“But Scourger Jeroah,” I blurted out, trying to reason with the harbinger of punishment. “Disciple Tharic is a Zamarien. Surelyheis the better choice.” I gestured over at Tharic whose face turned from pearl to scarlet. “He has Nebulae blood, too!” My hearts hammered in my chest. Fear prickled my palms as I begged for the Infinite to make me disappear.
“You are correct, young one. But we have no need of sunfire this dawn,” Jeroah wore a small, conniving smile. “We need the fire of the stars.”
“Rot,” Omarion cursed from behind me.
“Hèls-infested temple,” Isandra whispered. “I don’t like this.”
I wanted to scream. Everyone was staring at me now. Waiting to see what I’d do.
Quazar was frozen in his seat as he watched me with unreadable eyes. He retracted his shadows, and his hand from my knee, as his face hardened. When I poked around our tethered bond, I found the veil sealed tight.
Great. There went the bit of progress we’d made.
I stood up.
“Do you accept to demonstrate, Disciple Safah?”
Like I had a burning choice. I nodded, bowing low.
“Yes, Scourger Jeroah. I accept.”
“Come, child.”
My wings twitched nervously as I floated to the ramp separating the isles and began walking down. I could have flown, but I wanted some time to think. I searched my brain recklessly, trying to see if this had anything to do with something Manmi had taught me and I’d forgotten. But no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t think of a single lesson where she mentioned I’d be summoned by the Scourgers.
What did they mean this was an Anathelle tradition?
And where in the stars was Granmanmi?
When I reached the floor, I floated to a hover in front of Incense Order. The moment I looked at the Scourgers, a table surfaced. I looked down to find three Dragontail whips. Each was meant for shredding through bones, wings, and skin.
“I like where this is going,” Tharic commented loudly. “We should do illustrated lessons more often.”
I sniffed a trap and knew I was in the center of it. My hearts slammed inside my chest, beating like drums. Without thinking, I reached down the bond with my starfire, brushing against the veiled door separating Quazar and I. Without hesitation Quazar dropped the veil and let me in. My starlit tendrils seeped into his pool of shadows. It felt like being hugged. Like being held. It felt safe.
“Remember DisciplesandLegionnaires”—Kaelthos glared at Quazar—“sacrifice is better than obedience. You cannot interrupt or intervene. Any angel who does, forfeits their Ascension. Their Legion.” A beat. “And their life.”
Gasps broke out across the cathedral.
“You cannot assist Disciple Safah. Nor can you assist those being judged.”
I looked at Kaelthos. The resounding hatred and triumph glittering in his eyes terrified me.
“What do you mean ‘those being judged’?”
Kaelthos beamed. “Turn around, Disciple.”
I did.
At first, I just looked back at Incense Order. A sea of pearl, brown, and umber skinned angels all clad in Disciple gold or Legionnaire black, stared back at me. Most were confused, unsure of what in the stars was going on. I looked into Quazar’s eyes. They were glowing. Wild. A growing rage seeped to their surface.
Then ten Marked came into view. Their hands, feet, and wings were shackled. They’d been bloodied and beaten, bodies already littered with visible bruises beneath their tattered clothing. When they looked at me, looked into my eyes, terror colored their faces grey.
“She’s an Anathelle,” one female whimpered. “We are so dead.”
“Please,” cried a male. “We haven’t done anything.Please.”
I looked at Quazar. He watched me behind that mask of neutrality. I couldn’t get a solid read on him. I poked into our bond. He’d let me stay in his shadows. He hadn’t shut me out. I couldn’t place why, but that was probably the most comforting thing I could hold on to in this moment. I took deeper steps into that well of shadows, sinking further, desperate for this moment to pass. I squared my shoulders, still facing Incense Order with my chin raised.
