The Fiery Crown Cycle: A Dragon's Rebirth

Chapter 152

"Tiriel, you grow more insolent by the day. Have you forgotten every scrap of etiquette?"

"Cast this thing out," another elf sneered, looking down their nose at the unconscious human. "How dare a member of a slave race soil your presence?"

The High Priest did not speak immediately. He stood in silence, his ancient gaze sweeping over the crowd. He saw the emerald eyes of his kin, and in them, he saw only a deep-seated, rotting arrogance.

Thud.

He drove the base of his oaken staff hard into the earth.

The dull impact silenced the murmurs instantly. The arrogance in their eyes flickered and died, replaced by a fearful reverence as they looked upon the withered face of their leader. They trusted him. They worshipped him.

And that was exactly why he had to lie to them.

Forgive me, Great Mother, he prayed silently, the weight of his decision settling like a stone in his gut. I do this for them.

"Just now," the High Priest announced, his voice trembling with feigned ecstasy, "I received an Oracle from the Great Mother."

The clearing went still. The Wood Elves froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to rapturous disbelief.

It had been millennia. Not since the War of Sequences had the Mother spoken to their branch of the race. They had thought themselves abandoned, punished for the sins of their ancestors.

"The punishment... is it over?" an elder whispered. "She has not forsaken her children."

The elder dropped to his knees, clasping his hands over his heart. Tears streamed from his closed eyes as he began to chant a prayer of gratitude. Seeing the elders break, the younger elves followed suit, falling to the grass like wheat before a scythe, offering up their devotion to the goddess.

The High Priest watched them, and a tear—this one genuine—traced a path down his wrinkled cheek. They were foolish, yes, but they were still faithful.

"Hear the Oracle of the Mother," he intoned, his voice projecting across the clearing. "My children, the time of suffering has ended. I grant you new guidance. Revere Nature. Revere Life. And above all... cast aside your Pride."

"We hear and obey the Mother's will!"

The elves opened their eyes. The gloom and bitterness that had plagued them for centuries seemed to evaporate, replaced by beaming smiles and tear-streaked faces. They were no longer orphans of the divine. Grace had returned.

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The High Priest turned his attention to the human lying on the grass.

The man was fading. A sickly, sweet stench of rot wafted from the stump of his right arm.

"Tiriel," the Priest said gently. "Remove his armor."

"Yes!"

Tiriel knelt, beaming. She had wanted to save him from the start, and now she had divine mandate. The other elves said nothing; if the Mother commanded respect for life, they would respect even this lowly human.

Riiip.

With the screech of tearing fabric, Tiriel cut away the blood-soaked gambeson beneath the plate mail, revealing the man’s torso.

She paused, blinking. The human was scarred, but beneath the grime, his physique was corded with muscle, different from the lithe, wiry frames of her kin. It was a biological curiosity, nothing more—like studying a new species of beast.

The High Priest examined the wound. "The corruption is localized to the stump. The rest is mere trauma. He will live."

He gestured to the surrounding forest. "Tiriel, fetch me a bough. Living wood. About the thickness of an arm."

"At once."

She darted away, returning moments later with a straight, healthy branch. "High Priest, I have it."

"Place it against the wound."

Tiriel did as instructed, aligning the wood with the severed flesh.

The High Priest raised his staff. He began to chant, the words ancient and sibilant.

Hummmm.

The air vibrated. Six concentric rings of emerald light erupted into existence before the Priest.

As the Six-stars spell manifested, any lingering doubt in the minds of the onlookers vanished. This was high magic. The air grew heavy with the scent of ozone and blooming flowers—the undeniable signature of the Life Domain. It was the Mother's power; they were sure of it.

"A miracle..." they whispered.

The High Priest smiled at his people, though the effort seemed to etch new lines into his face. He looked suddenly older, as if the magic was fueled not by the goddess, but by the wick of his own life candle.

The emerald light washed over the branch. The wood groaned and twisted. Bark softened into skin; sap transmuted into blood. It widened, thickened, and knit itself to the human's shoulder.

The process was rapid. In less than a minute, where once there was a stick, now lay a perfectly formed arm. It was indistinguishable from a Wood Elf’s limb, pale and flawless, though it stood in stark contrast to the human's tanned, weathered skin.

The glowing rings shattered into motes of green light, drifting upward to dissolve into the sky.

Tiriel stared at the arm. The graft was seamless.

She looked up at the High Priest, her clear green eyes wide with hero worship.

"High Priest... is that a Divine Art?"

"It is, child," the Priest lied, his smile kind but weary.

"It’s amazing!"

"It is not I who is amazing, Tiriel. It is the Great Mother." He placed a trembling hand on her head, his expression shifting. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for the steel beneath the innocence.

"Tiriel. Do you wish to wield such power?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "I... yes! I want to learn!"

"Very well. Starting tomorrow, you will study the sacred runes under my tutelage."

"Truly?" Tiriel stammered, suddenly shy. "But... I am not like you, High Priest. I am not wise. "

The Priest ruffled her hair. "The Mother loves all her children equally. You have the heart for it. That is enough."

"Then I will learn!" she shouted, her voice ringing with determination.

"Good." The Priest's smile faded, replaced by the stern visage of a mentor. "But be warned. My teachings are harsh. The days of idling in the forest are over. You are walking a difficult path now. Are you truly certain?"

Tiriel looked into the High Priest's eyes. They were deep pools of ancient wisdom, heavy with secrets she could not yet understand.

She nodded firmly.

"I am ready."