Sinshei kept her eyes locked on his face, perfectly square and with such hard features, he appeared carved from marble. His hair, looking like spun gold, trailed down to his waist. His irises sparkled like sapphires. His smile belonged on a painting.

“Gordian was killed two weeks ago by members of a newly formed rebellion,” she said. “Likely the same group responsible for today’s ambush. The remainder of his family was sent back to Gadir by Magus’s decree.”

Galvanis turned to the paragons at his escort.

“Leave us,” he commanded. “All of you.”

Soldiers, sailors, and paragons, they all hurried down the dock without any real apparent destination beyond escaping the presence of the two children of the God-Incarnate. From the corner of her eye, Sinshei caught Soma staring, waiting for a signal. Openly refusing an order was too risky, and there wasn’t much the blue-armored paragon could accomplish. She nodded at him ever so slightly, and upon seeing it, he casually saluted her with two fingers and marched off with the rest of the paragons.

Moments later, the two stood alone atop the creaking wood. Galvanis stared at her with his arms crossed over his chest. He was judging her, and making no attempts to hide it. Her skin crawled at the feeling. It had always been this way, even as a child. She was not a person to him. She was a set of expectations to be met. Those expectations were ever his to decide, and ever hers to fail.

“Things are not so dire,” she said, unable to bear the silence.

“Aren’t they?”

Galvanis grabbed her by her long hair. A single, vicious yank tumbled her toward him. He knelt, lowering himself so that when she landed on her hands and knees, he was there, his face against her face, whispering to her. His words, somehow, were spoken calmly, almost lovingly. It made it so much worse.

“Look upon your city,” he said. “Look upon this beating heart of the island. Can you see it like I can, little sister? Perhaps you don’t. Perhaps the blood of our father is too thin within you, and you do not feel the pulse of the divine. I do. I see the faith wafting off the populace like mist off a lake. I see it crimson against a pale sky. That faith is a pittance compared to the smoke your unchecked foes unleash with their fires. It is an insult. A tragedy. The hearts and minds of these people were meant to be carefully fostered by the Three Pillars, yet what do I witness upon my arrival?”

He tugged harder so that the pain forced her to tilt heavenward.

“Two dead Pillars, and a third making excuses before the burning rubble meant to be her grand accomplishment.”