"The soldiers have already been informed. The location is being prepared," said one of the acolytes.
"Are you sure about this, High Priestess?" one of her students asked, sounding doubtful.
"Yes," Neftraya replied calmly, a faint smile on her lips. "But there is nothing to worry about. All of you must leave the mansion tonight, at nightfall. If everything goes as planned, you know what to do." She did not need to explain further. It was still midday, and there were several hours left to prepare.
Before the time could be wasted, Mernpter, one of the acolytes, announced:
"High Priestess, Lizhireri is here."
Neftraya set down the quill she had been using to write on the papyrus and stood up, turning with a smile.
"Excellent," she said, leaving the small room and walking down the corridor to the more open area — a space resembling a five-meter-high cube with corridors on each side, windows, and decorations.
Lizhireri was there. The young woman was not wearing the usual acolyte robes, but a beautiful dress, an elegant robe, a black-hair wig, and jewelry, including a tiara. Neftraya stared at her for a moment and commented:
"You look very beautiful." She observed her apprentice's body — young, yet robust. "And I see you are better. It seems the connection with Krarvathar did not—"
"Connecting with the Dragon God was the salvation of my soul," the young woman interrupted. The acolytes exchanged glances; interrupting the High Priestess was a grave sign of disrespect.
Neftraya stared at her for a moment.
"I came to say that I am abandoning my duties. I am grateful for everything… but there is something I must do. Serve Krarvathar directly."
Neftraya noticed that her companions were about to speak and raised her hand, preventing any discussion.
"You are not well." Neftraya had noticed the changes in the young woman. "Your lips are trembling, you cannot keep your fingers still — that's why you crossed them over your belly beneath the fabric — and your headache has not gone away."
"This is your fault!" Lizhireri's expression shifted rapidly to fury. "You… you and your evil spell… you…"
"Come, I will help you. I will end your pain, I promise." Neftraya raised her hand slightly, her eyes filled with pity.
"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" Lizhireri shouted, still hiding her hands. "You… you always looked at me like that. You pitied me and always used me, tested me like a guinea pig…" Tears welled up in her eyes. "And when I finally had the chance to see a God, to worship him, serve him, and help him, you made your spells reach into my heart and into him." She raised a hand to her head, tears streaming down her face.
Neftraya stepped closer.
"Calm down, child."
When Neftraya got close enough, Lizhireri revealed a thin dagger she had been hiding and, with a swift movement, stabbed the High Priestess in the abdomen. The acolytes screamed in terror.
Lizhireri's once-delicate face hardened, but a wicked smile formed on her lips. Her green eyes seemed to shine.
"You are going to die."
"Ungrateful girl! The High Priestess saved you!" The acolytes moved to advance, but Neftraya raised her hand again, ordering them to stop. Then blood began to seep through the white fabric — black in color. That frightened the young woman, who stepped back.
"I knew it… you are not human… you are something… evil," Lizhireri said, feeling a sharp pain in her head.
"I am sorry. I should have imagined. Your mind was still too weak to resist. But it was a sacrifice I needed to make." Neftraya pulled the blade from her abdomen. It did not take long for the bleeding to stop. "Your mind is deteriorating."
"I… need to find Krarvathar… the God… he will help me…" Lizhireri's legs weakened, and she tried to lean against the wall. "I… will serve the true God. I saw his memories, I know who he is, and you hid it from him… I…"
Before she could fall, Neftraya caught her and helped her stay on her feet. Lizhireri tried to pull away.
"He won't be able to help you, child. I can."
"Lady… I…" Her expression was one of doubt and confusion. "Please forgive me—" Lizhireri's eyes widened as she stared directly into Neftraya's. Her voice dissolved into a bloody gurgle as the blade sliced through her throat.
Neftraya held her calmly and lowered her to the floor, leaning her against the wall, with a gentle smile.
"Sleep, my little one." Neftraya closed the young woman's eyes. Now, she was the last of her tribe.
The High Priestess stood up and looked at the acolytes. Before she could say anything, a young servant came running but stopped abruptly upon seeing Lizhireri's dead body.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor, and Krarvathar appeared. From a distance, the dragon saw Lizhireri's corpse and Neftraya standing with a dagger in her hand. His face turned very serious.