This is the beginning to a somewhat long story which takes place long before the events in the story Our Hate is All We Have , though it covers some of the same people and can survive as a stand alone story. This is by all means a rough cut still. Feel free to make suggestions for improvement.

Prologue

The night was silent, save the soft patter of feet against the temple floor. Through the gaps in the sculpted, stone columns, rays of moonlight shined through, reflecting with brilliance off the marble floors of the Temple of the Two Goddesses.

Joel Adelwijn dampened and extinguished the torch he had wielded upon setting foot inside the temple. Between the pale moonlight and the ever-glowing candles along the temple corridors, there was really no need for any other source of light. The temple priests and up keepers kept a constant vigilance, even into the deepest hours of the night. They assured that no candle wick ran low without being replaced, no incense burned to nothingness, no bouquet of flowers ever wilted, and so on. Joel was certain that if he dragged his finger across any given wall, he would find no dust, no dirt, no nothing. The temple was well kept by those who overlooked it. Needless to say, enough energy- both magical and physical- was put into this temple already, and a torch wasn't necessary.

Joel pulled his cloak tighter to his juvenile body. It wasn’t that he was cold; the summer night was feverishly warm and humid. It was just a nervous habit of his. The temple was peaceful and quiet, but Joel never quite felt at ease here. It was as if he were being scrutinized, constantly watched and judged. He raised his shockingly pale, crystal eyes to the two statues set apart, one at each end of the worshiping room. Perhaps he was being watched…

Again the said fabric fell down around his shoulders. His clothes were ridiculously big on him, not to mention ridiculously expensive. His father had insisted that he would grow into them quickly, but not soon enough for Joel. He felt as if he were swimming in a sea of silken linen. Joel began to curse as he once again shifted the clothing into a more flattering position, but quickly remembered where he was and shut his mouth before the offensive words could come forth from his lips.

He was a bit gangly for a boy of eleven, though his father insisted that he, too, went through an awkward stage when he didn’t quite seem to fit into his height. Joel looked little like his father, though both shared the same raven hair; Joel had grown his out considerably more than his father. His skin was a few shades darker than that of his sire, but not as deep as the complexion of his mother, and his facial features matched hers in softness, in contrast to the hardened, roughly cut features of his father. As for his eyes, Joel wasn’t sure where his icy-blue orbs originated from, but neither of his parents had them. His mother told him that those eyes would win the affections of crowds of ladies in the years to come, but Joel was too young to concern himself with love and relationships at this juncture in time.

He looked up when his ears picked up a nearly silent shuffling just beyond his view. One of the temple servants scuttled past him a moment later, bowing his head slightly in greeting but otherwise making no acknowledgment of Joel’s existence. Most of the temple workers were like that. Efficient with their jobs, helpful when asked, but quiet and barely noticeable unless a person went out of their way to seek them out. Joel had been coming here for some time now and still knew not one of their names. Perhaps they wanted it that way. They certainly knew his name, but then again, most people did.

Joel was son of Koal Adelwijn, seneschal of the city, second best to only the king himself. He was a respectable man, fair and just, and had spent most of his early years fighting hard for the position, which deservingly, he had obtained. It was a hard job, rising before the sun and not finding sleep until well after midnight, dealing with the affairs of all the lower ranking officials, not to mention the endless array of council meetings. Joel’s head began to pound just thinking about it. Never would he want to do that on a daily basis. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to.

At times, it was hard being son of the seneschal. It was true, he never went hungry, always had the finest clothes to choose from, and was privileged far more than the average city boy, but it was as if people expected him to be just like his father, follow in his footsteps. Truth be told, Joel had no desire to be a high ranking official; he had spent far too much time around them and he knew from first-hand witnessing the headaches they went through. He just wanted to be himself, whoever that was. He sometimes felt as though he were a lost ant, trapped inside a foreign colony, trying desperately to find the correct hole in the ground to crawl into, where he would feel at peace.

It was odd to not know what he wanted to do with his life yet. Honestly, he could have done anything. With his fathers’ rank to back him up, Joel could have asked to be go into just about any profession, and Koal would have gladly given him the means to obtaining his goal. He just didn’t know yet, which frustrated him, not to mention his family. Lately, he’d been attending classes at the academy (though he technically wasn’t allowed to enroll before his thirteenth year) which Koal had insisted he observe in hopes of finding some topic of interest. He had nearly fallen asleep in the law and government class, succeeded only in falling on his behind in the equestrian lessons, and thankfully nothing had fallen at all during his glass-making course; he’d just found it extremely boring.

Joel sighed deeply, pausing near the center of the worship room. To his left was the golden statue of the Goddess Daya, bringer of light, of birth, of everything warm and gentle and kind. Her counterpart, on the opposite side of the room, was the Goddess Chhaya. Her statue was carved in black onyx, representing her love for the night, for the darker side of the world. She was the destroyer, the bringer of death, but equally respected and worshiped. Together, the two of them brought necessary balance and stability to the world, and each could be counted on for certain types of requests.

Joel hesitated, trying to decide which statue to approach. Daya was known to be more understanding to the request of her worshipers, but Chhaya was the goddess of knowledge. If, by some miracle, he got an answer, surely it would be from her. Joel stepped towards the darker goddess without further hesitation.

At the feet of the statue was an altar, decorated with flickering candles, delicious smelling incenses, and the petals of various wildflowers were scattered perfectly along the top of the stone slab. Joel lowered to his knees before the altar, bowing his head in respect to the Goddess Chhaya. He felt weak, intimidated, and never before had he felt so scrutinized. It was as if the statue itself was looking through him, deep into his soul, measuring his strength, his heart.

Joel closed his eyes, willing the nervousness away. Never on any of his previous visits to the temple had the presence felt so strong, so alive and close, but he had come too far only to back down now. Just a whispered word, a subtle hint as to his purpose in life, that was all he wanted. He just wanted a place to belong in the city. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask of the goddess?

Goddess, hear my request, he began silently. I ask not for riches, power, or fame. I come here night after night only in hopes of discovering who I am. Please hear me.

In the light given by the flickering candles, the statue almost appeared to be moving, flowing with the motion of the burning flame. It was only an illusion, Joel told himself, but there was still something very uncanny about it. He remained knelt before Chhaya for some time, whispering silent words meant only for her ears. Only when the muscles in his knees began to scream did he rise to his feet. His entire body was trembling as he bowed once more before the statue in respect, before disappearing into the night.

Minutes passed in silence as the temple was once again left in isolation. There wasn’t a sound in the world, only a peaceful quiet which seemed to settle across the gray paving stones. And then, when one would be certain time had stopped all together, there was a string of whispered words which came- seemingly- from the heavens themselves.

Soon, Joel Adelwijn, soon.

In the shadows of the night, the statue of the Goddess Chhaya was glowing.