CHAPTER 36: GENIUS

He clenched his teeth so hard it felt like they might crack. His eyes, buried under layers of cloth, somehow still burned with stubborn light as he tried lifting himself once more—only to hit the back down again.

He winced into the tight fabric covering his face. ’Who in the world wraps up someone like this?’ He’d assumed earlier that he couldn’t move his hands because of pain, but after attempting to raise his whole body a second time, it became obvious—he was bound from head to toe. Was he being hauled somewhere? Sold off like cargo?

Where was he?

Who wrapped him up like this?

How did this happen without him knowing?

And why so much pain?

It felt like his body was on fire. His brows furrowed. Did someone cover him in cotton and pour out their suppressed evil intentions on his helpless body?

He tried to recall the very last thing before all this, but everything was a blur. Regardless, he needed to get up—lying here was becoming unbearable.

He tried feeling his back to see if he could guess what platform he was resting on, but it might as well have been a rock—the pain wouldn’t allow him to guess or feel correctly. Was he just going to be like this?

Liah sat beside him, her hands resting neatly at her sides, watching him with a quiet calm as he recoiled like some wounded creature.

"You’re not supposed to move," she said, her voice slipping into his muffled ears with the same gentle calm it left her lips with.

He stopped struggling and turned toward the voice—whatever made him think he could see.

Who was that? Everything sounded distant, blurred under the layers covering even his ears. Calm as the voice had been, it was still muffled. He wanted to ask, desperately, but his mouth was bound too.

Now he really wanted to know who was responsible for his condition.

He turned his face upward again.

"The physician said you need to stay still so the treatment can take proper effect," she added.

He turned toward her again. What sort of talk was that? Stay put? Was that why he’d been tied up like this? What kind of treatment required this? And who even decided he needed treatment in the first place? Why would he need treatment?

Liah wasn’t sure what he was trying to communicate to her, since she didn’t even hear a muffled sound from him—just his tilted head. But she was at least going to keep him updated.

"The physician said he’d stop by again today," she said, pausing thoughtfully. "Though... he didn’t mention when. He did say you should be about fine by now, though."

Elmah’s eyes wanted to arch themselves, but even that felt distant. He wasn’t even sure why he needed this or why he’d been rolled up. And if he was meant to be fine already, then why was he still bangled up? And the pain—where had all this pain come from?

...

Back in Dorom...

Once the final instructions were given, the Aclove Meet drew to a close.

It was now clear that the signs from the Orb were at hand, as close as possible. Something was coming, and it threatened to be big, but many mysteries still lay unresolved, yet it was only wise to prepare in whatever way they could as Priestesses.

They bowed to the High Priestess, then filed out of the Alcove toward their newly assigned duties. But before stepping out, Rebi paused and turned towards Jezreel who had been silent, withdrawn, her quietude louder than the entire Meet had been.

Her pout deepened sadly as she clasped Jezreel’s small hands.

"Seems things don’t want us to have our happy reunion."

Jezreel’s cheeks warmed with a faint blush as she smiled. "I’m sure we’ll find a way." Even her smile carried a hint of sorrow.

All this unfolded right beside Morriba, whose raised cushion gave her enough height to stare down at the ’whoop needing’ pair . Her eyes narrowed in a flat, unimpressed slant—what exactly were these two doing?

"Should I fetch a ribbon and tie you both together?" she asked dryly.

Rebi’s eyes lit up. "You want to? Absolutely, why not?"

Jezreel smiled without a hint of hesitation.

Morriba’s lips twitched into a tired smirk. With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Those two...

After a long and dramatic farewell, Rebi finally departed, leaving only mother and daughter within the quiet Alcove.

Jezreel turned to her mother almost immediately. "When will I get to study under Rebi?"

Morriba lifted a brow. "Why the hurry? You’re still under your Nurices."

Jezreel pouted. "But I’ve finished every book in the library. I’m also conversant with the twelve Scrolls of Halo."

Her mother’s gaze flattened on her. "Conversant with what, exactly?"

"The twelve Scrolls of Halo," she said, brimming with confidence.

"Jezreel?"

"Yes, Mother."

"You’ve never even seen the Scrolls. What are you talking about?"

She blinked. "Lunia teaches me about the scrolls, so I’m conversant with them."

Morriba arched her brow while giving her a sly look "Since you’re so conversant, how many scrolls exist in the twelve Scrolls of Halo?"

Jezreel stared at her for a while, her face quietly puzzled. "Is Mother asking me a trick question?" She had to ask; it was called the twelve Scrolls for a reason, wasn’t it?

Morriba answered her, "Why would I? Answer. Go on," she urged.

"Hmm..." Jezreel squinted, then straightened, one hand resting behind her back while her index finger jabbed the air in confident demonstration. "As the name implies, the twelve Scrolls of Halo contain twelve scrolls," she said, her pride shining in her voice.

Morriba’s eyebrows moved in contrasting arcs—one high, one lazy—observing the pose of pure, blissful ignorance.

"Jezreel, you barely understand them. The twelve Scrolls of Halo aren’t really just twelve scrolls. You can’t truly know that without seeing them through to the end. And when can you even get in contact the scrolls?" she asked gently, with a hint of teasing patience.

Jezreel’s gaze slowly dropped to the floor—not from shame, but like a child yielding with quiet reluctance. "When I’ve proven myself," she said.

Morriba’s eyes remained locked on her, patient yet firm. "And how exactly do you prove yourself?"

Her head bowed lower, reluctant defeat still painted on her features. "By having Mother say so," she said, lifting a mischievous glance at her mother.

"Ah... hah—" Morriba’s face distorted in sudden surprise; she had not seen that coming. "Jezreel," she called, shooting her a side glance.

The child smiled, eyes darting to the side. Then she sighed. "But isn’t it the same thing, Mother?" she asked, a crease forming between her brows.

"No, it’s not, and you know it. I get to finally decide, yes, but there’s a process. You have to work toward it first, and by completing it, I can decide appropriately. Now tell me—how do you prove yourself?"

Jezreel sighed, her pout softening, eyes slightly saddened. "I have to master the twelve Steps of the Sacred Tread, the twelve Disciplines of Priesten-Hood, the twelve Hands of Wrath, and the Walk of Halo before the Scrolls of Halo; then I can begin personal tutelage under Rebi."

"Under the High Doyens, not just Rebi," Morriba corrected.

Jezreel’s pout deepened, though she still nodded. "Why all the twelves, though, Mother?"

"You say it like it’s all over the place, it’s only three twelves you’re dealing with

"But it’s still a lot of twelves"

"Hmm..." Morriba paused thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But you’ll understand when you’re ready."

Jezreel gave a reluctant nod in surrender. "Of course."

"Why the long face? It’ll happen sooner than you think."

"How long before Mother was ready?"

Morriba chuckled. "Ha! It’s never about time—it’s about mastery." She lifted her chin, pride gleaming. "I was considered a genius, you know."

Jezreel’s eyes sparkled. "Oh... was Mother, now?"

Morriba shot a side glance. "What’s that? I really was a genius."

"I’m sure... really," Jezreel said with a soft blink.

Morriba’s brows knitted. "Do you want us asking around now?"

"Does Mother really want to?"

"What do you mean? You think I wasn’t?"

"I didn’t say that. Raphai just says everyone claims to be a genius," Jezreel replied, shrugging innocently.

Morriba’s gaze swept over her, weighty and dark, like a storm hanging low. Jezreel blinked at it, then forced a small smile. "Hehe... Lunai always says things without thinking. So Raphai just said everyone claims to be a genius. Of course, Mother would have been a genius."

Morriba let out a soft scoff. "I was ready to tutelage under the High Doyens when I was 21 and became a Complete by 29, while others became Completes at what, 36? 40?"

"Woah..." Jezreel clasped her hands in admiration. "But Mother, Aunt Rebi became a Complete at 26."

Morriba’s lips curled. "Oh, so she’s your aunt now?"

Jezreel kept an innocent face.

"Rebi doesn’t count, she’s just Rebi."

Jezreel’s eyes flicked. "Oh... and Teach Nicoah?"

Morriba gave her a flat look. "Alright, I think it’s past your bedtime."

"Mother, it’s still morning."

"Go to bed."

She held her hands together and bowed. "How unruly of me; this child apologizes."

Morriba scoffed. "A child indeed. No more Library access for you."

Jezreel gasped. "Mother, it hasn’t gotten to that yet!"

Both Morriba’s brows lifted. "Oh really? But then, aren’t you done with all the books in there?"

"Only the left wing remains," Jezreel said casually.

Morriba nodded, lips twitching. "Only you would call that ’just’—it’s a wall of a thousand books."

Jezreel shrugged lightly. "If you organize them into categories, it’s really becomes a ’just’".

"Yeah, sure. Still grounded."

"Mother...?"

Morriba’s expression grew serious. "All that aside, the path of a High Priestess is not like that of others." She sighed, then met her daughter’s gaze. "I’m certain you’ll do well."

"So... Mother’s saying I have to wait until I’m 21 before tutelage under Aunt Rebi?"

A vein pulsed at Morriba’s temple, almost like smoke rising. "Still your aunt, huh?"

"Hehe," Jezreel smiled innocently.

Morriba exhaled, then came the laughter slipping out. "I was 21 myself—who knows? You might be 30."

"I’m only three now, Mother," Jezreel said, in blank stares.

Morriba raised her eyes in mock awe "Oh, really? Not 23?" Morriba said, mock awe in her voice, laughing at her own joke.

Jezreel didn’t share the humor, her eyes fixed. It seemed she was going to find time to plot how to sneak into one of Rebi’s ’mission’ luggages. This woman had no intention of letting her off.

Might have been a joke—what she said— but Morriba glanced at her daughter, she wasn’t entirely joking.

"Mother, who’s the Son of Thous?" After hearing them speak about the Son of Thous, she was curious to know.

Morriba stopped laughing, her gaze lingering on her daughter for a moment. "He is the General god-Killer," she said, rising gracefully from her cushion. She started to leave, then turned back, a soft smile touching her lips. "You’ll know of Him when you’re ready."

Jezreel’s face went blank at the sound of that.

"I have to prepare for the purification rites. Also..." Morriba added, lips curling, "...Sacrednesses do not tutelage under the High Doyens beyond the Temple."

Jezreel’s eyes flared, was her world going to be swept off from under her feet?

...

A man, too beloved by the ground to be allowed to leave it by many feet, with a rounded head and a polished beard— scented by the herbs of nature—walked into a room, his bag held tightly with him, and his Mummy lay exactly as he had left it—in the middle of the room.