The air was thick with dust and the stench of long-dead flesh. Giada shouldered through, tossing the ghouls aside. These ones had been dead for so long with no nourishment that, with a little determination and a little more magic, she could shove her way past. She kept the lightning circulating around her body just over her shoulders. The spinning current lashed out at anything that got too close. It was enough to dissuade most of the ghouls, who'd rather lurch ahead towards the other, less painful living.

But not all. Bony fingers scratched over her armor, ignoring the sparks bursting over its arm. Giada slashed at the ghoul. Its arm came off, skin fragile as paper, muscle snapping, bone dry and weak. Stupidly, it kept trying to scratch her with its missing arm. She shoved past.

Ghouls weren't meant to be this fragile or this stupid. An army this big should have been enough to take out their whole garrison. But here she was, shoving through them single-handedly, while half the guard assigned to watch Cecile took them out. How old are they? This was more than a few years. A few decades, more like. Centuries?

Teeth snapped inches from her neck. Annoyed, she slashed the ghoul's jaw off its face. A hand grabbed at her from behind. Giada swirled and slashed; her blade stuck in flesh. She stared, horrified. Flesh? What—this one wasn't—

She looked up. Met dead, cloudy eyes. She didn't recognize the man, but he wore a Shrineguard uniform. A modern one. He still had his skin, his flesh. His bones were strong. He turned an emotionless face toward her. Lifted his other arm.

"Shit," Giada snarled. She lifted her leg and planted it on the ghoul's arm, then pulled with all her might and yanked her sword from his arm a second before his fist would have hit her face. The sword came free with a wet squelch, and she staggered back, into the crowd of ghouls. She couldn't stop falling backwards, couldn't find her balance. They turned toward her. Arms reached. Hands clawed. Giada's feet slid as she tried to find her footing in the grass. Damn it! It was impossible, with all these ghouls shoving at her!

The fresh ghoul loomed overhead. His shadow blocked out the sun. He raised both fists.

Giada threw herself to the side. The earth shook as the ghoul slammed his fists down, close enough she could feel her magic shock him. It wasn't enough to dissuade this one. It was a proper ghoul, strong enough to tear her apart. She popped back up to her feet as the fresh ghoul spun and rushed her. There was no time to throw herself out of the way. Giada pointed her sword at his face and pushed all her magic into it, looking down at him. How dare he try to take her down like that.

Lightning lashed from her sword in the blink of an eye, a fist-sized bolt of it that punched a hole through his chest. The ghoul seized, some leftover instinct from when he was alive forcing him to clutch at the wound. Off-balance, he toppled forward. Giada closed the gap in that moment and slammed her pommel down on the back of his neck. Bone cracked. Plop. The ghoul hit the ground.

No time to waste. Giada hurdled his body and plunged back into the ghouls, spinning her finger to recast the spell around her as she ran. So many ghouls! How was she supposed to find Sab?

A blast of fire answered that question for her. Giada snorted at herself and ran towards the flame. "Sab! Is that you?" she called. Of course it is. Ghouls can't use magic, and what other idiot would be this deep in the damned army?

"Giada?" he called back, confused.

"Come to me!" she shouted. Energy pounded through her veins. She'd found Sab! He was still alive! She carved her way through the ghouls between the two of them. Bones smashed from Sab's direction as he fought towards her as well. A ghoul lurched toward her, reaching for her shoulders. Before it could reach, its skull exploded into shards. The ghoul clattered to the ground. Sab appeared from behind it, breathing hard. He hefted his hammer over his shoulder and breathed out. "How...nice to see you here," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. As if this was some casual meeting, and there weren't a dozen ghouls shambling slowly toward them from all directions.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Giada said.

Sab nodded, too breathless to reply. He started to jog toward the Shrine, then faltered. Wobbled on his feet, then, suddenly, sunk to his knees. Startled, Giada caught him before he fell. "What happened? Did you get injured?"

No response. She knelt and held her hand in front of his mouth. He was breathing.

Claws scraped at her. Her head snapped to the side. Giada glared up, the sensation of fingers still hot on her cheek. Which ghoul had dared slap her? She was busy.

One of the ghouls was close. Too close. Leaping upwards, she struck at the bottom of its neck with all her strength. The head came clean off, dry bones not strong enough to hold it together.

In the second it took her to do that, ghouls had already taken ahold of Sab and were slowly pulling him deeper into their masses. Giada held out her hand, drawing magic from the soulstone on her sword's crossguard. Lightning arced from her fingertips and blasted the ground all around Sab. The ghouls in the way twisted and twitched, curling up like pill bugs. She snatched Sab away from them and ran, half-carrying, half-dragging him.

At once, all the ghouls stopped moving. As one, they turned toward the Shrine, empty eye sockets gaping, a million pitch holes. Giada stared, startled. What was going on? What were they doing? It doesn't matter. Get out of here!

She hefted Sab onto her shoulders and ran. Her shoulders ached within seconds. Her knees complained at the added weight. Through the ghouls, twisting around them. As long as the ghouls were distracted, they had a chance. "Sab, hang in there," she muttered. Could he hear her? She didn't know. She had to say something, though. Something, or she'd go insane.

The Shrine! She'd never been so happy to step inside the dusty old hall. She burst out of the ghouls and gasped a thankful breath. Stopped. Froze, eyes wide.

He was right in front of her.

Giada drew on her lightning, felt it arcing through her, racing through her veins, silver confidence, the surety that she could not be wrong. She raised her sword.

Lightning burned through the back of his cloak, the boom earth-shattering. She shouted, but couldn't even hear her own voice. The man turned toward her. Inhuman, the silver mask shone.

Fire burst from Cecile's hands. Giada's eyes widened. She hadn't held back—

She threw herself to the side with seconds to spare. Fire nipped at her ankles, and her back felt scorched. Giada highstepped away from the blast, half-trying to step out the fire she was sure had caught on her pant hems, half-startled out of her wits. She turned around. The man was a bonfire. Cecile wasn't holding back. It smelled like roasting pork, then burned hair, then burning meat. Giada made a face and covered her nose. She hadn't ever wanted to know what burning human smelled like.

The man crumpled to the floor. Cecile lowered her hands, panting. The fire died slowly, flickering in the floor and licking over the man's body. The man had been standing on the wooden stage, but the wooden stage had turned to charcoal and crumbled under the force of Cecile's blast. What was left of him was kneeling on the stone floor of the Shrine, white-hot charcoal flickering around him.

"Cecile, are you alright?" Giada asked, setting Sab on the floor.

She nodded, but couldn't speak for catching her breath. One hand caught on the neckline of her dress and pulled it shut. Giada noticed the low neckline at last and quickly undid the buttons on her jacket, settling it around Cecile's shoulders. A thankful nod was Cecile's reply.

All around them, Shrineguards raced past, filling what had been a gap in their line to push back the ghouls. No one had wanted to get too close to Cecile and the man's battle, but now that he was gone, they could finish exterminating the ghouls. Elements raged behind Giada, ghouls clattering or burning or sizzling as they were destroyed.

"...he's dead," Cecile managed at last. It sounded triumphant and exhausted all at once. She walked towards his body, kicking the embers of the stage as she went. The body kneeled, even in death. Cecile stared at it for a second. Her face twisted. All at once, she shouted and stomped on the body. It fell to ash. "Stay dead!"

Two shapes fell from the cinders: the silver mask, clattering away, and a necklace. It was almost like an ordinary soulstone necklace, the kind everyone wore, except that the chain, the stone, even the metal binding stone were all pitch black.

Cecile knelt and picked up the necklace. She rubbed the chain between her fingers. Soot came off on her fingers, but the metal beneath remained blackened.

Giada furrowed her brow at it. "So he was a Lucist, but he still attacked the Shrine?" she said, puzzled. What kind of worshipper would attack their own place of worship?

"I don't know," Cecile said. She examined the chain, tilting it this way and that, then picked up the pendant to peer closer at the stone. "It seems a little..." She ran her finger over the stone, and fell completely still.

"...Cecile?" Giada asked, waving her hand in front of her face.

Cecile blinked and snapped to. She stared at Giada, uncomprehending. An emotion flashed over her face, something dark and wrong, and then it was gone. "No, I... I forgot where I was going with that," she finished.

Giada sighed. Cecile shifted, the coat falling back, and Giada caught a glimpse of blackened veins. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed. "Is that magic poisoning?"

Shyly, Cecile clutched the coat closed. "No, it's... I'm fine," she said, waving her hand.

"No, you're not. Let's go find the medics. C'mon, I've got to get Sab over there, too," Giada said, bending to heft him back up. The sack of potatoes he was. Completely useless. She took Cecile by the hand and tugged her onwards. "Let's go."

Cecile let herself be dragged towards the far end of the hall, away from the wall. Civilians were still huddled there, pressed as far as they could into the back of the wall. Giada suddenly remembered: the mob outside. With a sigh, Giada set Sab down among them. Dammit. "If we wait a bit, the ghouls should clear out, and then we can—"

The door creaked open. Giada spun. Cecile was already halfway through the door.

"Aren't you tired? You don't need to face them now," she said, following Cecile out.

"I am," Cecile said. "But there's people in here that are injured. We can't afford to wait."

The anteroom was swirling with people. They turned at the sight of Cecile, then moved aside, clearing a path for her. Cecile hesitated, taken aback by the deference, but only for a moment. Giada could see the determination light through her; she stood taller, squared her shoulders, and stared straight ahead. Hands reached out, clutching at Cecile, some reassuring, some supplicant. Giada gently pushed them aside. A man ran up, shouting something about his wife, and she put herself between him and Cecile. She had to protect their High Priest. As far as she could see, she was the only Shrineguard around, so the duty fell to her.

Cecile paused at the doors outside. The heros from the paintings gazed down on her, painted flames raging all around. She turned back and gave the people huddled in the antechamber a smile. "Please remain calm, everyone. The situation is under control."

Then she pushed the door open and stepped into the sunlight.

Outside, Shrineguards had formed a line around the door. The mob was still raging, some shouting, others shaking makeshift weapons. There was blood on the ground, but no active fighting. The mob had retreated from the guards, and the guards seemed reluctant to pursue them. Giada quickly checked on her fellow students, eyes flicking through the crowd for familiar faces, Maria, Leana, the others. No one looked badly injured. No one had died. She breathed out. It was no surprise that Shrineguards would win against a bunch of poorly armed villagers, but it was still reassuring to see everyone alive and well.

Cecile gestured upward. Fire spouted from her hands, arcing up into the sky and back down. The mob flinched back, but the flames died before they hit the ground. She strode forward, pushed two Shrineguards apart, and stood before the guards and the mob alike. The mob hesitated, uncertain what to make of her. Giada followed close behind her, hand on her sword, ready to draw.

"I am your new High Priest," Cecile introduced herself.

"Going to eat us out of house and home, too?" someone shouted, and then another, and another, all shouting different things at once until the mob was a mass of noise. Behind her, the Shrineguards raised their weapons expectantly.

Cecile lifted a hand into the air. Another burst of fire burned into the sky. The mob flinched. In the second of silence that bought her, Cecile spoke. "I took on this role to help an old friend, but I will use it to help everyone I can. I hear you. I will do everything in my power to lower your tithes and lessen the strain on your families. The Shrine will open its kitchens to those who are truly hurting. You are all my citizens, and I do not want to see you come to harm."

Giada smiled. So this was why they'd chosen Cecile as High Priestess. Raff wouldn't have known what to do, but Cecile seemed to know instinctively what to say. Bruised and battered though she was, Giada's jacket thrown over a torn dress, she commanded respect, and the mob seemed afraid to do anything but offer it. They were already quieting, the people talking amongst themselves.

"What was all that noise?" someone asked.

"Ghouls," Cecile said simply. "But we have taken care of them for you."

Another wave of murmurs spread through the crowd. A man stepped forward, hat held in his hands. He loomed over Cecile, a mass of muscle dressed down in simple clothes that reeked of farm work, but she stared him down, refusing to be cowed. "We've issues with more than just your tithes," he said. "But if you'll listen, we'll speak."

"Tonight," Cecile said. "We have injured in the Shrine who need to be treated. But I will meet with you tonight."

Whispers started up again. This time, the man silenced them with a raised hand. "I understand. My mama is in there, and I'm sure," he glared over the crowd, "plenty of your mamas, too. Tonight at sundown, we will meet here."

Cecile extended her hand. The man took it, and they shook hands. He turned to the mob. "Alright, alright, nothing to see here," he shouted, waving them away. Slowly, the mob dispersed.

As soon as they were gone, Cecile breathed out and deflated. "I thought they were going to kill me," she muttered to Giada.

"I wouldn't have known," Giada replied, eyebrows raised. "You did an impressive job of faking it."

"Thanks," Cecile breathed. Then she gathered herself again. "Open the doors!"

The Shrineguards nearest the doors hopped to, all but tripping over themselves in their haste to open the doors. As soon as they swung open, people poured out. Like wine spilling from a bottle, they fled all at once, then soaked away into the streets and houses. Cecile watched them go, a silent, tired smile on her face. Unsure what to do, Giada took up post behind her shoulder, out of the general feeling that someone should.

"These are my people," Cecile whispered to herself, watching them vanish into the night. She held out her hands as though she could scoop them up and tuck them away.

Which reminded Giada. "What happened to that necklace?" she asked.

"Oh, that?" Cecile said. She reached into the inner pocket of Giada's jacket and tugged the black chain into view. "I'm holding onto it for now. A little souvenir for all the trouble he caused me."

Giada nodded. "Make sure you send his soul back properly, High Priestess." It was the High Priestess' job, after all, to send all the souls safely to the afterlife. Some priests could do it as well, but the High Priestesses and Priests were always considered to be the best. The ones most guaranteed to give your soul a good recommendation to the gods, so that you received a good life the next time around.

Cecile smiled at her. "As soon as I learn how," she promised.

For a moment, she paused and stretched, stared out at the day; then she slapped her own cheeks and shook her head. With a little leap, she bustled back into the Shrine, busy as ever. "Healers! Help me move—" the door swung shut, cutting off her voice.

With a yawn, Giada turned her eyes to the sky. So much had happened that it seemed it ought to be night, but it was still early in the day; before noon, at her guess. And they'd already ascended a new High Priestess and quashed a threat to her life from some madmen. She breathed out. Today had already been a crazy day, and it wasn't even half over. Hopefully the excitement was done for now.