I reach for the hooks beside the entrance, pausing long enough to run my fingers tenderly over the white fabric of several ceremonial robes prepped for visitors. I stop when I find the one I want, cringing with stiffness as I lift my arms to slip it on. I pull up the hood of the robe to cover the neatly pinned back purple tresses of hair, clenching my jaw with the considerableeffort it takes.
My hair is a physical manifestation of the blot that stains my soul. My father insists I keep it tamed and pinned every day, but when I am to enter the Temple, it must be covered completely. In the words of my parents, showing it in a holy place such as this is merely flaunting my sins before the gods that I should be kneeling before.
Every morning is started like this, with a visit to the Temple in dedicated atonement to the gods for allowing myself to be sullied by the Arcane. As if that’s going to do anything to cleanse the dark magic from my body.
I am the first of my kind to be infected by it, the first of the Watchers to experience its touch. For a long time it was believed that those in the bloodline of the gods were incapable of feeling its effects, immune to its darkness. But then Raziel and Celeste had me and I was touched by the Arcane from birth. He’s spent my whole life trying to hide that magic within me, the way it weakens me. Only a few select members of the Watchers know of my condition. My mother and father, of course. One or two of his personal guards. And Tamiel, the Watcher that administers my treatment.
All experimental, of course. Usually those who receive treatment for the Arcane are stripped down to bare versions of themselves, the cleansing process taking so much more than just their power. And then they are submitted into servitude for the gods. I suppose I should be thankful it hasn’t come to that, yet. But according to Tamiel, thattreatment wouldn’t work on me, even if my father decided to try it. The magic in my veins is gods-given, not of this world. Therefore the Arcane affects me differently, as does the cleansing process.
Instead, Tamiel and my father have spent my entire life experimenting with alternative treatment plans and cleansing rituals for the gods’ bloodline, in case any more of our kind become infected. I am nothing more than a lab rat, a test subject. And each treatment day presents with a slew of aches and pains and torments I could not fathom if I wasn’t actively living it.
But the alternative is to let the Arcane claim me fully. And while the treatments always come with a myriad of issues, the Arcane has its own harrowing symptoms that plague me. Its active presence in my body sends me into an episode, an attack unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Whenever I feel its power stirring inside me, I burn. I can’t breathe, can’t see straight, can’t even think. Pain and torment and confusion consume me until I’m sure I’m trapped within the seven hells and damned for all eternity.
So whether it’s at the hand of Tamiel and my father, or at the hand of the Arcane flowing through me, it seems as if I’m cursed. Damned to live a life of this torment.
I finally push into the Temple and kneel at the feet of the marble statues before me. There’s seven of them. Seven nameless gods that no one can recall. They came so long ago, not even our own kind remembers them fully. Allwe have is their legacy; the benevolence they bestowed upon a broken and cursed world, establishing city centers amidst the WildLands and leaving behind a legion of their creation—the Watchers. The priests of the Temple pray in fervent supplication for their return, though we know from prophecy that they will not until we eradicate this world of the Arcane in their honor.
To the gods, the Arcane is a blight, a curse, an infection—the dark magic responsible for destroying this world in the first place. And the Watchers have made it their personal mission to see it snuffed out from every corner of this godsforsaken realm.
I bow my head and mumble a short prayer to each of them, asking for their forgiveness and mercy as they work to cleanse me of this blight. I flinch as my teeth grate against each other amidst my half-hearted prayers. I know by the feel of them that it will be a filing day, my least anticipated day of the week.
“You have to mean it.” Tamiel’s soft voice rings out through the otherwise abandoned Temple.
My nostrils flare as I breathe in deeply, trying to still the irritation building within me. “Forgive me if my actions do not seem enthusiastic today, as my body is constantly recovering from your torment, Tamiel.”
She makes her way in front of me, her own set of white robes flowing around her. I don’t have to look up to know her hands are clasped behind her back and she’slooking down on me in disapproval. I cast my gaze upward regardless, taking in her presence looming over me.
Of all the Watchers in our city, Tamiel is the most otherworldly. She looks as if she stepped out of the heavens themselves, her umber skin glowing in the sunlight filling the stone and marble Temple. Her eyes are the color of creation itself, a shade of green as deep as dewy moss. The planes of her face are slim and callous, her features hardened by a lifetime of unspeakable duties. She turns those features on me now, watching in utter disappointment.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, shaking my head as I peer up to her, despite the blinding headache now thrumming behind my eyes.
“There is no point in maintaining these Temple visits, if your prayers are not heartfelt,” she instructs, revealing no sympathy for my pain. “The gods will never have mercy on you if they sense the apathy in your heart.”
“I have no apathy,” I bite back, my irritation growing. “You think I enjoy being afflicted with this . . . this disease? You think Iwantto continue with our treatments?”
“I think you have no faith in the gods’ ability to heal you.” Her stern voice rings out, bouncing off the stone walls and leaving me without an argument to voice. She waits a moment, letting her accusation sink in before she turns away and continues her pacing behind me. “Again.”
I sigh, but don’t argue. I know it’s pointless. Instead I bow my head and repeat the prayers, putting as much effort as Ican muster behind them. When Tamiel doesn’t voice her disappointment, I take it as my sign to rise.
“You must learn to put as much time in here as you do within my ward. Treatment for your ailment is equal parts medical and spiritual.”
I ignore her warning, moving to slide past her and leave the Temple altogether, but she catches me by the arm, her vibrant eyes staring into my soul.
“Do you truly believe, Tamiel?” My voice is a whisper, a desperate plea for her to drop the facade. “Do you really think they are still watching over us, still blessing this land with their benevolence?”
“Of course,” she scoffs, breaking eye contact. But I can’t miss the way her gaze wanders to the marble statues, a hint of concern etched into her features. It’s gone a moment later and she’s pushing her shoulders back, fixing her eyes on me once more. “This land is tainted with wickedness, damned to the seven hells without the gods' mercy. But our mission here will come to fruition. With each passing year we are seeing fewer exiles, fewer members of the city being touched by the Arcane. Soon enough we will see it eradicated altogether.”
She loosens her grip on my wrist, sliding her arm around mine and leading me to the Temple entrance. “But your doubt will be your downfall, Evangeline. You must be steadfast in your faith. You must not waiver in the midstof your trials. The gods have chosen this path for you for a reason, and all will be revealed soon.”
I nod, even though I don’t believe it. If the gods chose this path for me, then they did nothing but subject me to a life of misery and never-ending pain. I may not agree with much of anything Tamiel shares, but she is right—I had lost my faith. Somewhere between the countless years of suffering, the decades of hiding my true self, and the endless nights of isolation, I’d become incapable of believing there was divine restoration waiting down the line for me.
If you ask my father, my mother, Tamiel—they will tell you I was given this burden to help strengthen the gods' bloodline. To give us answers on how to sustain our power amidst so much darkness. But I cannot understand why I was given such a weight to bear, why this had to be the way. Why our bloodline needs to be strengthened at all, when we already rule so exhaustively.
Tamiel pauses by the entrance of the Temple, pulling off her robes and gently slipping mine off of my shoulders for me. She places both on a hook for the next round of visitors before leading me back to my father’s residence. It strikes me then—usually Dina is the one to accompany me home from the Temple.
“Have you seen Dina?” I ask Tamiel. “Why is she not the one escorting me today?”
“Your father insisted I fetch you this morning. I’ve had something of a breakthrough yesterday and he did not want to waste time to see how the new regimen may help.”
