✨bia✨’s Reviews > Verity Guild > Status Update

Chief Justice Probus is dead," he says.
With both Kera and me still in our positions, Medea must've had Probus killed. Ever resourceful, she picked a different target. Only, how did she do that while confined to her villa?
Julian partially covers his mouth with his hand.
"What is it?" I ask.
He sighs. "I am here to place you and Kerasea under arrest,"

I become aware that I'm the High Priestess in the Praetorian's bed. In the barracks where a hundred other sentries sleep. I have to leave before the sun rises. We have duties, responsibilities.
"I should return to the temple," I say.
Torren pulls me closer to him and kisses my forehead. "Stay." I know I have to go, but I can stay for just a little while longer.
The next thing I know, I'm falling asleep.

My heart hammers in my chest as the events rush through my mind.
The sharp, shooting pain in my wrist. The horror of catching Calais with Zel. I watched him kill her. I saw her try to cling to life. I held her as she died, her eyes pleading for help. All of that is clear. Everything after is a bit hazy.
Chills careen down my spine, cold like the touch of death. I lost
myselt to rage.

Kerasea has done it-accused Medea of murder and lifted
un exorum.
But as Foreau and Terrance stare at the High Priestess, an unsettling feeling hits my chest. She has won but also marked herself as more powerful than the Council. That makes her a target for their ambitions as well as their retribution.

I have never seen a priest have this ability. Pryor has not seen someone channel this kind of power since there were Elusians. But Kera is not a magic blood.
She couldn't be. They are all dead.

The High Priestess stares straight ahead, slowly rocking the girl in her lap. Kerasea's white robe is soaked in blood. There's splatter on her neck and on her golden collar. Her hands drip crimson onto the stone floor, but the blood isn't hers. Zel's chest is covered, all of it stemming from a deep wound on her neck.
"They killed a child," Kerasea says. "I was too late."

I sign my respect again, penitent for my initial skepticism. This baby is truly blessed. Elusian or not, she was brought here as a gift to the temple, to us, to all of Pryor. She will raise the Faith to
greatness.
Once out of the fire, the girl walks to Osiris as if nothing has happened. He moved to the other edge of the flame and crouched down to be at her level. He stares at her with awe.

I rise from bed, but 1 am not me.
I am Mirial Bauman, twenty years ago.
Mirial's fear and knowledge fill me —this isn't a dream, not exactly; it's a memory, passed to me from godless death. That is the only explanation for how I know that it's the Crimson Night and that I am a priestess, the middle daughter of a merchant family.

All right," I say. "In that case, I won't ask. You have my word." She blinks, but the tension eases in her shoulders.
"Senator Medea murdered Mirial."
I stare, and by the time I blink, my eyes feel dry. "Shock" isn't the right word for what I feel. "Sucker punched" is more accurate. I allow myself a moment before I speak.

I look down at the victim. She seems familiar, but she wasn't a servant or page here —I've interviewed all of them several times now and haven't seen her. I stand still as surprise grips me.