My father placed his hands gently on my shoulders, mistaking my shiver for anxiety over my Awakening. Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous for the ceremony or to receive my powers. At the end of it all, I would be whatever I would be. There was no known way to change your designation or affinity, not that I’d want that anyway.
He squeezed gently as I tore my eyes from Lord d’Refan and found Torin leaning against the wall directly next to a set of doors, the picture of ease. He caught me looking and sent me a wink and a smile, which I gladly returned. Eventually my gaze fell on my mother and brother. Peytor was leaning heavily on Finian and I frowned. Peytor had clearly had a lot to drink tonight, and I worried about him giving away his and Finian’s relationship because of his drunkenness. Finian offered me a tight smile while he held onto his lover’s back, supporting him in more ways than one.
Mother’s face was schooled in a carefully blank expression, but her eyes betrayed her nervousness. She kept flicking her gaze between Lord d’Refan in the back and me on the stage, and not for the first time I wondered what she was thinking about and why she was so nervous in Lord d’Refan’s presence.
“Tonight, my daughter will receive her powers from Fate itself. My family, and Hestin in general, are honored that you could be here tonight to witness this occasion!” My father’s voice jolted me from my thoughts and there was a smattering of applause at his words. “I would also like to announce the betrothal of Lord Torin d’Eshu of the Southern Territories to my daughter. We hope that this union will help to strengthen the relationshipbetween the two halves of Elyria and help to facilitate peace in this ever-growing conflict.” There was applause again, but less this time, and it was coupled with mummers from the onlookers.
I thought we agreed to court? What was the rush?
I snapped my eyes to the back of the room as I felt waves of power crest over me. Lord d’Refan looked positively murderous, and I felt my father’s hands tighten on my shoulders. Apparently, my father hadn’t approached Lord d’Refan about my betrothal to Torin, and I couldn’t help the sense of foreboding that washed over me.
There will be repercussions, was my first thought, especially since Lord d’Refan never got the answers he so desired from our earlier conversation.
Lord d’Refan seemed like he was going to take steps toward the stage, before one of the doors creaked open slightly, and the General slipped unnoticed into the room. Lord d’Refan tore his gaze from the stage and focused on his General, hands clenched at his sides in obvious anger. The General leaned toward Lord d’Refan and said a few things, which seemed to visibly relax and calm him. Though, with his relaxation, my hackles raised. A serpentine smile took over Lord d’Refan’s face as he turned back to the stage.
We’re cornered prey, and the predator has come to play.
I clasped my hands in front of me to keep from fiddling with them, and my dress crinkled with the motion. My heart rate spiked, and I began to sweat.
How has no one else noticed the power and anger emanating from him right now?
The thought completely unnerved me that I was theonlyone who seemed worried about his current actions, the rest of the guests still had their gazes glued to my father and me on the raised platform.
“In a rare occurrence, my friends, a Priest of Fate has agreed to perform tonight’s ceremony for my daughter, Ellowyn.” Murmurs fled through the crowd again, this time in barely surpassed excitement. Priests, especially those of the elusive Fate, rarely left their temples. With the decaying relations between those blessed by Kaos and those blessed by Solace, in conjunction with the encroachment of rebellion forces from the South, the faith in the gods and the display of that faith had greatly waned. Many temples sat empty and bare, no offerings and no visitors present.
I was struck again by the sheer oddity that was my Awakening—Lord d’Refan’s attendance, my mother’s fear, the arrival of the Keeper, and now the Priest of Fate. It all felt like too much for just me.
Upon my father’s words, the priest in question slowly entered the room from the same doors that served as my entrance. The room fell into an awed hush as the priest made their way toward the platform. They were covered head-to-toe in sheer black robes, making it impossible to decipher their gender, an identifying factor for all Priests of Fate. Fate was genderless and ambiguous, so their priests were molded to match Fate’s nature. Conversely, Kaos was dominated by male servants and Solace by females.
The priest wore an elaborate black headdress—one with twelve spikes and interconnecting nearly-translucent threads—which represented the threads of Fate. Their hands, encased in black gloves, were clasped loosely in front of their body and they moved slowly yet methodically. As they reached the stairway to the platform, my father bent and gave me a kiss against my cheek before jumping from the platform to offer his hand in assistance to the priest. The priest waved my father away, and he acquiesced with a quick bow.
The priest moved to take the place of my father, and I quickly realized that they weren’t much taller than me. I tried to find some discernible feature beneath the robes but came up empty. The priest stopped and simply stared at me, at least I though that’s what they did. I couldn’t be entirely certain with the sheer fabric covering their eyes.
After a moment, the priest spoke in a tone that again both disguised age and gender. It was as if their voice was constantly distorted—one minute young and female, the next deep and male. It was constantly in flux and made the whole experience slightly disorienting.
“Child of Fate.” Shivers cascaded down my spine at the priest’s words.
The similarity to the woman and shadow’s words chilled me to the bone.
Did the priest know?
“Today you offer your life in service to Fate. In turn, you will be chosen by one of his children and blessed with a gift. How you use your gift is your choice, your will. But know there is a balance to life—a reaction for every one of your actions. With life, comes death. With truth, knowledge. With Solace, Kaos.” Their words ran through the silent room.
I had never seen an Awakening Ceremony performed this way. Peytor’s and Finian’s were performed by one of the acolytes from the temple with a bit more fanfare than what was performed for everyone else. The importance of this moment was not lost on me. The priest dipped a hand into their robes and procured a short blade, no longer than my hand. It shone with an almost blue-tinged light, and there were hundreds of tiny runes inscribed along the blade. I was shocked and entranced—the acolytes used a blade to make the cuts and draw the runes, but this blade was something otherworldly.
“Your hands, Child.” The priest motioned for me, and I faced the crowd, palms facing up. “Blood is our truest form, it holds our very being and Essence within. And your truest form is what Fate will judge.” They sliced each of my palms, blood pooling in my upturned hand. The cut was deep, and my blood seeped through my fingers, staining my dress red and dripping onto the platform with a steady rhythm.
“May Fate see you truly, Child.” Their words carried a tone of finality and they gestured for me to turn my palms over each of the stone bowls beside me. My blood ran off my hands and quickly coated the bottom of each bowl. Up close, I realized that each was inscribed with the same runes that were found on the priests’ dagger, and I swore I saw light emanate from each rune my blood touched. I was alarmed by how different this was in comparison to every other ceremony I’d witnessed, and I looked up briefly, but no one else seemed to think anything was amiss.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light ignited from both Kaos’ and Solace’s pedestals. The light was blinding, and I put my arm in front of my face to shield my eyes. The light was gone as soon as it appeared, and I reluctantly pulled my arm away from my face. But I didn’t see my guests staring back at me, or even the interior of our ballroom.
I was back at the place from my dreams—the one with the cracked earth and the constant impending storm that hummed with magic. Magic I could now see andfeel. It was a heady sensation and I looked up at the clouds awash in color as strains of magic clashed in the sky. It was simultaneously awe-inspiring and terrifying.
“Child, you’ve returned,”the ambiguous voice called from somewhere over my left shoulder, drawing my gaze reluctantly away from the stormabove me. I wondered, not for the first time, where this place was and if the storm was even real.
I turned slowly, my dress swishing against the dry earth and finally saw the owner of the voice that had haunted my dreams for so long. They were tall, impossibly tall, and extremely willowy. I craned my neck to take in their full form and was struck by how closely they resembled the priest from the ballroom. Encased in black gossamer robes, the figure floated a few inches above the ground, and I saw no noticeable legs underneath. Their arms were spindly, and their hands were completely black. In one hand they toyed with an hourglass, constantly spinning it around even if the grains of sand had not entirely transitioned from one side to the other. The other hand clutched a small bronze set of scales. They didn’t say anything more, just stared at me.
I was suddenly awash with immediate understanding.
