CHAPTER 92: CH 92: THE TRIAL - PART 4

Once Kana and Irielle had left the square, the air seemed to settle into a strange stillness.

The faint smell of scorched stone and burnt incense lingered, clinging to the fractured pillars and the cracked tiles.

High Priestess Jenna stood in the center of it all, her white robes still smudged with ash and traces of the earlier fight.

She exhaled softly before turning to Evaya.

"Evaya, see to it that this place is cleaned up. We cannot leave it in this state."

Evaya gave a firm nod and moved to direct the remaining temple attendants.

The sound of shifting debris and soft footfalls filled the area as they began clearing the fallen stones, sweeping away splintered wood, and covering the bodies that had yet to be removed.

It was during this quiet work that the heavy, steady steps of new arrivals echoed across the courtyard.

A small party approached—armored, disciplined, and led by an older woman with sharp eyes and silver threading through her dark hair.

"High Priestess Jenna. Sergeant Delran. My party will take over the investigation from here. You don’t need to worry about anything else."

The woman greeted with a curt nod.

Evaya’s posture stiffened immediately, her gaze flicking from the newcomers to the high priestess in silent warning.

But Jenna lifted a hand, her expression calm.

"It’s fine, Evaya. There’s no need to be tense. Hand the site over to them. We’ve done our part."

Reluctantly, Evaya stepped back, allowing the newly arrived officers to spread out.

The sound of booted feet on stone became the new rhythm of the courtyard as the soldiers began their work—marking sections, moving debris, and further securing the area.

One figure in particular caught Jenna’s attention.

A young woman had moved toward the central field where the final clash had ended, her motions precise as she cleared fragments of rubble.

She was careful, methodical, almost too thorough.

"Who is that?"

Jenna asked, turning to Sergeant Delran.

Delran didn’t glance up from where she was overseeing her people.

"No need to worry. She’s new—just transferred not long ago. You don’t have to pay her any mind."

Jenna nodded, though her eyes lingered on the figure a moment longer.

She didn’t notice, nor did anyone else, the way the woman crouched low near the fallen, corrupted body of High Priest Rudy, her hands deftly slipping small vials from her belt.

In the cover of shifting debris, she collected faint traces—fragments of flesh, scraps of cloth darkened by blood—tucking them away before straightening and moving on as if nothing had happened.

The quiet efficiency of the newcomers left no room for further questions. Jenna finally turned away, allowing Sergeant Delran’s people to handle the scene.

Elsewhere, Irielle and Kana had already made their way back through the streets, the bustle of the city slowly replacing the tension of the earlier confrontation.

The moment they stepped inside, Irielle’s demeanor shifted noticeably. She was closer—physically and in mood—than she had been before.

Kana noticed immediately.

"You’re... clingier than usual."

She remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I am. Lysera isn’t here, which means I have you all to myself. I fully intend to take advantage of that."

Irielle replied without a shred of shame, looping an arm around Kana’s shoulders.

Kana gave her a flat look, but Irielle only grinned, leaning in slightly.

"First things first—we’re getting food. You’ve been through a lot today, and so have I. We’re going to sit down, eat, and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a while."

Kana hesitated for a moment, then sighed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Fine. But only because I’m hungry."

Irielle’s grin widened.

"Good. Then let’s make it a feast."

And with that, she tugged Kana toward the kitchen, her earlier tension replaced by a playful determination.

The shadow of the day’s events still lingered, but for the moment, it seemed Irielle was determined to fill the silence with warmth instead of worry.

They moved through the familiar space with an ease born from countless shared moments.

The kitchen felt warmer than usual, the faint hum of the stove and the scent of stored spices already creating a sense of comfort.

Irielle released Kana only long enough to roll up her sleeves and start pulling ingredients from cupboards—bread, vegetables, a basket of fresh eggs.

Kana leaned against the counter, watching as Irielle worked with quick, decisive movements.

"You’re acting like you’ve been waiting for this all week."

She remarked.

"I have. You’ve been pulled in every direction lately. If I don’t stake my claim on your time, someone else will."

Irielle said without looking up.

Kana raised a brow.

"Stake your claim?"

"Mm-hm. Right now, you’re mine until Lysera comes back. That’s non-negotiable."

Irielle’s lips twitched into a smirk as she chopped a bundle of herbs.

Kana shook her head, but the corners of her mouth softened into a reluctant smile.

"You make it sound like you’re guarding treasure."

"I am."

Irielle replied, meeting her gaze briefly. The words were light, but there was a quiet sincerity beneath them.

Kana turned away before the weight of that look could settle too heavily between them, reaching instead for plates.

The small clink of ceramic against wood filled the space while Irielle began working the pan, the aroma of sizzling vegetables and eggs gradually overtaking the kitchen.

By the time the food was ready, Kana found herself more relaxed than she’d been all day.

They sat across from each other at the small table, steam curling from their plates, the warmth of the meal wrapping around them like an unspoken truce against the outside world.

For a while, they ate without speaking, the only sounds the soft clink of cutlery and the occasional faint crackle from the stove cooling behind them.

Eventually, Irielle leaned back in her chair, studying Kana with that same playful determination she’d shown earlier.

"You know, I could get used to this—just you and me, no interruptions."

She said slowly.

Kana gave her a dry look but didn’t argue. Some part of her suspected Irielle really meant it.