CHAPTER 67: CH 67: EXTERNAL FORCES- PART 1

The main hall was wide and filled with the low, murmuring rhythm of prayers. Lines of kneeling devotees swayed gently, their hands clasped, eyes closed in reverence.

Incense curled toward the vaulted ceiling, and soft sunlight from stained-glass windows painted colored shapes over the polished stone floor.

At the far front stood the man who oversaw it all—High Priest Rudy, draped in immaculate white and gold, his posture the very image of grace.

His reputation was spotless. To the faithful, he was a beacon of virtue—calm, pious, untouchable.

But the moment Lysera and Irielle’s eyes fell on him, both women instinctively stiffened.

They exchanged a brief glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Something was wrong.

No matter how serene his expression appeared, their instincts whispered danger.

They meant to pass by without a word, slipping through the hall unnoticed. But fate—or perhaps Rudy himself—had other ideas.

With a faint, knowing smile, the High Priest stepped down from the dais.

His movements were slow and deliberate, each step unhurried yet precise, as though the floor itself welcomed his tread.

"Welcome."

Rudy’s voice carried easily despite the soft hush of prayers behind them. His gaze shifted between them, resting just long enough to notice the set of their jaws, the shadows in their eyes.

Then his eyes lingered on Irielle. His lips held their smile, but his gaze sharpened ever so slightly.

The delicate, pointed tips of her ears did not escape him. For the briefest moment, his face darkened—just a flicker, but enough for someone observant to notice—before it was gone.

"My, my. What is an elf doing here? I had thought your kind followed the old ways—worship of nature and the wilds, not... our blessed goddess."

He said, voice warm but carrying a current beneath.

His smile curved further, though it did not reach his eyes.

"Could it be... my faith has managed to sway even an elf?"

His tone carried the lilt of a jest, but the weight beneath it was undeniable.

Irielle’s expression hardened, her hand twitching toward the weapon at her side. She took a step forward, but Lysera’s arm shot out, barring her path.

"We are here on official business. From the Investigation Bureau. We’re investigating the recent attack in the area."

Lysera said evenly, her gaze locked on Rudy.

For the smallest fraction of a second, Rudy’s lips tightened. The pleasant mask slipped—peeved, irritated—then returned.

"Ah... of course."

He murmured, voice like warm honey. He stepped closer, his hand coming to rest lightly on Lysera’s shoulder.

The touch was casual, almost friendly—but Lysera felt it instantly.

A pressure. A whisper threading into her mind, urging her toward compliance, toward stillness. A mind-influencing spell.

Had she been human—or of a lesser race—it might have sunk its hooks into her thoughts, guiding her like a puppet.

But her blood was not so easily touched. The influence slid off her mind like water over glass.

She kept her expression smooth, refusing to let even the faintest flicker of resistance show.

Rudy, oblivious to his failure, let his hand fall away.

"Then I will not keep you. May your work here be light, and may you enjoy your time in our humble temple."

He said softly.

With a final, practiced smile, he turned and walked away, the flowing fabric of his robes whispering over the stone.

Lysera and Irielle watched him go. When he was out of earshot, they met each other’s eyes again.

"He’s trouble."

Lysera said quietly.

Irielle gave a short, humorless laugh.

"I knew High Priestess Jenna was bad news the moment I saw her. And now it’s clear—she’s gotten Kana into something dangerous. More dangerous than even you want to admit."

Her gaze sharpened.

Lysera exhaled slowly, but she didn’t disagree.

______

In the far corridor, Rudy’s pleasant stride continued until he reached the bend. There, his expression shifted completely.

The warm mask fell away, leaving a shadow of irritation. He glanced down at his hand. A faint tingling still clung to his fingertips.

He had felt it—the subtle, satisfying shift when his spell should have taken root. He was certain it had. That woman was under his control now.

Or so he believed.

His confidence remained intact as he moved deeper into the temple, though a sudden pulse of pain rippled through his chest. His steps faltered.

His breathing quickened. Without breaking stride entirely, he turned sharply toward a side hall, moving with far more urgency than before.

Once inside his private quarters, he shut the door with a decisive click and turned the lock. The sunlight here was dimmer, blocked by thick curtains.

He crossed to a carved wooden chest, pulling it open with a practiced motion. From a hidden compartment, he retrieved a small porcelain vial. Inside, nestled in soft cloth, was a single pill of deep crimson.

His benefactor’s gift.

Rudy did not hesitate. He swallowed it dry, feeling the burn travel down his throat. Within moments, the pain ebbed, replaced by a steady warmth. The sensation of his powers—his true powers—flowed back into him.

He inhaled slowly, eyes closing as he centered himself. The mask of the High Priest—the gentle voice, the benevolent smiles—was already sliding back into place.

He would play his role for as long as needed. Until the day the temple was his entirely... or until his plans reached the point where masks were no longer necessary.

A knock broke the stillness of the high priest’s chamber.

It wasn’t rushed or timid—it was deliberate, measured, as if the one behind it knew exactly when to intrude.

Rudy’s gaze flicked toward the door, the faintest shadow crossing his expression. But it was gone in the next heartbeat, replaced with the calm, unreadable mask he always wore.

"Enter."

He said.

One of his followers stepped inside, head bowed so low the fringe of his robe brushed the floor.

"High Priest, it is time. The temple awaits your presence."

The young man said softly.

The corners of Rudy’s lips lifted into that perfect smile—the one polished over years, the one that seemed kind enough to win hearts yet distant enough to command respect.

"Very well."

He replied, his voice smooth, unhurried.

He rose, adjusting his robe until the folds draped flawlessly over his shoulders. Every motion was deliberate, as though he were performing for an unseen audience.

Following his attendant out into the corridor, he let the door close behind him with a soft click.

The air outside was cooler, carrying the faint scent of incense from the sanctuary. His earlier tension bled away, replaced with a slow, steady rise of confidence.

Each step echoed lightly against the polished floor, a rhythm that matched the pulse of his thoughts.

By the time they reached the grand hall, he was already immersed in the role—the benevolent guide, the embodiment of the goddess’s will.

Other priests and attendants turned to greet him, their eyes bright with respect. Rudy answered each nod with a smile just warm enough to be memorable.

Yes. This was his stage.

The hum of prayers drifted in from the main sanctuary, blending with the curling trails of incense smoke.

Rudy inhaled deeply, letting it settle in his chest like a reminder that the temple was his domain.

Everything was falling into place. Every piece of the board was moving where he wanted.

He stepped into the sanctuary, golden light spilling from the effigy ahead. It caught on his robes, casting him in a soft, divine glow. His smile deepened.

The mask was perfect, and in the eyes of all who saw him, the High Priest was nothing less than the goddess’s most loyal servant.