With a small sigh, she dug her feet a little deeper into the warm sand. The sun threw its last few rays over the isle of Sunfall, a stunning view if you hadn’t gotten used to it yet. The golden bracelets around her wrists rattled a little when she pulled her knees closer to her chest. She just couldn’t get used to this island. She felt like an outcast in every way possible, like she didn’t belong here. The way they made her dress didn’t feel right. Endowed with golden jewellery and dresses that had cost more than her own life did, back when she was a slave. Still, she kept desperately clinging to the Priests of Sol, because wasn’t that the very definition of faith? Blindly throwing yourself into the deep, trusting you’d be right at the very end? A frown took hold of her face as the sun slowly but surely sagged below the horizon. It was time for her to go back.

Without any hurry, she got up to wipe the sand off of her pearly white dress. Another ironic contrast with her previous life. It was almost like the Priests of Sol were trying to mock her in some way. She constantly asked herself why she ever thought she’d fit in here, but an answer never really came. In a slow tempo, she found her way towards the city centre, where the unmistakable cathedral was located. Even though the Priests of Sol sought comfort in their church after sundown, the streets of Sunfall were still busy. The faith hadn’t been what it used to and the largest part of the population consisted of tourists, vintners, and traders. In the central square, she stood still for a few seconds to gaze into one of the various taverns. She couldn’t help but feel a light urge to go inside, to break some rules and let her old self be. After all, it was difficult to drop bad habits.

[open]

Becoming a priestess of Sol had earned her a lot of time to contemplate, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The more time she got to think, the more she started to ruminate. About everything. She questioned her past, her own integrity and her faith. Some days she felt like she had a fighting chance at becoming someone good, someone holy. Other days she felt like she was the ugliest thing in the world. Insecurity wasn’t something she wore well. It tainted every inch of her being, making her face crumble into an expression that let the entire world now how unsure she was of everything. Luckily, she was aware of this fact, and tried to hide it. And she hid it well.

Caught up in her own thoughts, she was completely unaware of being followed. Her mind was hours ahead of her, already looking forward to the night. It was the only time she could be herself, undoing herself of this exuberant costume, ending the charade of portraying someone she really wasn’t. Someone she wanted to be. Her attention was drawn to a nearby tavern, due to the cheery noises and the scent of wine that seemed to stem from it. Something she seemed to recognize from her past life. Something she seemed to have missed. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing the establishment for a few seconds. Lore looked up a little startled when she heard a voice, but her expression settled as soon as she identified the source. The remark of the raven-haired man seemed to bring a slight smile on her face, cocking a brow up at him when he invited her for a drink. “I haven’t broken any rules just yet,” she assured him, trying to play coy. She then realized it never suited her. “But you don’t tend to have a good influence on people, do you?” Subtly, she let her gaze run over the people around them, checking for any other priests. When she couldn’t find any, she looked back at him. “I suppose I could make time for one drink.” Or maybe two.

Loraelei had been afraid of the man, at first. Of course, she had been the one who asked for the death of her husband herself, but wanting the man dead and actually killing him were two entirely different things. Sometimes, she tried to imagine what it had been like. She wondered if Lyndon had suffered, or if his death had been quick and painless. When she thought of all the things he’d done to her, she hoped for the former. It was terrifying to think the man in front of her was capable of doing such a thing, but he’d been the one to give her her freedom. And for that, she was eternally grateful.

Her life as a priestess hadn’t been easy either – it’d taken her a lot more effort to adapt than she would’ve initially thought – but it was nothing compared to her past life. Nothing compared to being a slave, working as a courtesan and sharing a bed with strangers, nothing compared to being the wife of a violent alcoholic. She smiled, a genuine smile for once, when the man crossed his heart and pretended to be offended by her words. “You almost make me feel like I’m the one having to buy you a drink,” she replied, also grinning. And maybe she should. She owed him her life in some way. He told her the first round would be on him, to which she nodded. He gestured for her to go in, which she did. Walking through the doors, she was greeted by the smell of liquor and the loud voices of the people there. Somehow, it made her feel nostalgic. She glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. “How’s Sunfall been treating you?” she asked, slightly wondering why he was here in the first place. She hoped he was doing as alright as she was, and if he wasn’t, she hoped she could help. Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling she owed him something.

There had only been a handful of men in her life that had helped her. Most of them usually did so after they got something they wanted from her, but she was willing to look past that. If only to preserve what little faith she had left in humanity. She wouldn’t try and fool herself into thinking Kaz was a kind man. Anyone who was willing to take a life in return for money couldn’t be considered anywhere near kind in her book. He was dangerous, unpredictable and above all: a criminal. Still, she couldn’t help but feel fond of him at least a little bit. The truth was that she didn’t know him in the slightest, but still she could tell he’d gone through a lot. A common pain they both shared, regardless of their differences.

A bittersweet smile took over her face as he suggested they’d celebrate freedom. “Sounds good,” she told him. Freedom was a relative thing. She was free compared to her former life. Not a slave, not a wife stuck in an abusive marriage. Still, she couldn’t do as she pleased, couldn’t just leave the island if she wanted to. In comparison, she was still nowhere near as free as he was. They occupied a table for two and she smiled again when he didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about visiting the island. For some reason, he felt the need to lie about it. “It’s far better than Brightwater Keep. Or Isla de Juegas, for that matter,” she said, shrugging a little. Those were both places she was held captive on, and she was glad to be rid of them. Her attention was drawn to his cane when he asked what her new home was like. She had always wondered how he’d hurt his leg, although she never really dared to ask. Men like him weren’t very vocal about their past. “Oh, there’s nothing more exciting than getting up early to pray and spread the word of our god,” she said, somewhat sarcastically. She was in a tavern, so she was pretty sure there would be no priests around to govern her words. “But I’m free and I’m safe, which is more than I could’ve asked for.” If anything, she was glad to be here.

At first, the Priests of Sol had simply been a refuge for her. A way of obtaining food, water, and shelter for free. The only thing she had to do, was to participate in pretending there was someone like Sol watching over everyone and everything. See, Lore had nothing to offer the world but her services as a courtesan. Something she never wanted to subject herself to again. But somewhere along the way, accidentally, she’d found something that looked like faith. A belief that there was something good ingrained in the world, in everyone, something divine. A belief she clung to so heavily, hoping that she too could find salvation before it was too late. A desperate belief that she could be good, that she could rid herself of the desperation, filth, and shame of her former life.

Lore turned the corners of her lips up in a smile when he noted that he was glad she was doing well. Deep down she refused to believe he was being genuine, but she still appreciated the sentiment. The idea that at least someone out there was pretending to look out for her. She quietly sipped at her drink, looking up at him again once he asked her why she chose to go here, how it was different from being captive. A bittersweet smile appeared on her face for a few seconds. “Where else would I go?” she replied. The truth of the matter was that she wasn’t able to fend for herself. Not like he was. “The Sol Invictus is good to me. I’d rather serve her than any man.” She looked down at her drink again, tracing her nail over the condensation of the glass. “It’d be naïve for me to believe I’ll ever be truly free.” Freedom was a luxury that was purely reserved for highborn men, and no one else.