Chapter 5: The Trial of Luxoriel Day Part 2
The Main Hall of the Sanctum of the Final Radiance was a cathedral of shadows, the air thick with the scent of old incense and the faint, lingering aroma of something more acrid—something that made Avelyne's stomach churn. She tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the rhythmic creaking of the ropes as they held her in place, the rough texture of the wood beneath her fingers.
But her gaze kept drifting back to Mirelle, her body still hung on the cross, her head lolling forward, her hair obscuring her face. Avelyne's heart ached at the sight, a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to echo through her entire body. She had known Mirelle would not last, but seeing it, being here, was different. It was a stark reminder of what was to come if she failed.
Avelyne's gaze shifted to Thalia, who sent her a timid, exhausted smile. It was a small gesture, barely noticeable, but it was enough to make Avelyne's heart clench. Thalia was her closest friend, her confidante, her rock in this storm of faith and fear. If Thalia was smiling, even weakly, it meant she was still fighting. It meant there was still hope.
Avelyne's breath hitched, her heart swelling with a sudden, desperate surge of determination. She would not fail. She would not let Thalia fail. They would endure this trial together, no matter what it took.
Suddenly, a sharp cry cut through the heavy silence, the sound of it echoing off the stone walls like a gunshot. Avelyne and Thalia both jerked, their eyes flying wide as they turned to see Thargea convulsing on her cross, her body wracked with pain. Her face was contorted, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers clawing at the wood as if she could tear herself free.
"Thargea!" Avelyne cried out, her voice raw with panic. "Thargea, hold on! Please, hold on!" She could feel the fear rising in her chest, her heart pounding against the wood as she watched her friend struggle against the binds that held her.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers trembling as she reached out, her voice barely audible.
"Thargea," she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Stay with me. Please, stay with me."
Thalia’s face was a mask of grim determination, her lips moving in silent prayer, her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t look at Avelyne, but her posture was rigid, her body as still as stone. Avelyne knew Thalia was holding on by sheer willpower alone, but she could see the strain in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her knuckles had turned white.
Another day had come in, the fourth since they'd been bound to their crosses, and Thargea's body was still struggling, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Avelyne's heart ached as she watched her friend, her own body growing weaker with each passing moment. She could feel the ropes digging deeper into her wrists, the wood pressing into her back, but she refused to let her gaze waver from Thargea.
The younger nun’s chest was rising and falling in shallow, desperate gasps, her fingers twitching against the cross as if trying to claw her way free. Avelyne’s breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, her lips moving silently in prayer, her voice lost beneath the weight of the hall. The air was thick with the scent of old incense and something sharper—something metallic, like blood and sweat. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the words she had memorized since childhood, but her mind kept drifting back to Mirelle’s still form, to the way Thargea’s body had begun to shake, to the way Thalia’s fingers had clenched into fists at her sides.
When the night came, the shadows in the Main Hall deepened, stretching long and jagged across the stone floor. Avelyne’s voice, soft and barely audible, cut through the silence as she whispered her prayers.
But then—A wet, suffocating *gurgle* cut through the hall like a blade through silk, Thargea’s body convulsing as her throat worked in desperate, silent gasps. The sound was wrong. Impossible. Avelyne’s breath froze in her chest as Thargea’s fingers clawed at the wood, her nails digging into the grain as if trying to tear herself free from the binds. The ropes groaned, protesting the unnatural strain, but Thargea’s body was already beginning to sag, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her own failure had become too much to bear.
Thalia’s head snapped toward the sound, her eyes widening in horror. For the first time since the trial began, her rigid posture faltered, her lips parting in a silent scream.
In that moment, her eyes locked onto Avelyne's, a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for something—anything—to save her from the inevitable. Avelyne's heart shattered, her own breath catching in her throat as she watched the life drain from her friend's eyes. Then, with a final, shuddering breath, Thargea's body went limp, her head lolling to the side, her eyes glazing over as the last light of life faded from them. The hall fell silent once more, the only sound the soft, rhythmic creaking of the ropes as they held the three remaining nuns in place. Avelyne's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her heart pounding against the wood as she stared at Thargea's lifeless body, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them coherent.
She could feel the hot, stinging prick of tears behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't—she couldn't—break down now. Not here, not like this.
Not Thargea. The words echoed in Avelyne's mind, a desperate mantra as she stared at her friend's lifeless body. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of it pressing down on her like a physical force. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over, her heart aching with a pain that was almost unbearable. But she refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not until she had done everything in her power to keep Thalia safe.
"Av—" Thalia's voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and urgent. Avelyne's gaze snapped to her friend, her heart pounding in her chest as she saw the effort it took for Thalia to speak. "Av—elyne," she managed, her voice barely audible. "We—we can't—we can't give up.We're not supposed to," Thalia whispered, her voice trembling but steady, her fingers curling weakly around the wood as if trying to anchor herself to something real. Avelyne's breath hitched, her throat tightening so violently she could barely swallow.
The words we and not supposed to were like shards of ice in her chest, raw and impossible to ignore. Thalia's eyes were wet, her lashes dark against the pale skin of her face, but she didn't look away. She was staring directly at Avelyne, her expression a mix of desperate hope and something far more dangerous—defiance. "You're stronger than this," Thalia said, her voice cracking just slightly. "You always have been. You just have to remember who you are."
Avelyne's vision blurred. She blinked hard, her fingers trembling against the wood as she fought to keep her breath steady.
"We will survive this," Avelyne said, her voice low but firm, her eyes locking onto Thalia’s with an intensity that bordered on desperation. "We will prove to Luxoriel that our faith is not just in words, but in blood and bone. We will endure what they demand of us and come out stronger." Her gaze flicked back to Thargea’s lifeless form, her throat tightening as she swallowed hard. "We are not just nuns. We are warriors."
Thalia’s breath hitched, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the cross harder, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re right," she said, her words trembling but resolute. "We are." Her eyes darted to the shadows at the edge of the hall, where the faintest glow pulsed like a heartbeat, a reminder of what waited beyond the trial.
On the fifth day, Avelyne woke with a start, her body stiff and aching from the unnatural position. Her eyes flew open, and she saw it—Thalia's head, lolling to the side, her eyes closed, her body still. Panic surged through Avelyne, her heart pounding in her chest as she cried out, "Thalia! Thalia, wake up!" Her voice echoed through the empty hall, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. She strained against her bonds, desperation lending her strength, but the ropes held fast, refusing to give even an inch.
Avelyne’s breath came in ragged gasps as she saw it—the faintest pulse of light beneath Thalia’s eyelids, a sickly glow that shouldn’t have been there, not yet. The air in the hall had thickened, charged with something electric, the scent of ozone and iron cutting through the stale incense. Her fingers trembled against the wood as she realized what it meant: Thalia had been touched—the trial had claimed her, but not yet fully. She was still here. Still fighting. Still alive.
Then—Thalia’s fingers twitched.
Avelyne’s breath caught in her throat as Thalia’s eyelids fluttered open, her pupils wide and unnaturally dark, like ink spilled across silver. Her friend’s voice was a rasp, hoarse from the strain of the trial, but it was there—raw, desperate, and utterly human.
"Av—" Thalia’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her chest barely rising against the ropes. "You can hear it, can’t you?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the words cut through the suffocating silence like a blade. "My heartbeat." Thalia’s fingers twitched against the wood, her knuckles white, her nails digging into the grain as if she could anchor herself to something real. "Still here." Avelyne chuckled softly, a sound that was almost lost in the heavy silence of the Main Hall. She glanced at Thalia, her expression softening as she saw the worry etched into her friend's face. Thalia's gaze was fixed on Mirelle and Thargea, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and determination.
"They're not enduring the pain anymore," Thalia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Luxoriel has blessed their souls. They're free now." She turned to Avelyne, her expression serious. "But we're not. We're still here, still fighting. And we have to keep going, Av. For them, for us, for our faith."
Avelyne's heart ached at the sight of her friends, their lifeless bodies still bound to the crosses, but Thalia's words resonated within her, strengthening her resolve.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of her own breathing, trying to block out the eerie silence that seemed to press in around her. The faintest glow pulsed from the shadows, a reminder of the unseen force that demanded their endurance. She could feel the weight of the ropes digging into her skin, the wood pressing against her back, but she refused to let it break her. She was stronger than this. She had to be.
On the sixth night, the air in the hall seemed to thicken, heavy with the scent of old incense and something metallic, like blood and iron. Avelyne's breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her fingers trembling against the wood. She could hear the faint creaking of the ropes, the rhythmic sound a lullaby of sorts, grounding her amidst the chaos of her thoughts. Then—
A wet, suffocating gurgle ripped through the silence, sharp and raw.
Thalia’s body jerked violently, her back arching against the wood as if something unseen was being dragged from her chest. Avelyne’s breath locked in her throat, her fingers clawing at the ropes as she watched Thalia’s throat work in desperate, silent gasps. The sound was wrong—too wet, too violent, like a drowning man’s last breath. Thalia’s eyes flew open, wide and unnaturally dark, her pupils dilated into black voids. Her lips parted, but no sound came out—only that choking, gurgling noise, a wet, rattling rasp that made Avelyne’s stomach clench.
Thalia’s fingers twitched, then spasmed, her nails digging into the wood so hard they drew blood. Her body convulsed again, this time with a violent shudder that sent the ropes taut. Avelyne’s pulse roared in her ears as she realized—Thalia was drowning.
In her panic, she screamed, "Thalia! Thalia, look at me! Stay with me!" Her voice echoed through the hall, raw and desperate. Thalia’s gaze snapped to hers, her eyes wide with terror and something else—something that made Avelyne’s heart clench. It was a plea, a silent cry for help, for salvation. Avelyne’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the wood as she fought against her own bonds, her body straining with the effort. "Thalia, please," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Please, don’t leave me." Thalia’s voice was a whisper now, barely audible above the wet, rattling gasps that tore through her chest. Her fingers clawed at the wood, her knuckles split and bleeding, but she forced her gaze to meet Avelyne’s. "Av—you have to stay strong. For me. For Mirelle. For Thargea." Her breath came in shallow, desperate bursts, each one a battle against the unseen force that seemed to be tearing her apart from the inside. "You’re the only one left. You can’t give up now." Avelyne’s voice was raw, her fingers trembling against the rough wood as she forced herself to meet Thalia’s desperate gaze. The air around them had grown thick, charged with the faintest pulse of something unseen—like a heartbeat beneath the stone. Thalia’s breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest heaving against the ropes as if she were drowning in the silence of the hall.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Avelyne… I’m sorry I won’t be able to listen to your stories anymore." The words hung between them like a dying ember, fragile and aching.
Avelyne’s breath hitched. The confession was raw, unguarded—a confession of surrender. Thalia’s fingers twitched weakly against the wood, her knuckles split and bleeding, but her gaze never wavered from Avelyne’s. "I tried," she said, her voice barely audible over the wet, rattling gasps that tore through her chest. "I really tried." The ropes groaned as Thalia’s body convulsed again, her back arching with a final, violent shudder. Avelyne’s heart shattered. She had always been Thalia’s confidante, her voice of reason, the one who could make the darkness feel a little less suffocating.
Thalia’s fingers twitched one last time against the wood, her nails digging into the grain until they bled. Then, with a final, shuddering gasps, her breath stilled completely. Her eyes—once so sharp, so full of fire—grew glassy and still.
*"Av—"* Thalia’s voice was a whisper now, barely audible over the wet, rattling gasps that tore through her chest, "I’m sorry..." Her voice cracked, her words barely audible above the wet, rattling gasps that tore through her chest.
"I'm sorry, Av—" Thalia's body went limp, her head lolling to the side, her eyes glazing over as the last light of life faded from them. Avelyne's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her heart pounding against the wood as she stared at Thalia's lifeless body, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them coherent.
Then, with a sudden, violent surge of emotion, she let out a wail that echoed through the Main Hall like a physical force, raw and primal. "No! Thalia! No!" She screamed and cried, her voice breaking. Her voice echoed through the hall, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, sharp and urgent. Avelyne's head snapped up, her eyes widening as she saw Mother Seraphine and several older nuns entering the hall, their faces a mix of concern and stern resolve.
The Mother Superior's gaze met hers, and for a moment, Avelyne thought she saw a flicker of shock in the woman's eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same unyielding expression she had always known.
"Ave-," Mother Seraphine began, her voice steady despite the obvious tension in her shoulders. But before she could finish her sentence, Avelyne's vision swam, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The world around her seemed to tilt, the shadows in the hall darkening until they consumed everything. The last thing she heard was the sharp intake of breath from Mother Seraphine, and then, everything went black.