A Betrayal of Faith ✔

ONE: The Boy

The cold winter wind stung the faces of those sitting in the grassy field. The first snow would begin to fall within the week and soon enough they would no longer be able to take their lessons outside. If it had been up to the small group, they would already be doing their lessons inside, but the Mother had ordered them out, and so they went out.

Isiah sighed and leaned back against the soft grass. His robes billowed around him, allowing the cold air to tickle his skin. It stung and he longed for the warmth of a real fire, not the meagre heat his powers allowed him. He would have to rush his students if he wanted to get back in time for a warm supper with the others.

He'd asked the Mother many times why she made him teach the youngest of their flock how to use their powers. He'd gotten the same answer every time. "All must work in the eyes of the Gods, Isiah. You must do your part like everyone else," she'd tell him. He never did see the point. His powers could barely keep him warm in autumn. It made no sense that he should be the one to teach a group of children how to use theirs.

"Sir?" a small voice called. Isiah looked up from the long grass to smile curiously at the young girl before him. "It's not working. I'm freezing."

"Do it as I told you. Close your eyes for me," he told her. "Now picture something warm. Picture that warmth enveloping you, like a hug. Do you feel anything?" He never had been the best at explaining how to use the powers the Ishini were blessed with. How could he explain something he could barely use?

The young girl was silent for a moment, the six other children around her watching with mixed expressions of boredom and curiosity. "I feel a little warmer, not much though. Are we going inside soon?"

"Soon, I promise. Just a few more minutes." She either needed more practice or she wasn't as strong as the others, who had learned the skill in only a few minutes. It wasn't any fault of hers if it was the latter, some people were stronger than others. Isiah had learned that quickly when he was a child.

A figure waved to them in the distance and Isiah stood, gesturing for the children to follow him. With whoops of mirth, they dashed through the field, seemingly oblivious to the freezing bite of the wind. Isiah smiled at them but said nothing. Watching them run brought him back to a time when life was simpler.

The Mother stood at the edge of the field, watching them with her usual calm expression. They stopped when they reached her and bowed lowly before bounding off again. Isiah would have to teach them a little bit more respect when they saw their leader, but at least they knew to bow.

His grey robes brushed against the dirt and grass as he walked towards her. She seemed unmoved by the wind, the only sign of it touching her was the flap of her robes, fanning out like a ballgown around her ankles.

He bowed when he reached her. "Greetings, Mother," he said, a shortened version of what they were usually supposed to say, but he knew she wouldn't mind.

"Greetings, Isiah," she replied, the hint of a smile on her lips. She glanced over her shoulder at the children as they raced each other towards the Sanctum if Ishin. "How did they go?"

"Most were able to keep themselves warm enough. Ashera struggled," he answered with a frown.

The Mother hummed and clasped her hands behind her back. "I will tell her tutors to keep an eye on her," she said in her deep voice. Her dark red eyes met Isiah's yellow ones. "You are paling."

"You are the one who sends me out in the cold when you know I can barely keep warm," Isiah said, not even bothering to try to hide the irritation in his voice.

The Mother looked through her dark fringe at him and he bit down hard on his lip. "Come. Give me your hand."

He followed her instructions and she grabbed his hand with her own. She ran her soft fingers down his palm and instantly he was warmer. It was as though he were sitting in his quarters by the raging fire. He had always wished, ever since he was a child, to have powers as strong as the Mother. He was sick of the cold.