The celebration would continue until the stars had stopped falling. The commencement ceremony would be held the following afternoon. There, the newly gifted would present themselves to King Hawthorne, damning themselves to fate.
Such bullshit.
I rolled my body away from the glaring sun—so bright and promising and not at all resembling how I felt about today. I'd been agonizing over this moment for months. If I am going to be screwed over by the gods, I’d know by the end of the day.
In all honesty, the whole process of being gifted baffled me. If I was deemed worthy, I wouldn't know until the precise second that I turned twenty-one, when the jewel that has resided within me since conception fully matured. The gemstone determined by whichever god chose me would break through my flesh, leaving my skin embellished with a glittering source of magic.
Nothing was more powerful and energetic than the forces of nature, and the gods used mortals to contain these forces in balance. Those who had access to a fragment of their divine power were seen as assistants to the deities. With every exertion of their magic, the chosen aided in controlling the chaos of the world.
Most of the gifted had worn their jewels for months now, but the powers held within would not be active until tonight. The meteor shower acted as a trigger, relinquishing the gods’ hold on their magic. Only when the mosaic of jewel-toned stars tumbled from the heavens would the chosen feel the first sparks of their power. The transition was extraordinary to watch, but I had no desire to experience the event for myself.
Desperate to quiet the wandering chaos in my mind, I closed my eyes and begged my body to return to my dream state.
The attempt didn't last long.
Soon enough, my eyes were wide open again, gazing at the ceiling above me. My cheeks puffed out with angst-filled air as I glanced around my bedroom.
My family's home was small, to say the least. The floorboards creaked when stepped on, indicating the deteriorationof the cabin. Some of the logs that built the walls had begun to rot, creating a musty smell that would waft throughout the house during the heat of summer. My bedchamber was snug, but despite its size, the space had been turned into a perfect depiction of myself. My writing and drawings coated the walls, some of them dated back to the moment I learned to hold a quill. Just enough light emitted from the single window, which I found myself grateful for in the evenings when rays of moonlight guided my hand as I wrote in my journal. Aside from the ocean, my room was my safe place.
Before my father died, we had lived in a larger, newer house closer to the coastline. I didn’t remember it, though. I was barely a year old when he was killed. The only images I could paint of him were those described to me by my mother and Delani.
While lost in my state of nostalgia, I almost missed the sound of a soft knock hitting my door. I jolted upright, my quilt lying flat against my lap as Delani’s head peered through the crack in the doorway.
“Psst. Are you awake?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Happy Birthday!” she cheered, disturbing the peaceful silence of my room and pushing through the doorway.
“Thanks,” I sulked, then pulled the quilt up and over my face, just for her to tear it off and glare at me.
Delani rolled her eyes as she flopped down beside me on the mattress. “Maeve, I know what you're thinking, and Ipromisethat the odds of you being gifted are extremely unlikely. You aren't that special,” she teased, then raised her voice even more before continuing. “Sopleasejust try to enjoy your birthday and Jewel-Light tonight.”
I sighed through my nostrils and crossed my arms over my chest. “You say it as if it's such a ridiculous thing for me to be concerned about,” I huffed.
“It kinda is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is.”
“I don't even want to go this year.”
“Oh, please. Knock it off.”
“I’m serious.”
Delani rolled her eyes again. “You're just being stubborn. Get up and get dressed. I want to leave after lunch.”
I didn't budge.
“Come on…” Her voice hummed as she begged. “It will be quite entertaining seeing which of the Fletcher boys makes an ass of himself this year.”
Her comment pulled a chuckle free from my lungs. “He’ll never live that down.” I laughed. The oldest of the Fletcher boys, Cedric, had gotten so drunk that he stripped to his undergarments and jumped on top of one of the buffet tables. I was pretty sure he was banned from attending the festival this year after the display of meats and vegetables tumbled into the dirt.
“Gods no. I’ll never let him. And remember how much fun we had last year?” Delani chimed.
“You mean howdrunkwe got?” I snorted. “That's the last time I let you make me a mixed drink.”
