Cassandra practically danced out of the Chamber of Confluence, the residual energy of the Rite of Passage clinging to her like a shimmering aura. The air thrummed with the echoes of vibrant colors and harmonious voices, a symphony of sensations that left her feeling both exhilarated and slightly disoriented.

  Lyra stood across the hall, leaning against a cool, moss-covered wall, her expression a mixture of amusement and anticipation. Beside her a wisp of a girl with hair like spun moonlight, bounced on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with impatience. On the other side stood her complete opposite in every way. Her dark hair sleek and her posture ramrod straight, stood with arms crossed, a wry smirk playing on her lips.

  "Well?" the blond burst out, unable to contain herself a moment longer. "Don't leave us in suspense!"

  "Hold your horses, Alys," Lyra said with a chuckle, pushing off the wall. "Let the girl breathe." She turned to Cassandra, her eyes twinkling. "Sorry about them. Alys is a bit... enthusiastic. While Rosamund on the other hand, well, you’ll get to know Rosamund."

  Cassandra grinned, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "It's fine," she said, her voice breathless. "I'm still buzzing from the whole experience. It was like... the universe exploded with color and whispered all its secrets in my ear." She giggled, swaying slightly. "I think I might be a little high or something."

  "That's the Rite for you," Lyra said, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "It tends to have that effect."

  "So?" Alys pressed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Which path did you choose?"

  Cassandra threw her arms wide, a gesture of pure triumph. "I'm a Thief!" she declared, her voice echoing through the hall. "A re-distributor of wealth, a champion of justice, a dancer in the moonlight!"

  Alys's jaw dropped, while Rosamund's smirk widened, a hint of admiration in her eyes. "Well, well," she murmured. "Looks like we've got ourselves a rebel."

  Lyra grinned, bumping Cassandra's shoulder playfully. "Welcome to the thieving crew, Cass! We're going to have so much fun causing chaos in the name of justice."

  Cassandra giggled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "I can't wait!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, mirroring Alys's earlier excitement. "We'll be like Robin Hood and his Merry Men, except with more magic and less tights."

  "And probably more danger," Rosamund added, her voice dry but with a hint of amusement.

  "Oh, definitely more danger," Lyra agreed, her eyes twinkling. "But that's what makes it so much fun."

  "But what about you two?" Cassandra asked, turning towards Alys and Rosamund, her curiosity piqued. "What paths have you chosen?"

  Alys's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I walk the path of the courtesan, of course!" she declared, her voice a playful lilt. "I adore unraveling secrets and exposing hidden truths using my charms to gather secrets and influence those in power. It's a delicate dance of persuasion and seduction, but someone has to do it." She winked, a playful glint in her eyes. "It's a thrilling game." She twirled, her movements fluid and graceful, mimicking those of a seductress.

  Rosamund's gaze locked onto Cassandra's. "Assassin," she stated, her voice sharp and direct. "I eliminate threats." She drew a finger across her throat in a swift gesture.

  Cassandra’s eyes widened at that but Lyra came to the rescue. "Come," Lyra said softly. "It's almost time for dinner. Ready for the grand culinary adventure that is temple food?" she asked, extending a hand towards Cassandra. "Don't worry, it's not as bland as you'd think."

  "Perfect timing," Cassandra said, her mouth watering. "I'm starving."

  As they approached the grand dining hall, the aroma of roasted vegetables, freshly baked bread, and fragrant spices wafted towards them, making Cassandra's stomach rumble with anticipation. The hall itself was a magnificent sight, with soaring ceilings adorned with intricate carvings, long wooden tables laden with platters of food. Diffused sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The architecture combined gothic and nature in an impossible yet perfectly balanced way. Acolytes of all ages and backgrounds mingled amongst the tables, their laughter and conversation creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

  Lyra led the way, her steps confident and familiar, towards a table tucked away in a cozy alcove. Alys practically skipped alongside Cassandra, her eyes wide with excitement. Rosamund followed, her expression unreadable, but a hint of amusement danced in her eyes.

  They settled onto the worn wooden benches, the aroma of the feast making Cassandra's mouth water. Platters of roasted vegetables, seasoned with fragrant herbs, were piled high alongside baskets of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Bowls of steaming stew, fragrant with spices and filled with chunks of tender meat and root vegetables, were passed around, along with jugs of chilled fruit juice and pitchers of steaming herbal tea.

  "Oh, I'm so excited you're here!" Alys chirped, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she piled her plate high with roasted vegetables. "We haven't had a fresh face around here in ages. Lyra hasn't told us much. Where are you from? What's your favorite color? Can you juggle? Do you—"

  "Whoa, Alys," Lyra interjected, amusement lacing her tone, "breathe." She laughed at Alys’s infectious enthusiasm.

  Alys blushed, but her excitement was undimmed. "Sorry," she said, still grinning. "It's just... exciting! A new sister to share our adventures with!"

  "Adventures?” Rosamund challenged as she arranged a selection of vegetables on her plate, raising an eyebrow. “Don't you mean, distractions?" she murmured, her gaze flickering towards Cassandra with a hint of challenge.

  Lyra quickly intervened. "Come now, sisters," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Let's not scare Cass away before she even has a chance to try the food."

  Cassandra, her stomach already rumbling, reached for a piece of bread, tearing it apart and savoring the warm, yeasty scent. She took a bite, the flavors exploding on her tongue – a perfect blend of sweet and savory, earthy and bright.

  "This is amazing," she mumbled between bites, her eyes widening in surprise.

  Alys giggled. "Just wait until you try the stew," she said, her mouth full. "It's Mary's specialty. She makes it with all sorts of secret ingredients from the garden. I swear, half of them probably have magical properties."

  Cassandra eagerly dipped her spoon into the stew, the rich aroma filling her senses. The first taste was a revelation – a symphony of flavors that danced on her tongue, each bite a delightful surprise.

  As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, weaving a tapestry of laughter, shared stories, and playful banter. Alys, her cheeks flushed with excitement, regaled Cassandra with tales of her latest pranks – a mischievous glint in her eyes as she described how she'd replaced the Head Enchanter's prized ink.

  Alys, unable to contain her mischievous grin, leaned forward and recounted her latest escapade. "So, picture this," she began, her eyes twinkling. "Old Head Enchanter Hemlock, hunched over his desk, meticulously drafting some grand proclamation about the proper alignment of celestial bodies for optimal spellcasting."

  Cassandra giggled, picturing a stern-faced enchanter, his brow perpetually furrowed in concentration.

  "He's got his favorite quill," Alys continued, "the one with the silver nib and the ruby embedded in the end - you know, the one he uses for all official pronouncements?"

  Rosamund snorted. "The one he polishes every morning with that ridiculous enchanted cloth?"

  Alys nodded, her grin widening. "Exactly! So, I managed to swap out his precious ink with a little concoction of my own." She winked. "A blend of chameleon's blood, moonflower petals, and a pinch of pixie dust for good measure."

  "And?" Cassandra asked, leaning forward, captivated.

  "Well, let's just say his proclamation ended up looking less like a scholarly treatise and more like a rainbow exploded on parchment," Alys said, her voice filled with glee. "Every word a different color, shifting and shimmering with every stroke. Apparently, he stormed out of his chambers sputtering about impudent apprentices and the indignity of having his pronouncements turned into a 'carnival of color.'"

  Alys dissolved into laughter, her shoulders shaking. Rosamund, despite her best efforts to maintain a stoic facade, couldn't help but crack a smile.

  "You're incorrigible," Lyra said, shaking her head with amusement.

  "Oh, I know," Alys said, unrepentant. "But it was worth it. The look on his face was priceless."

  Rosamund, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "And what of the consequences?" she asked. "Surely, such a blatant disregard for authority didn't go unpunished?"

  Alys shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, they'll figure out it was me eventually. But by then, I'll have come up with something even more spectacular." She winked. "Just wait till you see what I have planned for the upcoming Solstice celebrations."

  Cassandra, caught up in the infectious energy, couldn't help but grin. These were her new sisters, she realized, a band of misfits and rebels, each with their own unique talents and quirks.

  "Rosamund," Lyra said, her voice laced with amusement, “finish telling us about that sparring match you mentioned. The one where you disarmed that giant of a warrior? But start over for Cass to catch up."

  Rosamund, a hint of pride flickering in her eyes, set down her spoon and straightened her posture as she explained to Cassandra. "It was during advanced combat training," she began, her voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. "We were practicing disarming techniques, and I was paired with Gorion, a brute of a man twice my size."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  She gestured with her hands, tracing graceful arcs in the air as she recounted the scene. "He came at me with a broadsword, swinging it like a battering ram. I sidestepped, ducked under his next swing, and with a swift twist of my wrist, sent his sword flying through the air."

  Cassandra's eyes widened in admiration. "Wow," she breathed.

  "It was quite satisfying," Rosamund admitted, a rare smile gracing her lips. "He landed flat on his back, his face a picture of bewildered indignation."

  Alys let out a hoot of laughter. "I can only imagine!"

  Lyra clapped Rosamund on the shoulder, “And that’s why they say she is the best fighter in a generation.”

  Cassandra was honestly surprised to see a subtle blush of embarrassment or pride color the stoic Rosamund's cheeks hinting at hidden depths.

  The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly between tales of daring pranks, impressive feats of skill, and shared memories of their time within the Order. Cassandra, caught up in the warmth and camaraderie, felt a sense of belonging that calmed her “new girl” anxiety and warmed her homesick heart.

  The whole time Lyra seemed to keep a subtle eye on Cassandra, ensuring that the teasing didn't go too far. She interjected with a gentle reminder when Alys's laughter grew a bit too loud, or a subtle glance when Rosamund's competitive spirit threatened to overshadow the lighthearted atmosphere.

  Cassandra, her stomach pleasantly full and her heart warmed by the camaraderie, savored the moment. , she thought, trepidation and excitement swirling within her. These were her new sisters. She knew that her path within the Order would not be easy, but as she met Lyra's warm gaze, she felt a glimmer of reassurance. She was not alone.

  Alys leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, Cass," she began, "tell us about yourself."

  Cassandra hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I'm from a small village," she said evasively. "I worked at the Silver Griffin Tavern for a time."

  Alys's eyes widened. "A tavern? Oh, the stories you must have!"

  Cassandra smiled, remembering the colorful characters she had encountered. she added mentally.

  "And what led you to the Order?" Rosamund asked.

  Cassandra's heart quickened. The memory of her mother's murder, the whispered prophecy, the pull of a destiny she barely understood—it all swirled within her and instead she just shrugged and said, "A sense of purpose to understand my place in the world."

  Lyra nodded, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "We were all drawn here for different reasons, Cass," she said, "but we are united by a shared devotion to Terra and balance in the realms."

  Alys, her enthusiasm undimmed, leaned in closer whispering softly so as to not be overheard, "And what of the prophecy Lyra told us about? Do you believe it?"

  Cassandra hesitated, the weight of the Oracle's words pressing down on her. "I... I don't know," she confessed, her voice trembling. "It seems impossible."

  Rosamund's gaze hardened, and her smile held a hint of mystery. "The Oracle's prophecies are rarely straightforward," she murmured, her gaze flickering towards Cassandra. "But one thing's for sure: life here is never predictable."

  The grand dining hall slowly emptied as the acolytes dispersed for the night, the once lively space now filled with a gentle hum of lingering conversations and the clatter of dishes being cleared.

  "Ready to see your room?" Lyra asked.

  Cassandra, her stomach pleasantly full and her heart still buzzing with the aftereffects of the Rite of Choosing and a heady sense of camaraderie, nodded eagerly. "Definitely," she replied, pushing back her bench and rising to her feet.

  Lyra led her out of the hall and into a labyrinth of corridors, the rhythmic drip of water echoing through the stone passageways, growing louder as they descended deeper into the earth. The scent of damp earth and incense grew stronger, intermingling with the subtle fragrance of night-blooming jasmine that wafted from unseen gardens.

  "Who's that?" Cassandra asked, her attention drawn to a figure darting down a side corridor. He was a whirlwind of emerald green robes and unruly brown hair, a mischievous grin plastered across his face as he juggled what looked suspiciously like glowing, iridescent bubbles. One drifted closer, and Cassandra had to stifle a gasp as it burst with a soft pop, scattering shimmering dust that sparkled in the torchlight.

  Lyra followed her gaze, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Ah, that's Peregrine, the Order's resident mischief-maker," she explained, her voice laced with amusement. "Legend has it he once replaced the entire temple guard's swords with rubber chickens." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Don't let his playful demeanor fool you. He's a master of chaos."

  Cassandra watched as Peregrine disappeared around a corner, a trail of shimmering dust marking his path. "He seems harmless enough," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

  "Harmless?" Lyra echoed, raising an eyebrow. "He once convinced the Head Enchanter that the library was haunted by a book-eating goblin. It took them weeks to realize it was Peregrine himself, disguised in a furry costume, sneaking in at night to “devour” their most prized scrolls."

  Cassandra burst out laughing, her earlier solemnity completely forgotten. "This place is incredible," she said, shaking her head in wonder. "I can't believe I ever thought it would be boring."

  Lyra grinned. "Boring? Never. Unpredictable, chaotic, and occasionally life-threatening? Absolutely." She winked. "But that's what makes it so much fun."

  As they walked, the corridors of the temple unfolded before them like a living tapestry. Acolytes, clad in their earthy-toned robes, bustled through the passageways, their faces reflecting the diversity of the Order. A pair of young men engaged in a heated debate, their voices hushed but intense, their fingers tracing diagrams in the air as they argued over the finer points of magic. A group of women, their braids adorned with beads and feathers, huddled together, their laughter echoing softly as they shared stories and whispered secrets. Further down the corridor, a group of children, their faces alight with mischief, chased each other around a fountain, their laughter echoing through the halls like a melody.

  Cassandra's gaze lingered on a young woman with hair like spun gold, seated on a stone bench tucked into an alcove. Her fingers danced across the strings of a lyre, her voice weaving a haunting melody that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the temple. The air hummed with a vibrant energy, a symphony of voices, laughter, and music. This was a place where everyone seemed to have found their purpose, a place where differences were celebrated and individuality embraced.

  "Turn left here," Lyra instructed, gesturing towards a passageway that led deeper into the temple's labyrinthine depths. "This will take us to the Shadow Legionnaires' training grounds. This is where you will need to come in the morning."

  They continued their tour, passing by training halls where acolytes sparred with wooden swords and practiced their magical abilities. The air crackled with energy, and Cassandra felt a thrill of excitement course through her veins.

  Lyra paused, gesturing towards a group of imposing figures clad in gleaming armor. "And those are the Shadow Legionnaires," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of awe. "They're the protectors of the Order, the ones who stand on the front lines against those who would threaten Terra's balance."

  Cassandra's eyes widened as she took in their powerful physiques and the aura of disciplined strength that emanated from them. They moved with a grace that belied their imposing stature, their every step radiating both power and purpose. One, a tall woman with ebony skin and eyes that burned like molten gold, caught her gaze and offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. Cassandra felt a shiver run down her spine, a mixture of awe and intimidation.

  "That's Maeve," Lyra whispered, noticing her reaction. "She's the Captain of the Legionnaires. Don't let her stern demeanor intimidate you. She's fiercely loyal to the Order and a true force to be reckoned with on the battlefield."

  Cassandra watched as Maeve led her cohort down the corridor, their footsteps echoing with a rhythmic precision that spoke of countless hours of training and unwavering discipline. She couldn't help but admire their strength and dedication.

  "They train relentlessly," Lyra continued, her voice filled with respect. "Physical combat, strategy, weapons handling, magical defense... they're masters of it all." She paused, her gaze following Maeve and her cohort as they disappeared down a side corridor. "They're also the ones who venture out into the world, facing dangers we can only imagine, to protect the innocent and uphold Terra's will."

  Cassandra's fingers traced the intricate carvings on the wall, her mind conjuring images of brave warriors battling monstrous creatures and rescuing villagers from perilous situations. A surge of longing coursed through her, a yearning to possess such strength and courage.

  "Perhaps one day," Lyra said, as if reading her thoughts, "you'll join their ranks," she added with a playful grin.

  "Maybe," Cassandra replied, her eyes still lingering on the corridor where the Shadow Legionnaires had disappeared. "But for now, I think I'll stick to the shadows."

  Lyra chuckled. "A wise choice, for now. But don't underestimate yourself, Cass. You have a strength within you, a fire that burns bright. You might surprise yourself with what you're capable of."

  They continued down the corridor, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic echo of their footsteps and the distant murmur of flowing water. As they turned a corner, Lyra gestured towards an unassuming wooden door, its surface etched with the delicate image of a blooming moonflower.

  "Here we are," she announced. "Your new sanctuary."

  Cassandra's heart quickened with anticipation. She reached for the handle, a wave of nervous excitement washing over her. With a gentle push, the door swung open, revealing a cozy chamber bathed in soft moonlight that streamed through a large arched window.

  The room was simple yet inviting, with walls of polished stone and a high, vaulted ceiling. But it was the view that truly captivated Cassandra. The window framed a breathtaking vista of the Temple gardens, bathed in the silvery glow of the moon. Cascading waterfalls tumbled over moss-covered rocks, their gentle music filling the air. Fragrant flowers bloomed in vibrant hues, their petals shimmering with dewdrops. Winding paths snaked through the lush greenery, inviting exploration and discovery.

  "It's..." Cassandra struggled to find the words. "It's beautiful."

  Lyra smiled. "It is, isn't it?”

  Cassandra turned back to Lyra disbelief in her eyes. “All this is for just me?”

  “Yes, of course.” Lyra smiled confusedly as she glanced around the small room.

  “It’s so much space.” Cassandra had gotten so used to the small hayloft that she shared that having her own space was novel.

  Lyra nodded, not sure what to say in response before moving on. “This is where you'll rest, recharge, and prepare for the challenges ahead. Make it your own, Cass. This is your space to grow, to learn, and to become the person you were meant to be."

  Cassandra stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over the tranquil scene. A sense of peace settled over her, a feeling of belonging she hadn't expected to find within the walls of this ancient Temple.

  "Thank you, Lyra," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

  Lyra squeezed her shoulder gently. "Rest well, Cass. Tomorrow, your training begins."

  Cassandra's fingers lingered on the smooth, cool surface of the moonflower etched into her door as she closed it behind Lyra. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail. The walls, crafted from smooth, polished stone. The bed, draped in soft linens and piled high with fluffy pillows, beckoned invitingly. A small writing desk, nestled beneath the window, offered a space for contemplation and study. A comfortable armchair, positioned beside a crackling fireplace, promised warmth and relaxation.

  A sense of wonder washed over her as she crossed the room, her feet sinking into the plush rug that covered the stone floor. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the writing desk, tracing the intricate carvings that adorned its edges. A set of quills and a stack of parchment rested on its surface, inviting her to explore her creative impulses. She peaked behind a privacy screen next to the desk to see a simple bath.

  Her attention was drawn to a dark wooden wardrobe tucked into a corner. Curiosity piqued, she opened it, revealing a collection of neatly folded clothes – simple, comfortable tunics and trousers in earthy tones, along with undergarments and two pairs of sturdy leather shoes. A smile touched her lips as she recognized her own meager traveling pack tucked away on a shelf. Someone had thoughtfully brought it to her room, a small gesture that spoke volumes about the welcoming spirit of the Order.

  With a sense of contentment, she changed into a soft linen nightgown and settled onto the bed, sinking into the cloud of pillows. The moonlight bathed her in its gentle glow, casting dancing shadows across the room. The distant murmur of flowing water and the soft crackle of the fireplace created a soothing symphony that lulled her towards sleep.

  As her eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts drifted back to the events of the day. The Oracle's prophecy, the Rite of the Path, the choice she had made... it all felt surreal, like a dream she might awaken from at any moment. But the oak leaf pendant, cool against her skin, served as a tangible reminder of the path she had chosen, the destiny she had embraced. And as she thought of Lyra, Alys, and Rosamund, a wave of gratitude washed over her. But her last thought was of Thomas and wondering if he was well.