The ambassador’s widened eyes narrowed. Her hateful gaze pierced through him. Her fingers clenched tighter around her medallion, while her other hand rested on the marble guard rails.

  “And what is the mist, prince?” She hissed. “If not an extension of your false gods? It is their doing – they try to expand their domain, to devour our world!” She pointed at him. “You must undergo a cleansing ritual – your connection to these false deities must be severed, and you must remain in a holy place, protected from their influence.” She glanced at her knight, then back at Midhir. “Only then may you survive.”

  His smile shattered. If only a simple ritual and staying inside a church could put a pause on the timer. “Your concern is appreciated, Ambassador.” His voice grew cold. This wasn’t her problem to worry about, and it certainly wasn’t something her god or church could make right. “You needn’t worry,” he added before turning towards the horizon and pointing at the distant forest. “You asked about the Spring of Sun-Touched Waters,” he continued. “The forest you see there is the Overgrowth – it spans nearly the entirety of Eldoria. The Spring should be somewhere behind that hill with the jagged rocks,” his finger moved, pointing at said hill. “It’s about a day’s journey from here, though I’m afraid you won’t be able to travel via carriage.”

  The sound of metal clanking was accompanied by the heavy footsteps of the Ambassador’s knight. “May I ask why, your highness?” His voice was coarse, and he spoke slowly.

  “The overgrowth is exactly that – an overgrown forest that’s essentially centuries old. Whatever paths there were once, whatever roads ran through it have all been destroyed, covered by layers upon layers of roots and overturned earth.” He shrugged. “It’s near impossible to clear a path for a carriage, and even horses have trouble traversing the forest floor.”

  The Ambassador narrowed her eyes. “Is it dangerous?”

  Midhir pressed his lips together. It was – but only because of the cultists. The usual threat of the Overgrowth was of no concern to such a well-armed and armoured group. “It’s dark, and full of spiritual power. One must always be careful within the overgrowth, but a well-armed and alert group of skilled knights should provide you with ample protection,” he glanced down, towards the courtyard between the two halves of the mountain, where the honour guard continued to train, and the other troops either watched, or conducted exercises of their own. “Of course, your knights wouldn’t be your only protection.”

  While the ambassador remained silent, her gaze turned from Midhir towards the forest.

  “I understand. Thank you,” the knight bowed his head slightly before stepping back towards the hallway.

  “Ambassador, shall we continue?” Midhir gestured back towards the hallway as well. He was supposed to be taking her to her chambers after all.

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  She seemed to hesitate for a few moments before finally nodding. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Only when they arrived did she finally speak again. “You are tainted – your soul won’t ascend to the foot of the Sun God’s throne when you die.” Her intense gaze met his. She raised her chin as her hand reached for her medallion. With a sharp pull, she broke the chain, then pressed it against Midhir’s palm. “Come to the Sunlit Summit, show this at the border, and they will lead you to our high priestess. Do not let your soul be devoured by one of the Old Ones.”

  A dull, annoying pain throbbed behind his eye as soon as the medallion touched his hand. He winced. “What is this?” He asked, taking a step back. He prayed to the gods that his eye wouldn’t start bleeding now – it would send the ambassador into a panic. She thought he was only tainted by the influence of the Old Gods. If she ever found out what had really happened, he would surely be branded a heretic. He couldn’t let something like this sour her mood further and possibly affect the diplomatic visit itself.

  “It’s made of amber and imbued with a protective spell. It won’t stop something as powerful as a false god, but it may serve to protect you from further harm by the heretical.” A faint smile appeared on her lips. “I dislike you, prince Midhir. I dislike that the empire has allowed their prince to be tainted as such. I dislike that your people still believe in the Old Ones, in false gods that feed on the souls of humanity.”

  Midhir clenched his fist around the medallion. The broken chain dangled from between his fingers as he raised his gaze to meet hers.

  “I pity you.” She continued, her voice snapping like a whip. “But you are a kind soul – simply born into misfortune. And the Empress is a kind monarch, her acceptance of my faith and my people shows that. I believe our two nations can sustain a relationship, even if we don’t fully see eye to eye.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then met his gaze once more. Her dark pink eyes peered into his soul. “I gift this to you, as a sign of goodwill. My visit here has taught me how little I have experienced in the Sunlit Summits. If we are to be allies in this cruel and ignorant world, it is not only your people who must change.” She glanced at the medallion. “Use it when you must, and when its power is depleted, leave it in sunlight for a while. The Sun God will provide you with further protection.” She turned around, walked into her chambers, and let the door close behind her without another word.

  Midhir stood there for a moment as he tried to make sense of all she had said. She hated him, she pitied him, but…

  “Apologies for the priestess’ harsh words, your highness.”

  The knight’s voice startled him.

  “We knights travel often, but the clergy does not. Especially not those of her rank.”

  “I figured,” Midhir muttered. “No need for apologies, your room is that-“ he gestured towards the door across the hallway, but the knight cut him off.

  “Do not take her words lightly, prince. She isn’t any priestess, and she did not tell a single lie.” The knight’s voice remained low enough that only Midhir could hear him. “She despises the Old Gods, and in turn, you. She pities you, because that is what we do to those who are blind to our Lord’s light. In the eyes of the church, you are a heretic – and the church does not look kindly upon heretics.” He pointed at his eye. “I suggest you do not let her see that.”

  Midhir flinched. He reached for his eye, only to feel warm blood on his cheek.

  “I thank you for your warning.”