“These are the principles you must live by if you plan to Ascend. How you fare will determine if you remain as Apprenti, rise to Rabbini, or join the Farasee Order itself.”
He tilted his head at me, as if sending a personal message.
“And on therareoccasion you Ascend from Disciple to Farasee, it will be because these truths of the Age burn bright within you. Enough for our Profèt to deem you worthy of the Order.”
“Such a grandiose speech to say a whole lot of bullrot,” Daelun whispered, his mouth full of peanut brittle. I chuckled under my breath. Of course he found a way to sneak in snacks.
Farasee Kaelthos gestured around the cathedral.
“As a Disciple with the intention of one dawn becoming a Farasee, to you much is given, so in return much will be required. It is with this weight you will have to carry out judgment. Whether it is of Angels or Gods. Shifters or Giants. Faerèth, Merriens, or the Edennite mortals. At some point youwill judge and give out sentences. It is part of your duty on behalf of His Majesty, Empràr Zadkias Claudevin. Do you all follow?”
“Awoui, Farasee Kaelthos.”
As one, every Disciple clapped their wings together twice. Not a single Legionnaire, Hallowed or Marked, participated. Not that they needed to. They weren’t Disciples.
Still.
Kaelthos took note of the lack of respect from our Azarath companions. His cheeks grew hot. Irritation thickened his neck.
“Now, it’s easy tospeakon righteous judgment. And like all Presbitaris, I love a good presentation myself. But I have always believed demonstration was better.”
There was a lift in Kaelthos’s tone that made my spine tingle. I cut a glance at Ellabeth. She looked back, her eyes widening with concern.
“Eyes down,” I whispered.
Ellabeth nodded. We both fixed our eyes on our scrolls. Quazar scooted even closer, letting his shadows loose around my hips and ankles. Whatever Kaelthos was up to, even the Fallen Prince was concerned.
“If our Scourgers would please present themselves.”
My head snapped up.
Ellabeth shot out a hand, gripping my arm, her eyes wide.
Three Scourgers stepped forward from a burst of obsidian light. Their raven black wings hung heavily to the floor of the dais, as they landed on their unseen feet shrouded beneath the skirts of their long, dark robes. Their faces were mangled. Like they’d been beaten badly and never went to see a Raephim for mending.
“Why in the stars are there Scourgers here?” Omarion hissed, kissing his teeth.
“This can’t be good,” Kazemir grunted.
My hearts began pounding. What was Kaelthos up to?
Bend, but do not break. Burn, but never bleed.
The Anathelle proverb sang in my mind. Quazar had removed his feet from our shared desk and sat up. He was unnaturally still, eyes glaring into the three Scourgers below. He slipped a hand to my knee, gripping it tightly. I found myself placing a hand on top of his to help him calm his nerves. He’d clearly had encounters with the Scourgers before and was triggered by them now.
“Farasee Kaelthos,” called out a Disciple from Bond Order. “What are Scourgers doing here in Sanctuary?”
“We are here to teach a lesson child,” the tall Scourger in the middle said. His breath was like a dying whisper. Airy, strained, yet dripping with ancient cruelty. “And we have names. You will address me as Scourger Jeroah. These are my fellows, Refayim and Lilithine.”
“Scourger Jeroah, thank you for taking the time to be with us,” Kaelthos said, too excited for my liking. “Please choose the Disciple you deem best for this illustration.”
Without hesitation, all three Scourgers turned their crimson blood eyes to Incense Order.
And they pinned them on me.
Scourger Jeroah raised a crooked, umber finger, pointing it in my direction.
“We choose Disciple Safah Anathelle. It is tradition for this illustration to be performed by one with Nebulae blood. Like her Manmis before her, she is our choice this dawn.”
