Every set of eyes snaps toward us, everyone’s face taking on a look of shock, save for Wyn Juun’s. The elderly priest simply greets us with a welcoming smile from where he kneels.

Minyl is there, as she told me she would be late last night with outrage crackling through her voice, her planned prayers a silent protest against a world set on walling people out.

Set on letting children drown.

Her long-tressed love, Ru Sol, sits by her side, ready to recite the verses of protection for those fleeing east. To recite the verses of mourning for those who have drowned.

Min Lo’s gaze flicks toward me before fixing on Trystan, and I can read her storming emotions, can tell by the dark circles anchoring her eyes that she, too, is still on the Zonor River.

There’s a ripple of disturbance in the room as Trystan and I stop on the temple’s periphery, the looks of surprise rapidly turning to those of protest.

Wyn Juun’s age-thinned voice resonates against the temple’s circular walls as he sounds the traditional temple greeting. “Vo’nor’ysh, Vo’khin.” Blessings be upon you, Sacred Child of Vo.

Sounds of outrage swell and the majority of the Noi’khin rise to leave, only Wyn Juun, Minyl, Ru Sol, and three dazed-looking apprentices remaining.

Trystan’s lightning slashes through his lines and my own power reflexively leaps toward him, wanting to encircle him with a force that will drive everything else out. Wanting to throw my arms around him and pull him out of the uncaring waters.

Trystan’s steps are measured as he walks halfway toward the Pillar of Vo, across Vo’s blue water manifestation. He takes a seat facing the pillar as the storm in him swirls, a tempest of agony and sorrow. Then he crosses his legs and places his hands on his knees, palms up.

Minyl meets my gaze, fierce sympathy in her expression. Ru Sol’s long-lashed eyes dim with a troubled look as she takes in Minyl.

Minyl decidedly gets up, softly pads over to Trystan, then takes a seat beside him, touching him on the shoulder before settling into her own prayers. Then Ru Sol rises, graceful as a swan, her long, dark hair swishing behind her as she takes a seat at Trystan’s other side.

I know the apprentices who have stayed. They look to me, seeming stunned, as I remain pressed against the wall, imprisoned in my role as guard. Desiring, with everything in me, to have this faith still mean something to me.

Desiring with everything in me to be the one sitting next to Trystan Gardner.

“I read this last night,” Trystan says to Wyn Juun after the meditation service, holding up the book in his hand.

The Way of Vo.