Realms of Glomora: Fantasy Short Stories

Beyond Forever

"Why do we continue to do this?" Nyxa whispered. "Why do we continue to love when we should not?"

Sován turned from the fireplace towards her. His dark eyes glimmered in the light of the fire. "It's simple. Because we cannot help but love each other."

Nyxa sighed, sitting on the sofa in the room, cradling her head in her hands. "A knight and a cleric should not love each other."

She felt his weight settle next to her. Her skin tingled as his warm, smooth fingertips caressed her neck. "Yet we do."

Nyxa looked at him. He was close, and his scent enraptured her. Her body jerked as she restrained herself from forcing his mouth to hers.

He opened his hand. In it was a blue jewel on a silver chain. "This is for you," he said. "It was my mother's." His eyes fixed on hers. "I want you to have it before I leave for Ostus. So you will always be reminded of me. Of us."

Nyxa gazed at it, her lips parted. "Sován, I can't...it's too..."

"Shhh." He took the necklace and adorned it around her neck. "I want you to have it." He took her hand and placed it over his chest. "As I want you to have my heart."

She looked into his eyes, and this time, she did not hold herself back.

***

The woman had thorns in her three eyes.

It was a statue of a Liure, a handmaiden of the Pale Lady. A wreath of roses clung to the statue like a shadow, crowning it in blossoms of black, and shrouding its eyes, including the one in its forehead. Shadows spilled from its feet, casted by the silver-white orb that hung in the sky.

Nyxa turned from the statue and continued walking through the courtyard of the ancient temple. Tendrils of vines slithered through the cracks of the stones and wisteria bloomed from the low hanging arches in brilliant arrays of purple and white. A fountain in the courtyard was choked with weeds and wild yellow daisies. Another Liure had at one time stood in the center of the fountain but all that remained was its legs. The top half of the statue rested some yards away, as it if had been tossed aside like some child's doll.

The half-elven knight bit her lip in consternation. Her order had sent her here to Ostus because no word had been heard from the clerics in months. Ostus was well-known, even outside of the moon goddess's ilk, as a place where clerics secluded themselves in prayer and study. But there was no sign of the clerics, and the temple was in ruins, presumably since the beginning of summer given the untamed foliage.

Nyxa worried at the blue stone around her neck, wondering what had happened to the temple. Here and there were the black blemishes of scorch marks marring the white marble of the pillars and walls. She sensed the remnants of divine magic emitting from the marks. There had been a battle, that much was clear.

The knight passed from the courtyard through an archway into the sanctuary of the temple. Shadows filled the room. Pieces of glass, the remains of the sanctuary's stained-glass windows, glittered like a dragon's jewels under the moonbeams that pierced through the temple. Nyxa placed her hand on her sword, creeping cat-quiet through the silver gloom.

A patch of moonlight made her freeze. In its light was dark, dried blood steaked like careless paint strokes. The streaks made a path, leading to the back of the sanctuary. Nyxa followed it, slowly drawing her blade from its scabbard.

The trail ended at a heavy metal door, carved with the angelic visage of Iltaku, her eyes closed, her hair floating about her face in streams of engraved silver. It was the door to the catacombs, where the goddess's most precious servants slept eternally.