The Skin Thief

Chapter 12

Kiora

Kiora groggily opens her eyes. Her limbs ache deeply, and her chest tightens with confused fear. She pushes herself up and tries to process the sight before her.

Climbing up onto the courtyard are men and lots of them.

"The doors!" the sculptor shouts. Priestesses run toward the stone doors and start pushing them shut. The men race across the courtyard, trampling all the candles that were left there from their morning prayers. As they reach the closing doors, they push back. Some slide in through the gap still there.

Kiora screams as they wrap their arms around the priestesses before violently throwing them to the floor. With them out of the way, the rest of the men open the doors back up with ease. Kiora rushes to her sisters and helps them up. Quickly, she pulls them away as the men continue to burst into the hall.

They wear thick white coats with furs around their hoods. Over their eyes are large, dark, circular goggles. Around their mouths and noses are strange, black masks with pipes leading into their coats. Thick, leathery harnesses surround their waists, and legs and go up their chests and over their shoulders. Metal tools hang from various parts of the kit. On their huge leather boots are metal spikes. Their hands are covered in thick, fur-lined gloves.

Kiora gulps and her legs wobble as she takes it all in. Her sisters tremble beside her and they let out disturbed cries of shock. Kiora wraps her arms around two of her nearest sisters and pulls them into her protectively, not taking her eyes off the invaders.

One invader steps out from the protection of the others. Kiora flinches and she stumbles back with her sisters.

The sculptor steps forward, her teeth gritted and her eyes burning with rage.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asks, her voice strong, "who dares trespass in our sacred halls? Leave. Now."

Upon hearing her words, the men raise guns which had been hanging from their backs. Kiora gasps, and steps in front of her sisters, her arms stretched out to keep them behind her. The sculptor steps forward, her hands out, trying to calm them.

Kiora stares at the cold, harsh, black metal of the weapons. She watches as they hold their heavily gloved fingers over the triggers.

She had seen many guns during her travels across the realms. In her two-hundred and fifty years, she had seen the second realm go from barely functioning pistols to muskets, to now, where they have all sorts of strange firepower at their disposal. As she stares down the barrel, she wonders what horror these weapons could do. How many deadly little bullets could it hurl at her and her sisters? What damage would they do to their icy bodies?

Though the priestesses don't have the vital organs of humans, they can still be hurt. They can still die.

Kiora gulps and licks her dry lips.

"Calm down," the sculptor says, still holding out her hands. "Why are you here?" she asks again.

The man who stepped forward earlier raises his hands and gestures for their weapons to be lowered. Then, he pulls down his hood and removes his goggles and mask.

Kiora frowns. His face looks familiar though she can't place how. His skin is tanned. His nose and cheeks are pink from the cold. Ice tinges his scraggly brown beard and his lips are cracked and dry. Brown, messy hair is loosely tied into a bun and in the low light of the temple, Kiora can see a sheen of grease covering it.

His dull blue eyes fall on Kiora's, and he smiles calmly.

"Her," he says and makes a gesture to his men.