The Matriarch's Daughter

Chapter Seventeen: Fallout

Time passed. 

Three months, to be exact. 

Three months since the incident with Rory.
Three months had passed since her sister had last spoken to her.
Three months since Thepa had felt whole.

Now, Thepa was fragmented, a shell of her former self. Her heart ached. Her soul thirsted for agape, the kind of love that asked for nothing in return, but she was powerless to quench it. Never in her whole life had she felt so incomplete. Even worse, the pain inside her showed no signs of stopping.

The first month served to push the two of them further apart. They still had a job to do, even if doing it was unbearable. When they did speak, Rory's responses were short, punctuated sentences that stung Thepa's heart much like the arrows she shot in target practice, letting out her frustration. Every other day, she found her blue eyes staring at the multicolored circular targets in a vain attempt to find joy, but even that had lost its luster. Instead, the action served as a reminder that her relationship was damaged beyond repair as she constantly saw Rory's penmanship etched across the bow's riser.

To my one and only sister, may you always find your mark.

Three months.

By month two, the fire inside her died. The dreams of her mother stopped. Suspicious of inaction, or as Thepa came to suspect, the failure of her untimely demise, the Matriarch summoned Vivian home. Soon after, Lily was called back to the Nation State of Swampspell, putting the team on hiatus.

Now, there wasn't even a mission. Just Thepa. All alone with her thoughts.

Three months.

The council moved forward without her. They praised her actions but decided to put her leadership of the Elite Strike Team on hold. To ease their own conscience, they pinned a medal to her chest, as if a gold-plated scrap could erase the emptiness she felt. Not once did they ask how she might feel about any of it. Instead, without her input, they made a new decision.

A new team.

One built from the ground up, carefully selected and trained together from the start—unlike hers. The new team would be disciplined, cohesive, and unquestioning. A unit without complications. They were moving on, and Thepa was being left behind. 

At least they gave her her old job back.

Despite everything, Thepa held out hope for the future. She carried her bow everywhere, hoping for a chance to subtly show Rory that she hadn't given up on their relationship. Even now, the bow lay by her side, ready to be seen. Not that she expected Rory to see it.

"Rory," Thepa thought, staring at the message scroll. Its arcane runes glowed in response. Its use was limited, but she had no other options. She loved her sister, and if Einkidi was right, love demanded to be seen and shared.

"Can you hear me?"

***

"I can hear you," Rory whispered, ignoring the magic of the whisper spell.

Her soft voice echoed through the hallowed study of the Gate of the Moon.

To an outsider, the Gate of the Moon was the height of grandeur. It was an opulent space to ensure the High Priestess had everything she needed to fulfill her duties. Towering bookshelves encircled the room, each packed with countless volumes. Seven stained-glass windows, evenly spaced between the shelves, depicted the moon in its different phases, their colored light dancing across the polished floor as the sun made its rotation across the terra.