Why did they do this to her? Had she done anything wrong?
She always listened and always obeyed. She never lied . . .
But they did.
“Lyssena, come back here,” snarled the voice of that horrid-looking knight, his words snapping through the hallway like a whip that promised to find her skin the moment she belonged to him. But she didn’t belong to him; she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, and no voice, no threat, no man’s coin could ever make that right in her soul.
She rounded the door and slammed it shut, the sound cracking like thunder through her bones, and with every breath she threw herself against the bed, her entire weight driving itinch by inch across the wooden floor, though it was heavy and she was so tired and her stomach was empty, and her body shook with grief and fury and terror, and still the tears would not stop falling.
Who are you, fifth god? Let me pray to you. Please, let me pray.
A thunderous knock shook the door in its frame, and the bed creaked in protest beneath her straining limbs as she braced against it with her knees, her lower back aching, her breath a frantic rush between sobs.
“Go away!” she screamed, and she didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice, raw and animal, something she had never heard from herself before, never in all her life.
Please help me, great fifth god,she pleaded in silence.I don’t know your name, I don’t know how to speak to you, I don’t even know if you listen, but if you do, if you’ve ever listened to anyone, listen to me now.
“I will break that door if you don’t open it!”
His voice crashed through the air like thunder, closer, louder, vicious and unrelenting, and Lyssena’s eyes darted wildly around the room in search of anything to block the door, anything heavy to save her, to protect her. Her gaze snagged on the prayer desk, on the candles and the books she had cherished, and she knew she couldn’t move it in time.
So she turned to the bookshelf, hands trembling uncontrollably as she grabbed every thick volume she could reach and tossed them onto the bed, stacking them high, as if the weight of stories and parchment and prayer could somehow shield her from the fury breaking toward her.
Please, fifth god,she begged.If you are real, hear me now. I am begging. I am pleading. I am sorry I never lit your flame. I am sorry I never asked your name. But I ask now. Please. Please help me.
A scream ripped from her throat as the door splintered, wood cracking like bones, and the knight crashed into the room with a monstrous force that knocked the air from her lungs as she fell hard on her back and hands, pain blooming sharp in her wrists as she scrambled to crawl backward across the floor.
Please let me know your name.
He strode toward her slowly, his face twisted in rage, his eyes burning wild and unhinged, and there was such hatred in his expression that it made her feel like she might come undone entirely, as if she could vanish into her own fear.
Her head struck the edge of the prayer desk, and she winced, blinking back the sharp pain, but her gaze locked instantly on the candle she had never lit—the fifth flame.
I have to light it. I have to do it now.
“You little bitch,” the knight snarled, his voice thick with venom and gravel, “HOW DARE YOU!”
Her fingers fumbled across the surface of the desk, slick with sweat and trembling so violently she could hardly grip the flint, but she struck it once—nothing—again—sparks—and on the third strike, finally, a flame.
It caught slowly, reluctantly, the wick resisting the fire as if unsure it wanted to burn at all, but then it did.
And the fire was not gold.
It was dark like ink and blood and shadow, a flame that swallowed light instead of offering it.
The knight let out a cruel, barked laugh. “The gods won’t help you,” he spat, stepping closer with the certainty of a man who believed the world owed him its obedience. “They never do.”
Lyssena pressed her palms together, breath ragged, limbs trembling, but she closed her eyes and whispered anyway.
Please . . . I don’t know your name, but I offer myself, I offer my voice, I offer my soul if you want it—just save me. Save me from him.
She pleaded so hard she couldn’t hear the man standing before her. She pleaded so hard she couldn’t even notice how the knight was already standing right in front of her face.
Erevos.
Her eyes snapped open. “What?” she whispered aloud, blinking as if the name had struck her from within.
The knight paused, his hand hanging above his chest, his brows furrowing. “What did you say?”
