The Jealous Gaze
The late afternoon sun slanted through the high arched windows of the Grand Cathedral's central cloister, casting long, serene shadows across the meticulously raked gravel paths and the vibrant flowerbeds bursting with summer blooms. Elias walked slowly along one of the covered walkways, ostensibly reviewing a scroll detailing the upcoming Feast of St. Lumina. His mind, however, was a turbulent sea far removed from liturgical schedules. The phantom pressure of Theron's lips, the searing memory of his whispered "sacred," the terrifyingly beautiful resonance that hummed beneath his skin whenever the Commander was near – it all conspired to make the sacred texts in his hands feel like meaningless parchment.
He paused near a trellis heavy with crimson roses, the heady perfume momentarily overwhelming. He closed his eyes, seeking the tranquility the cloister was designed to inspire. Instead, he felt the echo of Theron's heat, the possessive grip on his wrist, the devastating intensity of his gaze. A faint, traitorous flush crept up his neck. Sacrilege. Miracle. The words warred, leaving him breathless and adrift.
A familiar, powerful presence prickled at the edge of his awareness even before the measured footsteps sounded on the flagstones. Elias didn't need to turn. He felt Theron's approach like a shift in atmospheric pressure. He opened his eyes just as the Commander rounded the corner of the walkway, his imposing frame momentarily blocking the sunlight. Theron wasn't looking at the roses or the serene vista. His amber eyes were fixed solely on Elias, a look of intense, focused assessment that sent a fresh jolt through Elias's system. It wasn't the raw hunger of the balcony, but a fierce protectiveness, a silent checking-in that bypassed words.
"Cardinal Vance," Theron greeted, his voice the usual low rumble, but Elias heard the underlying current – the resonance humming just beneath the surface, responding to his own proximity. "The additional guards for the relic procession have been assigned. They report directly to Kain."
"Thank you, Commander," Elias managed, his voice thankfully steady. He kept his gaze on the scroll, unable to meet that penetrating stare without revealing too much. "Your diligence is appreciated."
Theron didn't move. He stood there, a silent, watchful sentinel barely an arm's length away. Elias could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint scent of leather and steel and that underlying wildness. The air between them thickened, charged with the unspoken tension of their stolen moments, the dangerous harmony that sparked whenever they were near. Theron's gaze lingered, tracing the line of Elias's profile, the flush on his neck, before finally, reluctantly, shifting to scan the cloister perimeter, ever the vigilant protector. But his attention snapped back to Elias almost instantly, drawn like a lodestone.
Unseen, from the shadowed archway leading to the Chapter House, another pair of eyes watched this exchange with mounting, corrosive intensity.
Deacon Averey stood partially concealed by a heavy velvet drape, his slender frame rigid. His usually meticulously composed face was tight, pale with an emotion that turned his pale blue eyes icy. He clutched a sheaf of perfectly copied hymns to his chest like a shield, his knuckles white. He had been on his way to deliver them to the Precentor when the sight of Commander Blackwood deliberately seeking out Cardinal Vance had rooted him to the spot.
Averey was young, ambitious, and fiercely intelligent. He had entered the seminary with dreams of swift advancement, his sharp mind and eloquent piety marking him as a rising star. He had worked tirelessly, cultivating the right connections, mastering the intricate dance of ecclesiastical politics. He saw the crimson robes Elias Vance now wore as his own rightful destiny – robes earned not just by healing talent, but by political maneuvering and doctrinal purity, virtues Averey believed he possessed in greater measure than the quiet, seemingly naive Cardinal.
But Elias Vance… Vance had ascended with infuriating ease. His "Resonant Light" was a fluke, a parlor trick elevated to sainthood by sentimentality! And now… now the Commander of the Holy Knights, the Church's indomitable Sword, a man Averey viewed with a mixture of awe and strategic ambition, was utterly fixated on him.
Averey's gaze darted between the two men. The way Theron Blackwood stood – not at a respectful distance befitting a knight to a high-ranking prelate, but close. Too close. The way his entire posture angled towards Vance, protective, possessive. The unnatural stillness in the Commander, usually a coiled spring of energy, when he was near the Cardinal. And Vance… the faint flush on his cheeks, the way he avoided Theron's gaze, the subtle tension thrumming through his slender frame… it wasn't fear. It was something else. Something intimate. Forbidden.
Jealousy, cold and sharp as a stiletto, pierced Averey's chest. It wasn't just envy of Elias's position, though that burned fiercely. It was the bitter sting of being overlooked. He, Deacon Averey, with his impeccable service and doctrinal precision, was invisible to Commander Blackwood. Yet Elias Vance, with his dangerous anomaly of Light and his fragile piety, commanded the fierce, undivided attention of the most powerful knight in Luminar. It was an insult. A perversion.
Averey's sharp mind, honed for spotting doctrinal deviations and political weaknesses, began to whir. The Commander's unprecedented interest… Vance's unusual Light… their proximity… the rumors already swirling among the lower clergy about the Commander's "attentiveness" during the Warrens incident… It wasn't just professional concern. It was personal. Deeply personal. And anything personal between a Holy Knight Commander and a Cardinal-elect, especially one as unorthodox as Vance, was a vulnerability. A scandal waiting to erupt.
A cruel, calculating light sparked in Averey's pale eyes. Ambition curdled into something darker. If Vance's rise was built on undeserved favor and dangerous anomalies, and if Theron Blackwood was compromised by… whatever this unseemly fascination was… then exposing it wasn't just satisfying vengeance; it was a holy duty. It was removing a dangerous impurity from the Church's heart. And it would clear the path for those truly worthy, those who adhered to the pure Light, untainted by shadow or scandal.
He watched as Theron finally gave a curt nod, his gaze lingering on Elias for a heartbeat longer than necessary before turning to stride away, his boot heels echoing sharply in the cloister. Elias visibly sagged against the trellis for a moment, a hand rising briefly to touch his own lips before he caught himself, glancing around furtively.
Averey didn't move. He remained in the shadows, a silent, venomous observer. His gaze followed Elias, then tracked Theron's retreating form. The seeds of suspicion, watered by bitter envy and ambition, had taken root. He would watch. He would listen. He would note every interaction, every lingering glance, every moment that seemed… off. Deacon Averey, the overlooked, the ambitious, the jealous, had found a new purpose. He would be the vigilant guardian of the Church's purity, and his weapon would be the secrets hidden in the charged space between the Cardinal and his Commander. The serene cloister, bathed in golden light, now held a serpent in its garden, its gaze fixed with cold, jealous malice on the unwitting figures of Elias Vance and Theron Blackwood.