your doubts. But know this: I am here to protect you, guide you, and ensure no harm comes to this town or its people. Sashara’s Guiding Light will bless you all today, and you’ll rejoin the flock, pure and free from heretical influence.”

Beneath the polished words and imposing stature, Nick sensed something darker.

He stayed rooted in place as Marthas moved among the rows. This performance was a calculated display of power meant to solidify the temple’s hold on the town.