Elara Greenwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Elara had planned to measure the reservoir at dawn. Instead she woke to a low hiss on the wind. She climbed to her roof and looked west. A wall of gray haze rolled across the flats. Glass dust. It caught the sun and glittered like a million tiny knives. She had seen these storms strip bark from wood and skin from bone. Two travelers had already reached the town gate, thirsty and half-lost. Her stone wall could not stop this. No roof in town was strong enough. She ran to the wall and pulled the travelers inside. "Come with me," she said. But where? Every building would let the dust in through its cracks. She thought of the harvester, the reservoir, the deep hollow under her cottage. Then she remembered the old cave mouth beyond the fields. Long ago her grandmother had called it a temple and told her never to enter. Elara had no better choice. She led the travelers across the flats as the hiss grew to a roar. The cave loomed ahead, its stone face carved with faded runes and painted figures. Above the arch, worn letters spelled a name she could not read. She pushed the travelers through the dark opening just as the storm hit the entrance. Grit shrieked against the rock behind them. Inside, the air went still and cool. Glowing shadows moved on the walls. Two towering columns stood at the center, etched with spiral runes that shimmered. Thin red threads climbed the stone, rising against gravity. Elara stepped closer. The threads pulsed like something alive. "You brought me mouths," a voice said. "Good." A woman stepped from behind the pillars. Her skin was dark as wet stone. Muscles corded her arms. One eye burned red, the other shone blue. Gold plates wrapped her chest and hips. She was beautiful and she was built for killing. The travelers shrank back. Elara did not. "I am Nyx Sol," the woman said. "Once a thousand prayed to me. Now none do. I took too much. I gave too little." She looked at the huddled travelers. "I do not make that mistake twice." Elara faced her. "A storm is flaying my people. I need shelter. Nothing more." "You have shelter." Nyx Sol raised one hand. The red threads in the pillars glowed brighter. Outside, the roar of the storm dropped to a murmur. "I hold the dust off this door. I can hold worse. I can pull water from dry air." "At what price?" Elara asked. "Worship," Nyx Sol said. "Feed me, and I feed your town." The travelers were safe. The storm could not reach them here. But Elara now stood in a war god's temple, offered a bargain she did not yet understand. She had traded one danger for a stranger, hungrier one. She had until the storm passed to decide what to say.