Chapitre 1 : The End of an Era

The huge, majestic moon reflected off the calm waters. Standing on the hill, I stared at the horizon, feeling my hair flutter around me, lifted by a night breeze that made me shiver despite the warmth. I adored this vivid landscape, yearning to become as harsh as these reefs and as serene as these waters, as secretive as the moon.

I raised my arms, closed my eyes, and sang an ancient song, passed down since time immemorial. It spoke of the encounter between earth and sky, their union birthing the world, evoking their magical, fruitful embrace. Beside me, my wolf Altaïr howled.

The song glorified Mother Earth and Father Sky for their blessings. Other voices joined mine, but I didn’t need to open my eyes to recognise them. They were my soulmates, as I fondly called them.

I knew precisely where each one stood, feeling their presence even before hearing them. To my left was Tillen, the youngest and most carefree among us, radiating joy. Next to Tillen stood Maïa, gentle Maïa, the peacekeeper. And to her right was Livi, bold and determined, the eldest of our group.

Over the four years since our first meeting, we had become inseparable friends. We knew and understood each other, sometimes without a word. It was inevitable, given the years we spent side by side learning on the sacred island of Nagaël.

I vividly remembered my arrival on the island. The night had already fallen, and the brilliance of the moon goddess, Orca, was dazzling, illuminating our surroundings perfectly. I positioned myself at the front of the boat for a better view of the island emerging on the horizon. I was mesmerised by the atmosphere as we approached; everything seemed to become suddenly more peaceful. At the age of fourteen, I felt a sense of calm and another indescribable feeling. It was as if, after an endless journey, I had finally anchored at my home. I had to be there; I had never felt such a strong sense of belonging.

I was both eager and apprehensive about setting foot on the sacred land that carried the legacy of our world, Nëmea. I was ready to follow in the footsteps of the women in my family, to become an accomplished young woman.

We docked at a small pier leading to a vast meadow with several white buildings. At the centre stood a huge temple, undoubtedly dedicated to Alkïan, God of the sky, and Samrah, goddess of the earth. In the distance, a dense forest was visible. This seemingly simple place was one of the sacred sites of our world, alongside the golden temple of Aceluna on the sacred lake Sapna, the high tower of Argorh on the island of Virié. Not forgetting the sanctuary in the Laurïon Forest and the Sualana plain, where centuries ago, our people had defeated tyranny, oppression, and evil.

In addition to educating young girls, Nagaël was where the priestesses of Alkïan and Samrah were trained. The priests and young men, meanwhile, were trained in Virié. However, Nagaël was different; legend had it that it was on its soil that Samrah appeared to humankind and bestowed upon them fertile lands. It was decided that the island would be a territory reserved for women. After all, they were the temples in which the miracle of life occurred, through which the world eternally renewed itself.

By ceding Nagaël to women, men had seemingly celebrated the source of all life, showing a great humility that was not typically characteristic of their gender. That was why I was more inclined to believe that this decision had not come from them, but from the goddess herself, a more plausible hypothesis. Indeed, observing my brothers and father, humility was not the first trait that came to mind.

Nagaël was beautiful, yet I had no opportunity to admire my surroundings as I had to immediately present myself to the High Priestess, Messua.

The High Priestess was the foremost servant of the gods. There were four high priests residing in each of the four holy places – Virié, Aceluna, Nagaël, and Laurïon: three men and one woman. Feared and respected, they formed the link between humans and the gods, interpreting their signs. Advisors to kings, they also sat on the council of wise men, which ensured respect for our laws and served as judges and mediators in times of disputes between kingdoms.

The High Priests possessed gifts and abilities few mortals had. I had only heard rumours about their supposed powers, and I even though most of them were false and exaggerated. Stories of stopping time or turning men into rats were common. Years later, I discovered that many of these outlandish rumours were actually concocted by the High Priests themselves to awe the people and maintain a certain control over them.

I was led to one of the most imposing buildings, into a large room decorated with mosaics representing the sea. The High Priestess stood at the centre, before the fire. I recognised her by her richer attire compared to the others. She turned around as soon as I was announced. Looking up at her, I prepared to lower my gaze as etiquette demanded, but I found myself unable to do so.

Her skin was slightly tanned, and her face, far from a classic beauty with harmonious features, was full of character. Her immense, penetrating eyes seemed to read into me. Her long brown hair was tied up in a complex bun. It was impossible to determine her age; only fine lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed her long experience. Her entrancing presence, almost radiant, dazzled me. I could have watched her for hours, captivated by that aura. She smiled faintly as she silently surveyed me, then with a graceful gesture, beckoned me to come closer.

“Danaé of Thanït, welcome to Nagaël,” she said in a melodious voice.

I curtsied deeply, hoping not to appear clumsy.

“I know it’s hard to leave your family for an unknown place, but here, you will find a new family,” she assured me.

I acquiesced, parting with my family had been painful. Nevertheless, I didn’t wish to think about it now. I didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Lady Messua. She approached me slowly, as if afraid to scare me. When she took my hands, I felt a tingling sensation and my hairs stood on end. It seemed as though the wind had picked up in this enclosed space. So troubled was I that I quickly withdrew my hands from hers, surprised and shocked.

I blushed violently and lowered my head, stammering apologies. She grabbed my chin and lifted my head.

    It’s the Lïshen, the energy in all beings. Yours is uncommon, which means, my child, that your place is here. However, it’s late and you’re tired. We’ll talk later.

Suddenly, I felt as if there was dust in my eyes and my vision blurred. I rubbed my eyes and then reopened them. But I was no longer in the same place. It was daytime, the high priestess was there, but in a different attire. She spoke to me, but I couldn’t hear her. My heartbeat racing, I held back a scream as I noticed that blood was flowing from her head, so much blood, everywhere in the room, even on my hands. I felt faint, and then everything went black. When I opened my eyes, all had returned to normal, and I found myself in the arms of the high priestess.

    “All is well, my dear child, all is well,” The grand priestess reassured me with her gentle voice, caressing my hair.

    I couldn’t help but tremble as I regained my footing in reality.

    “Breathe,” The lady urged me, “It was nothing”.

She seemed to know exactly what had happened to me. After she helped me straighten, she handed me a goblet containing a mixture which I drank. It tasted of honey and lemon with a slight bitter end. I immediately felt better. I was relieved that she didn’t ask me to recount what I had seen. It was so terrifying. Did she do that to me? How? Was it this place? I felt so exhausted suddenly.

“It happens sometimes here, visions of our fears or nightmares triggered by tiredness or stress. Be at ease, it was nothing,” she repeated. “It won’t stay in you.”

It was nothing, of course, I thought. She was right. I was exhausted, the journey had been long. A sacred land was full of powers and energy I didn’t know. I would learn about them. What did I see? I tried to conjured the images but it was all blurry and vague. I shook my head, confused for a moment. It was nothing.  

“You should go rest.”

“Yes, your venerable.” Tiredness made people faint.

The meeting was brief, and I was not disappointed. I didn’t want to make any more faux pas and I especially wanted to get away from her presence. Strange things happened around her, I thought, desperately trying to remember what I believed I saw.

Then came the moment to bid farewell to my escort and my governess, Klena. I watched them leave, my heart heavy, knowing I was now alone in a new home.

I consoled myself with the thought that the women in my family could visit me on the sacred island, but not the men.

My colt, Antares, was led to the stable. I insisted on keeping my baby wolf, Altaïr, with me, but my request was immediately refused. I tried to control the tears that were already escaping my eyes.

    “Let her keep the animal,” The high priestess, whom I hadn’t heard approach declared.

I bowed my head, overwhelmed with gratitude. I hadn’t wanted to be capricious, but to soften our parting, my father had given me a baby wolf captured in the mountains of the kingdom of Olivï. During the journey, which had lasted several days, it had been a great comfort. It slept curled up against me, licking the tears from my cheeks.

Then, the priestesses led me to the dormitories. One of them briefly explained the extraordinary education I would receive: the history of our world, politics, literature, philosophy. I would also be taught everything that would make me a young woman of accomplishment: sewing, embroidery, lace-making. Her description of feminine activities made me grimace. I would also learn how to manage a household, to preside over meals. Everything that, according to my mother, would make me a perfect wife, bored me to death and urged me to live as a hermit in the depths of the Mahindra desert. I didn’t want to be a perfect wife, it was the other aspect of my education that appealed to me.

I would learn everything about our land, the art of healing, how to make remedies. There was also special instruction reserved for a minority whose Lïshen was abundant and powerful. These chosen ones could communicate with nature through their faculties. The world was a whole where everything was connected; the energy of men responded to that of the universe. They had the ability to move objects by thought alone. These chosen ones could communicate with animals, even command them over time, few even control the elements. Those who achieved this were those who controlled and mastered their Lïshen, most people didn’t. But hadn’t the high priestess herself stipulated that my energy was uncommon? I dared not even hope for this possibility. I was content to dream. This part of the training though required time and colossal work on oneself.

Empowered by Nagaël’s knowledge and my own abilities, I could, if I wished, become a priestess of Alkïan and Samrah, the creators, or one of the other minor gods or goddesses. By becoming a priestess, I would teach ancestral knowledge to new generations, practise the art of healing, and advise kings and queens. I would become a distinct being, an independent woman, not a dolled-up puppet presiding over feasts under her husband’s watchful eye. I yearned for more, though I didn’t yet know exactly what, but I wanted more.

The life of a priestess was not without its difficulties and loneliness, as they were bound to celibacy. It was the only alternative to marriage. I pondered all this as I was led to a dormitory where three people were already sleeping. The room was spacious enough and smelled of herbs, wild flowers and was clean. The beds were simple, equipped with mosquito nets, which, incidentally, provided the only semblance of privacy if one could speak of privacy in such a context.

I had a simple wooden chest for my few personal belongings. My dresses here would be of no use. Like all the other young girls, I had a uniform, a white tunic with a long belt.

After the priestesses left, I changed into my night attire. I wondered how Antares was faring. I had barely had time to kiss him before they took him away. It was a new place for him too; perhaps he was frightened. I decided to slip outside, Altaïr in my arms. I had spotted the stables; I headed there, trying to hide in the shadows. Upon arrival, I located Antares. The animal recognised me immediately, and I stroked his neck and ears, whispering reassuring words. But I did not linger for fear of being caught. I returned in the same manner to my quarters. I had to wait in a corner when I saw two priestesses pass by. I was intrigued by the subject of their conversation when I heard the elder say:

“They are all gathered here now.”

“It’s such a responsibility, and they are so young,” The younger one lamented.

“I know, but they have been chosen. All we can do now is pray to the gods for them and for Nëmea, that this threat never comes to fruition,” The elder declared in a grave tone.

“May Alkïan and Samrah hear you,” The younger said.

Once they had moved away, I hurried into my dormitory, quickly slipping into my bed, Altaïr beside me. What were these priestesses talking about? Who did they gather here? For what purpose? What was this dreadful vision for all of us? Altaïr growled pulling me away from my thoughts. What was the point of wondering about that, perhaps I could learn more from the other girls.

“This is our new home, Altaïr, I whispered to the animal, stroking his ears to calm him.” Tomorrow, I would officially become a novice. I fell asleep listening to the breathing around me.

The next morning, I was awakened by whispers. When I half-opened my eyes, I saw two heads leaning over me.

    "Do you think she’s awake?" One of them asked.

    "I find her hair beautiful, as black as a raven’s feathers," Another commented.

    I opened my eyes fully.

    "I prefer her eyes; they’re the colour of amber," Someone remarked.

    "Give her some space and let her breathe," An imperious voice ordered.

    Suddenly, one of them screamed upon seeing Altair’s head.

    "But that’s a wolf, we must get it out of here immediately!" she said.

    "The high priestess has allowed me to keep him. He’s not dangerous; he’s just a baby," I explained, sitting up.

    "But it’s still a wolf," added the frightened girl, who was now hiding behind her companion.

    "Alright, give her some space," The authoritative girl said. "I’m Livi, fifteen years old. I arrived a moon ago from the Mahindra desert. I’m in charge of explaining how things work here."

She seemed quite proud of that responsibility. Tall for her age, with two long black braids and cat-like brown eyes slim, she stood upright. Her brown skin reminded me of caramel. I admired her poise; rarely had I seen such confidence in someone so young.

    "And this is Tillen, thirteen, from the kingdom of Dirïa," she said, pointing to the girl who had been scared by Altaïr.

    Tillen was a blonde, still in the plumpness of childhood, with big blue eyes and a perpetual smile, when not fearful.

    "This Maïa, fourteen, from Tovelin," continued Livi.

    Maïa was a brunette with clear eyes and long hair that almost reached mid-thigh. It had to require a lot of time to take care of it.

    "And what’s your name?" Maïa asked.

    "I’m Danaé, I’m fourteen years old, from the kingdom of Thanït, and this is Altaïr," I said, indicating the ball of fur that began to growl.

“You need to get ready, the bell will ring soon,” Maïa said.

            "The priestesses don’t tolerate tardiness,” Livi let me know.

            I get out of bed and the bell rang as they all helped gather my uniform and my clothes.

After quick ablutions, we headed to the refectory for breakfast, consisting of oat porridge and bread. I couldn’t finish my meal since we were already late for the first lesson. Throughout the day, various classes followed, such as embroidery and animal care. It was strange to go from a peaceful place for embroidery to a smelly pen to take care of goats. The work wasn’t that hard it requires organisation and some skills, the girls helped me acquire. It was done in a joyful atmosphere, everyone was singing or joking while working making time pass quickly. I felt amazing being outside, free from governesses and protocol. I didn’t have to worry about the stains on my dresses or my posture. When the bell for the last class rang, like my comrades, I ran in the field. Unlike the day before, I fell asleep immediately exhausted by all the activities.

The next day, we had to go to a training ground to become familiar with weapons and learn to handle them. This surprised me a bit. I didn’t know this was part of the training for an accomplished woman or a priestess. My mother and older sister, both educated in Nagaël, had never mentioned this. Our world had been at peace for decades now, and women, anyway, did not partake in combat. Livi enlightened me about Nagaël’s traditions.

    Weapon training was recently added to our duties. The ladies of Nagaël think it might be necessary to learn to fight," Livi explained. "It’s not good for a woman to be defenceless. There are times when men aren’t there to protect us. Even if one is a princess surrounded by several guards.

She noticed my surprise.

"Yes, we know who you are. I’ve heard the priestesses talking about it among themselves," Livi confirmed.

"I don’t think you’re a princess; you’re not capricious," Tillen observed.

I smiled gratefully at her remark, relieved by their reaction. I had been worried that my new comrades might sideline me.

In Nagaël, princesses were scarce lately. They either went to the temple, or the priestesses came to them. Tradition dictated that all princesses be trained there, though, mingling with the commoners’ daughters. But this tradition had waned over the years. I was determined to go there, especially after discovering a work on Nagaël’s teachings in the dusty archives of the court’s historiographer.

Initially, my mother vehemently opposed my continuing my education there. She probably sensed it wasn’t just about education, but I also harboured a deep-seated desire to become a priestess – an inconceivable notion for her. However, persistent pleading and my father’s support eventually swayed her. Even then, she hoped the idea would fade from my mind.

"By coming to Nagaël, I believe we are leaving all our lives behind. It’s the only place in the world where we’re all equal," Maïa declared.

"I’m just a novice, stung by nettles," I added, looking at my reddened hands from picking the plant for a remedy.

I didn’t feel like a princess here, but a simple novice. Not even a week and I was certain my mother would have been mortified by my transformation, running in the sun with Altaïr, being barefoot, hair a mess, climbing trees. Tillen had taught me how to spat cherries’ stone as far as I could and we did regular competitions. Soon I would surpass the master.   

"I want to live here all my life and become a priestess. I’d prefer that over marrying a husband who would try to control me," Livi said with fervour.

Livi seemed knowledgeable about the priesthood, always the first to rise and the last to bed, poring over books about the next day’s topics. We invariably turned to her for answers. I couldn’t be as definitive in my choice, though priesthood was very tempting. I had to consider my parents’ wishes. ‘Princesses,’ my mother often said, ‘owe themselves to their kingdom, their land, their homeland.’

"I wouldn’t mind a husband if it were Caynan," Tillen said, smirking.

"Who is Caynan?" I asked, the name sounding familiar.

"He’s splendid," Tillen replied.

"Tell me, Tillen, is this an art you cultivate, the inability to answer questions coherently?" Livi teased.

"Caynan is a knight of Orzon," Tillen declared proudly.

The Order of Orzon comprised the most valiant knights in the world of Nëmea, an elite corps of the bravest, independent, and neutral warriors, tasked with maintaining peace among the kingdoms. When Nëmea’s equilibrium was threatened, the Resh, the general of Orzon, assumed command over the kingdoms, his word law. Once peace was restored, he relinquished power. The Resh, a king without a kingdom, thus wielded significant influence and respect.

The last major conflict was about thirty years ago, when the Sulren, a neighbouring people from the south, attempted to invade our lands. The situation was resolved after several battles and the signing of a peace treaty. Since then, the Luxens’ power to foresee the future had always prepared us for such invasions. The Luxens, soothsayers, could glimpse the future through the Coldran, a luminous stone discovered in the sea by a fisherman a century ago. It had been placed in the temple of Aceluna, until a pilgrim touched it and saw the future, becoming the first Luxen.

    "Caynan is the son of the High Priestess. His father’s identity remains unknown. The wildest rumours circulate about him," Maïa explained. "Some say his father is a king."

    "He has the presence of a prince, and he is said to be an outstanding fighter," Livi continued.

    "I didn’t know the High Priestess had a son," I said, stunned, as I massaged my aching hands.

    "Leave your hands alone," Maïa ordered. "It won’t change anything. We’ll fetch vinegar from the kitchens, which will relieve you."

    "Vinegar? Does that help?" I wondered.

    "There’s a lot you don’t know, but you’ll learn," Livi said with a smile. "You’ll learn."

Indeed, I had learned, as had my companions. Those years had gone by so quickly. The loneliness and doubts were gone. I had created my own family. Arriving shy and apprehensive, I had become an accomplished young woman. I also discovered that I could be more than that; my Lïshen was uncommon. The high priestess had known this from our first meeting. I could be a priestess, an independent woman. I just had to work hard and persistently until I had my energy, my power under control. Anything was possible.

For four years, we had learned to sew, weave, spin, and embroider. We had studied science and more. We had deciphered all the pages of the world’s history, from its creation by Alkïan and Samrah to the birth of the kingdoms. Then, while many returned home after the traditional three years of instruction, we had stayed an extra year. We had further our education in other fields, possessing the necessary predispositions. We had learned to decipher signs from nature, understand animals, speak to them in the sacred language of the ancients, and tame them. We could accurately predict the weather, foresee bountiful harvests, and had perfected ourselves in the art of remedies and healing. Above all, we had learned to move objects through our thoughts, sense certain things before they happened, for instance predict where an opponent would land a blow in a fight. We were gifted, the high priestess told us, which brought greater responsibility. However, there was still a long way to go.

But now, we had to leave a place that had been our home for all these years. In fact, after four years, the first phase of our education was complete. The second phase was reserved for those wishing to embrace the priesthood. To assess the determination and will of the contenders, a test remained. We had to leave the sanctuary of the island and stay in the world for twelve moons, a year. If, after experiencing all the temptations and pleasures of the world, we did not succumb, then we could return to Nagaël. Only then could the final apprenticeship begin, holding mysteries and secrets, granting power few possessed. But the path was difficult for the aspirants, as we were cut off from everything in Nagaël.

Yet, I knew that by ‘temptation’ they primarily meant men and the impulses of the heart. This was one of the main reasons those aspiring to become priestesses did not return to the sacred island. I would gladly give up my princess finery and the dull life of the court. Furthermore, I didn’t think there was a man extraordinary enough to distract me from my desire to learn ancestral and mythical knowledge. Even so, returning after the twelve moons was not a victory, only time could tell if we were worthy.

Standing on that hill, surrounded by my sisters, I was convinced here was my place and nowhere else.

We sang with one voice, full of emotion, and ended our song with a resounding cry that tore through the night. In response, the wind blew so hard it seemed to lift us. Then we opened our eyes, looked at each other, and laughed out loud.

We threw ourselves into each other’s arms, then rolled through the thick grass, laughing. Our laugh quietened and we settled comfortably on the ground.

 I lay down on the grass, gazing at the stars, imitated by my companions. How many times had we come to this hill, all together, after bedtime, to talk and promise never to leave each other?

"Lady Syllen used to say a journey was always an adventure," I said.

"Even if one knows the destination, the path, and what one will discover along the way was a mystery,” Maïa said.

"She drank too much," Tillen commented reproachfully.

We all laughed, reminiscing about our old teacher. A wise woman, but her only fault was that she was a little too fond of wine, which made her drowsy in the middle of her classes. Thus, we had the opportunity to escape for a few moments. By the time she came to her senses, we had already returned to our seats, looking focused.

"Are you afraid, Princess Danaé, to return to your palace? Does the life of a peasant suit you better?" Livi asked me mockingly.

"Let’s say I lived part of my life as a peasant woman, as you say. The peasant woman is freer, her life has fewer constraints. I will miss it. I will miss you all," I revealed.

"Please, let’s not start the tearful farewells," Livi begged.

"Anyway, we’ll meet again for Danaé’s sister’s wedding," Maïa commented.

My older sister Elmide was getting married to the crown prince of the kingdom adjoining ours, Antiorh, in a few weeks. The king, and especially the queen, spared no expense for the wedding of their eldest daughter. From what my little sister Mahssïa had told me, my mother wanted something phenomenal. It was not only about marrying off her daughter, but showing all the other kingdoms how prosperous and powerful Thanït was.

When I heard the news, I was quick to ensure my friends were on the guest list. They had been very excited, especially Tillen.

"As for me, I will write to you every day," Tillen promised.

"You’ll have a lot of spare time," Livi told her.

"You have no heart," Tillen retorted.

"Well, I brought something," Maïa interrupted. She took a bag by her side, pulled out a bottle of apple liqueur and some cups. "I think it’s time to drink to the future," she said.

Maïa handed each of us a goblet, filled it with liquor, then raised her own.

"I’m drinking to a promising future, to indestructible friendships," Maïa said.

"I drink to peace, to new relations, and to new adventures," Livi added.

"I raise my cup to the years gone by and the experience I have gained," I said.

"I’ll drink to our future unions," Tillen announced.

We all turned to her in consternation and amazement. It was no surprise; Tillen didn’t want to be a priestess, she wanted a husband and a dozen children.

 "I want to marry Maudin,” she said, blushing,

"That young man you met last summer at your grandmother’s funeral?" Maïa asked.

"That’s right," replied Tillen, "We write to each other regularly."

"Has he proposed?" I asked impatiently.

"Not yet," replied Tillen.

"You want to get married, to a man who hasn’t proposed yet," Livi concluded.

"I’m sure he will," Tillen said confidently.

"Are you sure? You haven’t seen much of each other in the last few years," Maïa argued.

"We’re childhood friends, we know each other well enough," said Tillen. "I know it, I feel it in my bones; we’re made for each other."

"You can feel it in your bones? What if it’s a mistake?" Livi asked.

"I’m not wrong," Tillen insisted.

“Let’s wait and see,” Maïa declared.

"You must be sure of yourself. And who would want you, miss, I wetted my bed until I was fourteen?" Livi said teasingly.

Tillen stood, "That’s not true!" Tillen yelled, “How dare you, on guard!”

She picked up a piece of wood near her, while Livi did the same. Maïa rolled her eyes, and I shook my head as we watched them. We both made ourselves more comfortable and began to drink our liquors. Maïa noticed our lack of light, sat cross-legged, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands.

"Lucrïa!" she said, spreading her hands. A sudden gust lifted her hair, the Lïshen pulsed around her.

Then, hundreds of fireflies approached, drawn to her. Blowing on them, Maïa scattered them on either side of where we were seated to spread their light, illuminating our surroundings.

"Thank you," I said. "I can finally make out the colour of my drink."

"I’m happy to see I can now attract fireflies and not mosquitoes as well," Maïa replied.

We could attain these results after a rigorous journey and it was only the beginning. We dedicated countless hours to honing our skills, learning to harness our energy and harmonise it with that of nature. The goal was to become one with it, to seamlessly blend into the natural world and utilise its power, borrowing it. Yet, mastering the forces of the universe was far from simple. Our approach had to be marked by a serene and respectful demeanour, coupled with strict self-discipline. Emotions posed a significant risk in this delicate process. A novice swayed by feelings or overwhelmed with negative emotions could inadvertently disturb the natural balance, creating ripples of disruption in the whole to which we all belonged.

Our two friends continued their fruitless struggle, shouting cries of attack, threats of terrible suffering, and eternal damnation at each other.

There was no point in intervening; they would tire soon enough. Having the ability to predict their opponent’s moves, the fight would always end without a winner. Additionally, this power consumed a lot of energy, so they exhausted themselves faster. Indeed, a few minutes later, after parrying their respective blows, they both collapsed at our side, out of breath. I handed each of them their drink.

"I won," Tillen announced, panting.

"Let us drink, then, to Tillen’s future marriage and happiness," I said.

Livi gave me a disapproving look as I raised my cup to my lips. We toasted again and finished the bottle, but the sound of the bells reminded us it was time to return to our duties.

In the same breath, we rushed down the hill to arrive in time for the rites honouring the Moon goddess, Orca. We didn’t have the opportunity to begin the rites with the others, as one of the priestesses had already informed us we had been summoned by the High Priestess. We exchanged panicked glances, wondering if the High Lady knew about our recent excursion to a nearby islet. We had been so cautious and we had learned with time to cover our tracks well. Quickly straightening our clothes, we hurried to her quarters.

A large fire burned in the hearth, and as always, I felt a certain apprehension entering the place. I had rarely visited her apartments.

The High Priestess, as impressive as ever, seemed unaffected by the years. Seated behind a large wooden desk, she was engrossed in her correspondence and didn’t raise her head upon our arrival. We stood upright, waiting for her to speak. After long seconds that felt like minutes, Lady Messua finally deigned to glance at us.

"Follow me," she ordered, rising.

We followed her into a second room opening into an inner garden fragrant with jasmine and lilac. We had never set foot in this part of her apartments. Several rooms surrounded the garden. We entered a room with a high, vaulted ceiling, decorated with a map of the stars and constellations. The doors opened to the garden, let in a cool breeze. The candlelight gave the place an almost ethereal appearance.

The High Priestess took a torch and lit the large basin in the centre of the room. High flames leapt up, and she seemed to lose herself in the fire for a moment, warming her hands by the flames. As she gazed at the fire, I took the opportunity to observe her, as always fascinated. She seemed to fill the entire space with her presence, radiating an aura of peace, something reassuring that made you want to find refuge in her arms.

It was said she had appeared at Nagaël one night, having made the journey alone, and hadn’t left the island until her appointment as High Priestess. Rumours spoke of her extraordinary talent. As if sensing my thoughts, she lifted her head and met my gaze, a smirk on her lips. I stood tall before the woman who had been like a mother and father to me, strict but always fair.

   At last, she spoke, "This is the end of an era, my children; the conclusion of your childhood and the beginning of your adult lives, your lives as women," she began, her melodious voice echoing in the room. "Regardless of the destiny your star has preordained for you, you remain eternal guardians of knowledge that has been in existence since the dawn of time. I have observed each of you grow and develop, and I am immensely proud of what you have achieved. You are, without doubt, worthy of serving Alkïan and Samrah. In recognition of your accomplishments, I would like to bestow upon you a gift."

She took a wooden casket beside her and retrieved four necklaces with ochre-coloured stones.

    "Here, my children, are stones from this land; hence you may always remember your bond to this island and that this family is now yours. They will serve as a protection."

Approaching Tillen, she gently placed the first necklace around her neck.

"This is Soa Tillen, for you. Blessed are you, guardian," the High Priestess proclaimed, then kissed her forehead. Tillen’s face lit up with joy, turning to us with a blissful smile, cradling the stone that shimmered golden in the light.

Soa, meaning ‘guardian’ in the sacred language, was a rank preceding that of a priestess, reserved for those showing great potential. Lady Messua then moved towards Maïa.

"And for you, Soa Maïa. Blessed are you, guardian."

Maïa, trembling with emotion, accepted the honour. Overcome with gratitude, she reverently kissed the High Priestess’s hand.

Next was Livi, already bowing her head in deep respect, clearly the most determined among us to become a priestess of Alkïan and Samrah.

"For you, Soa Livi. Blessed are you, guardian."

Livi took the stone, gazing upon it with reverence, then curtsied deeply. The High Priestess finally faced me, holding the last necklace.

"This is for you Soa Danaé. Blessed are you, guardian."

She lifted my face gently, her hand caressing my cheek.

"Depart now, guardians, with my blessing. Be forever worthy of Nagaël’s legacy. Uphold the guardians’ values: justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom. Please never forget, Nagaël isn’t merely a place but an idea, a spirt, it never dies and lives forever, in your heart. May your journey keep you from dark paths and in the light. I eagerly await those who will return in twelve moons. May Samrah light your way, and Alkïan guide your steps."

"Blessed be their names, we depart serenely," we each declared in turn.

We then left the place, radiant. On our way to the temple for the rites of Orca, I felt the rugged texture of the stone gifted by the High-Priestess. I wanted to come back. I felt there was so much I had to learn.

    "It only comforts me," Livi said, "That’s what I want, to be a priestess."

    "And you will be, all you have to do is pass the final test," Maïa assured.

    "I hope she’ll never be a High Priestess," Tillen whispered. "She’d scare away all suitors with her exacting standards. What? You’ve been here for already two days and you don’t yet know by heart the thousand pages of the book of remedies?" she added, imitating Livi.

This made us all burst out laughing, knowing how meticulous and demanding Livi could be. For her, doing her best was no consolation if it resulted in failure.

We went to the temple to take part in the rites of Orca. At the temple’s entrance, we each took a torch and followed the other priestesses and novices to light our torches. Then a priestess prayed to Orca.

"Our eternal devotion to you, Orca, goddess of the moon that illuminates the night…"

But my mind wandered, thinking about my return to my homeland and the separation it entailed. I was attached to this island; it had seen me grow. Nagaël had shaped who I was today. The world beyond the island seemed so distant. Every fibre of my being belonged to this place. I had only seen my family sporadically over the past four years, and only the women. We communicated mainly by letter and I hadn’t seen them in a year. I thought I would die of grief when I left them and felt a little guilty that I had managed their absence so well. After all, time hadn’t changed my unwavering love for them. They were with me always. I longed to smell my mother’s perfume again and snuggle in my father’s strong arms.

I was brought back to reality by a nudge from Livi. Already, the priestess was presenting the offerings to the moon goddess. Her huge statue stood majestic and haughty, depicting a beautiful woman with fine features and a snake coiled around her. She was the embodiment of beauty itself, a source of seduction. Throughout the kingdoms of Nëmea, women offered gifts to Orca to become irresistible, while men gave offerings to remain eternally strong. I joined my voice with the others in repeating the praises to Orca. Then, in procession, torch in hand, we made our way, singing, to the sacred spring. Upon arrival, we bathed naked in the moonlight, singing again, our voices echoing through the night.

Then I lay naked on a rock, a little away from the group. I cherished the freedom of the island, feeling as free and wild as the forest animals. Focusing on several small stones in front of me as if they were the only things in my universe, I watched them slowly lift off the ground and dance in the air for several seconds. Finally, as they fell back, I caught my breath. I had held on longer than the last time, but I was still progressing slowly. In a year, with the teaching I would receive, I could do so much more. I heard Tillen shouting my name; it was already time to return to the dormitories, for tomorrow we would have to leave the island.

The gaiety of the evening gave way to a sombre quiet as we entered the confines of our dormitory, each lost in our thoughts about the looming departure. It was in grave silence that the four of us packed our bags, the only sound being chests opening and closing.

Livi broke the silence when she found a document in one of her coffers, quickly scanned the text, and laughed.

    "Do you remember when we sneaked out to watch the fires of Arreïs?" She asked.

The bonfires celebrated the summer solstice, and we had gone to a village festival on a small nearby island. We drank wine, feasted, and danced after the celebrations in Nagaël.

Unfortunately, our escapade did not go unnoticed. We had returned at dawn with rosy cheeks and dishevelled headgear, dressed as simple peasant women, trying to be discreet. To our utter surprise and shock, the High Priestess, accompanied by other priestesses, was waiting for us in the dormitory.

Our prepared excuse, if caught, was to pretend we had gone to the beach to light a fire for the solstice and had fallen asleep there. But the smell of wine on us probably complicated matters.

    "Where have you been?" the High Priestess asked calmly.

We remained silent, bowing our heads. Then the High Priestess walked over to Tillen and lifted her chin.

    "My dear child, tell me where you have been."

We knew at once we were caught, for Tillen was incapable of lying, especially to the High Priestess, whom she feared. To add to our bad luck, Tillen was the most tipsy, which didn’t bode well.

    "Come on, speak, my child," Lady Messua urged in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Tillen wrung her hands, glancing at us, while we encouraged her to say as little as possible. She hesitated for only a few seconds before spilling everything.

    "We went to the village on the North Island to celebrate the summer solstice. We drank wine, very good wine, by the way. I wonder how they make it. We disguised ourselves as villagers; no one knew we were from Nagaël, there were too many people," she said, hiccupping.

    "And what else did you do?" the High Priestess asked in a dangerously calm voice.

    "We also danced with some young men, and one of them stole a kiss from me," Tillen added, with a silly smile sealing our fate.

Livi shook her head, Maïa clasped her hands as if in prayer, and I slap a hand to my forehead. The High Priestess looked at each of us in turn.

    "You have broken the rules of this island," she thundered, her voice echoing throughout the room. "You know you’re forbidden from visiting the surrounding villages. Your reckless behaviour is unspeakable."

    "Don’t be too harsh, my lady. We just wanted to have fun. You were young once too … I think," Tillen blurted out.

    "Tillen, please, be quiet," I implored.

    "Well," Lady Messua said with a smile, "You are to wash the walls and floors of all the temples and dormitories. The kitchens need to be polished from top to bottom. The sheep, cows, and goats’ pens need a thorough cleaning. Weeds must be pulled from all vegetable gardens, and you will assist in the laundry. I also want the infirmary restored to its former glory," she enumerated.

    "You can’t be serious? You must have some punishments left," Tillen remarked with a chuckle. "We were also planning to go to the harvest celebrations in Kassis in a moon."

    "I will strangle her," Livi muttered, taking a step towards Tillen.

    "I’d rather pull out her tongue," Maïa added.

    "Enough!" Lady Messua interjected. "In addition to these tasks, I have another activity for you. You will copy Menosan’s books."

Menosan’s books contained the story of the world of Nëmea, consisting of ten volumes of several hundred pages each. We would need moons to copy them, making it impossible for us to participate in any entertainment. We were doomed to watch our comrades enjoy themselves while confined to the manuscript room – an unbearable thought.

"We humbly beg your forgiveness, Your Venerable, for our shameful conduct," Livi apologised.

Then the lady exited the dormitory as we curtsied deeply. Tired from the evening and her confessions, Tillen collapsed onto her bed, snoring.

"Looking back, it’s a miracle you survived that night, Tillen," I commented.

"Livi wanted to suffocate you with your pillow, and I considered more refined torture, like burning your toes," Maïa added.

"You’ve made me pay enough," Tillen said. "I think I’ve done the most penance."

"But how did the High Priestess learn about our escapade?" I wondered. We had taken every precaution.

We had prepared our mission so well, we even had rehearsals days before, we had executed it flawlessly. The odds had been in our favours. To this day it had always baffled me that we had been caught.

"We can, I think, attribute it to the mysteries of Nagaël," Livi replied, placing the document in one of her trunks.

"We have an important task to complete," Maïa reminded us.

She retrieved a large notebook from the secret compartment of her cupboard. It was our shared diary, with our initials L.D.M.T. engraved on the cover. Every night, we recorded our thoughts and adventures. The diary held our memories, pressed plants, flowers, locks of our hair, and whimsical portraits of our teachers. Tonight, we were to write our final entries as novices in Nagaël. Watching Tillen write with concentration, I struggled to find the right words. How did one conclude an era? My companions wrote of where they expected to be in twelve moons. Tillen envisioned marriage, Livi and Maïa, a return to Nagaël. Yet, as I focused on the future, strangely I couldn’t visualise mine, either in Nagaël or within my father’s palace walls. As if I would be lost somewhere in between, the thought made me anxious.

"Come on, Princess," Livi urged, "This is the first time you’ve lacked inspiration."

I can’t foresee the future, but tonight, I am certain of one thing: in twelve moons, I will meet my destiny, I wrote, unsure of what else to say.

We agreed to preserve our diary for posterity. Wrapping it in a garment, we placed it in a small wooden chest and quietly proceeded to our hill, our cherished meeting spot. Near a tree, we buried the chest. Joining our hands to have enough energy, we focused on the chest until it sank deep into the earth by itself, the Lïshen pulsing around us. Then, we covered the hole and returned to our dormitory.

We spent the night reminiscing, falling asleep just before dawn. But it was already time to rise for the journey to our respective destinations. The farewells were difficult, but the thought of reuniting for Elmide’s wedding consoled us.

The High Priestess bid us farewell, offering remedies for the road and our homes. As I was about to join my escort at the island’s entrance, to my utter surprise a priestess stopped me. The High Priestess wished to see me before I left. She led me to her apartments and closed the doors behind us.

"I’d like to ask you a favour," Lady Messua said.

“Of course, your venerable,” I eagerly said, extremely curious as to how I could be of use to her.

"Before you return home, I have a mission for you," she said. "I need you to take something to Kaendra, one of the Luxen, at the Golden Temple of Aceluna. Yet, you must keep the real reason for this task a secret. Swear on your honour as a guardian that you will tell no one, not even your friends."

This request seemed odd, especially with all the priestesses on the island and a messenger visiting weekly. But how could I refuse a favour to the High-Priestess, as unusual as it seemed. Nonetheless, intrigued, I swore to fulfil her mission.

"As a Soa, you’ll be able to approach the Luxens. Just show the stone around your neck. If asked, say you’re on a pilgrimage and convey the High Priestess’s greetings to the Luxen. It’s imperative that you hand over this bag personally."

"I will do as you wish, my lady," I said, bowing my head.

Then she took a small leather bag out of a box and handed it to me. It wasn’t very heavy, and when I touched it, I had the impression that it contained stones.

"Keep this bag out of sight, guard it well and don’t look into it, my child. You should also deliver this message word for word: ’My memories are as hot as flames, and deeper than the sea. They will not be blown away by the wind but will anchor themselves forever in the earth.’”

I repeated the message, trying to decipher its meaning. It remained enigmatic. The secrecy shrouding the entire enterprise meant I was unlikely to understand its words. It pained me not to discuss it with my friends; perhaps they could have shed some light on it. I had sworn an oath to the High Priestess of Nagaël though, and I could never betray her trust.

"Shall I send you a letter to inform you of the completion of my mission, my lady?"

"When you deliver the message and give the bag, I will know," she replied simply.

I was tempted for a moment to ask her how she would find out about it, but I restrained myself. She moved closer and hugged me, something she has never done before, I held her tight leaning on her shoulder. A helpless sorrow invaded my whole being. I didn’t want to let go. She took my face in her hands and wipe a tear I didn’t know had fallen on my cheek. Her lips stretched into a sad smile. I sensed she wanted to say more but then seemed to hold back.

"Good luck, my child. Never forget what you have learned here. Go now, may Samrah light your way and Alkïan guide your steps."

"Blessed be their names, my lady. I leave with serenity," I replied, bowing.

After a final bow, I left the room, making my way towards the island’s entrance. The meeting had the air of a farewell more than a mere goodbye, leaving me with a peculiar sensation. Suddenly, the bag of stones felt heavier in my hand. I tucked it into the pocket of my cloak, waving to some of the novices and priestesses as I passed. Casting one last glance over the island, I saw children scampering in all directions, attending their weekly classes. Novices were assembling for their daily teachings – a familiar scene I had witnessed countless times. Yet, that day, an unusual feeling stirred in my stomach.
Upon reaching the island’s entrance, I boarded a small boat, guided by a priestess, bound for the kingdom of Thanït. I stroked my wolf Altaïr, who grunted in response. He had been remarkably calm all day, perhaps sensing my mood. I gazed back at the island, watching until its people, buildings, and forests became indistinct blurs. A wave of sadness hit me again and tears cascaded down my cheeks.