Bells tolled, breaking the silence of the misty morning. It was Midweek, a holy day where Caelorans trekked uphill to the Aureate Basilica. It sat half buried into the crystalline cliffs of the Silver Coast. The Basilica loomed over the city below, a reminder that the Church saw all, knew all.

  Or so they would have people believe.

  The outer wall of Caelora housed the Outer Veil. Caelorans were not known for their creative naming conventions. The Outer Veil housed the poorer denizens of the city. These were the people the Church spoke to the most, making promises that were seldom kept. How long had they been waiting for repairs to the rowhouses now? Months, maybe closer to a year. People would stop asking soon enough.

  Among the rowhouses were shops. There was a farmer who sold his crops twice a month at a steep discount in a smaller shop on the south end. A blacksmith's forge, a leatherworker, and a few other tradesmen made their homes in the Veil. They'd always cite cheaper taxes when asked why, especially given their high quality wares. They also preferred the taverns full of cheap drinks and cheaper women.

  Close to the center of all of the rabble was a long apothecary shop. Unlike others, this building was two stories, the shop on the lower level and a small flat above it. Before the apothecary moved in, it had housed the Veil's smallest brothel, consisting of two sisters who had "moved up" in society, leaving the building all but abandoned. No one batted an eye when a then scraggly teenager started squatting there and not long after turned it into what it was now.

  Every Midweek, rain or shine, she would sit on the sloped roof staring at the Basilica. The people would pour from their homes and ascend cobblestone streets. She could almost picture them once they were inside its walls. Each head tilted up, voices carrying high into the domed ceiling where a depiction of the First Descent stared down at them. If she strained her hearing, sometimes, just sometimes, she swore she could hear them singing the sacred words of the First Choir.

  "Oh seraphim above, take me into your Light for it is order. Send the darkness away so it won't unmake me." The words tasted like ash.

  Fire burned her upper back, her arms, causing her to fall silent once more. She winced as the feather-like scars there began to glow orange. Gritting her teeth, she dared not to look away as seraph fire burned her. Solenne had long ago learned to breathe through the pain. A deep shaky inhale, exhale it slowly, force her thoughts to contain nothing. A stray thought, no matter its nature, would bring her back to the pain. It took a few minutes for the Mark to stop glowing. The heat receded and she pulled the sleeve of her linen shirt down to cover it.

  She got up slowly. The roof was slick with condensation from the mist. Solenne took her time returning to the small ladder that met the landing outside of her bedroom. It had been decrepit when she had taken over this place. She'd traded a salve and a bottle of firewater to the blacksmith down the road to build her a new ladder. Every now and again she would slip his wife a few extra items in a continued thanks for his work.

  Ting ting

  Confusion crossed her face. Who had come to the shop on Midweek? Solenne locked the window behind her. She tucked her shirt back into her leather trousers. "Just a moment!" She called out to whoever was there. Solenne quickly plaited her dark hair. Even a poor apothecary needed to attempt to look presentable. Walking down the stairs, she stopped on the landing when she spotted a familiar blond haired woman browsing the tinctures she kept behind glass.

  "Roxa? Should you not be at the Basilica?" Solenne tilted her head.

  "I was there. I began to feel ill." Roxa looked up at the apothecary. Her green eyes were red, puffy from crying. "I went to see Healer Cazel. I thought maybe I had just taken the cold that Silas had a few days ago…" Her gaze shifted downward.

  Her heart ached. "What did Cazel tell you?" If Roxa was here, Solenne knew it was nothing good. Caelorans did not seek her out after being given good news from the Healers.

  Heavy sobs filled the shop. Solenne embraced Roxa immediately. As much as the words a hymnal would help, they could not be given. All she could do was hold the other woman until the crying ceased. Solenne would comfort Roxa for as long as that took. That was part of the job. She didn't just create potions and tinctures, sell herbs to heal, sometimes to harm, to take the hard earned money of her fellow Veil dwellers.

  "He said it isn't a cold." Her words were soft between sniffles. Roxa took the handkerchief Solenne handed her. "Thank you… Oh Solenne. Cazel said I have the Bloom." She began to wail again.

  Solenne tensed. The Bloom was a lung sickness. She was surprised Roxa was able to even speak much less cry out as she was. It surprised her that Cazel sent Roxa away. Usually she would have been quarantined within the north spire of the Basilica and treated with Aureate healing magic.

  "Roxa… what did you do?" She hated to sound so accusatory yet she knew it had to be something against the Doctrine for a healing to be denied.

  There was silence now. Roxa clung tighter to Solenne's tear soaked shirt. Slowly, Solenne brought both hands to cup the blonde's face, tilting her head up so she could see her. Their eyes met. Solenne hated seeing the fear there. Roxa exhaled shakily and finally spoke.

  "I broke the vows of my union."

  Solenne watched Roxa's petite hand move to cover her lower stomach. It seemed not only had she broken her vows, she now bore the consequences of such actions.

  "How far along are you?" Solenne needed to know.

  "A month, perhaps longer. My last bleed was two months ago if my journal is correct. I sometimes forget to record them." Roxa couldn't bear to keep looking at Solenne. "Please, Ashen Grace. Heal me so my child may live and I will never disobey the Doctrine again."

  Solenne flinched hearing 'Ashen Grace'. It seemed her kinder words to stop calling her that had fallen on deaf ears once more. Perhaps she would need to be harsher with that boundary. The last thing she needed was for the Candescent Order to catch wind of her. She had managed to operate the shop without their attention being drawn her way for a decade now.

  "You say you'll follow the Doctrine but are you not going against it again by asking for my healing touch?"

  Roxa turned her head, forcing it from Solenne's hands. It was true. The wrath of the Candescent Order could be evoked by simply uttering that 'unholy' title. Both women knew what they were doing was the highest form of heresy. Still, Solenne knew that she could not let a babe die simply because their mother sinned. If anyone knew the consequences of an ancestor's sins, it was her. She saw no reason to pass such a thing on to a child who had yet to even draw their first breath.

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  Solenne slowly pulled Roxa to her feet. "Mercy is only holy when the Choir decrees it."

  They looked at one another. That was the Tenet of the Luminaire Doctrine that Solenne broke every time she took someone to the moss covered door at the back of the shop. The door that wasn't supposed to exist yet it did. She hadn't even noticed it at first until clearing off the nearby wall to place new shelves. Behind it was a set of stairs leading down to an earthen cellar deep enough to stand up fully in. Each time those steps were descended, a heretical, blasphemous act was conducted. Solenne should have stopped years ago.

  Yet, there she was, leading another wayward soul down the stairs. This would not be the last time. For as long as she could get away with it, she would heal the people the church refused to. Solenne knew her compassion would be her downfall. How else did she pay for the sins of her blood?

  They followed a well worn path on the dirt floor. Behind a set of shelves was a small bed, barely big enough to fit a full grown adult. It looked soft, comforting even. Thick blankets covered the mattress with a plethora of pillows. A nest. A safe place. Somewhere those she healed could rest, as the healing was draining on all parties involved.

  "Lay." She commanded.

  There was no hesitation as Roxa hiked up her skirts and crawled into the bed. Solenne adjusted her to rest on her side, back facing the wall. Roxa closed her eyes when told to. The healing Solenne did was not something she wanted anyone to see. Whispers on the streets spoke of the orange-red glow of wings scarred along the back of her arms. She wished she had confirmed that Herin's eyes had truly been closed when she healed him almost two years ago. It had been too late to stop the word from spreading. At least that spark hadn't ignited a fire.

  Solenne breathed in deeply. She pressed her palm against Roxa's back. Unlike the healers of the church, incantations did not control her abilities. All she had to do was draw upon the well of white-hot light in her chest and direct it. As she exhaled, she pulled the light into her upper back, letting it cascade down her arms. The wall behind her lit up with a soft orange glow. Her eyes squeezed shut. Breathe through it, she reminded herself. The heat was unbearable to her.

  To Roxa, it was a gentle heat, yet as it penetrated her body, she began to whine and squirm. The Bloom was being eradicated bit by bit. Each thin tendril was burned away by holy fire. Solenne knew the woman could feel it. She wished she could have given her something to dull her senses but the babe in her womb would not allow it.

  "Shhh. It's almost over. Just a bit more." Somehow Solenne kept her words comforting. The glow faded. Her nostrils were flared. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she forced the searing heat back into the hollow place it rested. Her hands left Roxa's body. She straightened up and rolled her neck. The movement distracted anyone who looked at her from the dying glow behind her. Roxa had rolled over just as the neck roll finished.

  "You look sick." Guilt washed the relief from her face. Sitting up, she reached out to Solenne. "Lay here with me." Roxa patted what little room her skirts left in the nest.

  Solenne shook her head. "No. It will pass. There is no reason to fret over me." She pressed Roxa back down. "Sleep now. I will come and retrieve you in an hour or so." Roxa nodded. Solenne left her to rest.

  She ran to her room once the cellar door was closed. Solenne could feel the fever spreading across her body. The Mark pulsed with every step she took. With no one else around, she allowed herself to whimper. Sweat dripped down into her eye. The sting made her blink rapidly. It drew out the tears she had tried to hold back. Her body shivered, her breathing grew ragged, the heat nearly unbearable. Shoving the bathroom door open, she hit her knees in front of the toilet. Within seconds, her body purged itself of food and ash.

  After what felt like hours, she rested her forehead against the cool porcelain, and wondered why she couldn't stop this. Saying no should have been easy. Her body ached. She groaned as she rolled off of her knees and onto her bum. Solenne looked down at her hands. The black on the tips of her fingers had spread to the end of her nailbed. If she kept this up it would soon reach her first knuckle. Solenne was going to have to invest in gloves soon, find an excuse to wear them even while working. Did she even have the funds for a pair?

  Solenne pulled herself up. She wobbled a bit, still shaky from the fading fever. Her own nested sanctuary was just steps away. An hour would give her plenty of time to recover. Then once Roxa was gone, she would close the shop and cook dinner. Maybe she would open late tomorrow. Allow herself a bit more respite than she usually did. Just as she began to untuck her shirt, a knock interrupted her.

  Who was knocking? Most people just walked in. She hadn't locked it nor put a sign up stating she was closed for 'afternoon prayer' like she did when she just needed a break from everything. Her head tilted, her eyes narrowed, surely she had just been hearing a bird outside pecking on the wall. There were a few moments of silence before the knocking occurred once more. Three heavy blows against wood. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders slumped. Why in the Light was this Midweek so eventful?

  "Hold on just a moment." Solenne snapped as another round came. She had no idea who was being so impatient. Ripping the door open, she found herself face to face with a man.

  He wasn't what she was expecting to see. Solenne looked at the silver and blue robes he wore, the spectacles perched on his nose, and the bag over his shoulder. He smelled like myrrh and ink. Why was a scholar at her door? One of the Ecclesium no less. A shadow of anxiety snaked its way around her ribs. No. If the Candescent Order knew about her they wouldn't have sent a scholar.

  "Are you the apothecary?" He asked as he looked her over. She watched his mouth form into a frown upon his inspection. It took everything in her not to smirk. Of course a man of the cloth did not approve of her wearing trousers.

  "Yes I am. Please, come in." Solenne motioned for him to join her inside. He dipped his head before stepping over the threshold. Once inside, she shut the door behind them. "How can I help you, scholar? Have you come seeking a waking tonic to help in your studies?"

  He shook his head. "Uh, no. I don't usually need such things. No, I'm here on behalf of the Ecclesium." The scholar peered around the shop. He didn't seem impressed by it.

  Solenne bit her tongue. "And why would the Ecclesium send a scholar to my shop?" She was getting a bit agitated, especially knowing Roxa still rested in the cellar below them.

  As if noticing this, he cleared his throat and got to the point. "Apothecary practices are being forgotten within the Aureate Church. I have been tasked with preserving such practices should a time come when our Healers can no longer draw upon the magic that the First Choir blessed them with."

  She snorted a bit. "So they sent you here? Are there no other apothecaries in the Central?" Solenne knew there were. They were far pricier than she was for far less potency.

  "There are, but I was specifically asked to find one of true talent to study. Your name was given to me by a few shopkeepers and people of the Veil."

  "So you know my name yet I have not been given the same courtesy." Solenne crossed her arms over her chest.

  His face flushed pink. "My apologies Solenne Veyra." He bowed. "My name is Emrys Durand. I wish to become your apprentice." Emrys stayed bowed but looked up at her as he awaited her response.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose again as she sighed. "Stand up. Ecclesium scholars don't bow to the poor. If anything you should be looking down your bespectacled nose at me." Her irritation was poorly hidden. This Midweek had become far too overwhelming. The exhaustion from the healing was growing heavier. Solenne looked at him. "What happens if I tell you no?"

  "I keep showing up at your door until you tell me yes." He said with a smirk. Emrys ran a hand through his rust colored hair. "Or I return to the Ecclesium, tell them you are refusing an order from the Church, and let them decide how to handle you."

  Solenne raised an eyebrow. There was no mincing of words with this one. "Ah so to be annoyed by a rusty bookworm or thrust into holy chains for simply wanting to exist. Seems I have no choice then." She shrugged as she made her way to the door. "Come back in the morning and we can speak again over breakfast."

  Emrys nodded. "As you wish. I will see you at dawn's first light." He bowed once more before leaving the shop.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Solenne closed and locked the door. She would open it again when Roxa needed to leave but until then, she was going to bed and no one was going to interrupt her again.