“Are they…?”
His tone lowers. “Yes, child. They are gone.”
“What happened? Who were those riders? What did they do to them?”
He hushes me. “We have no time for that now. We must go.”
Grand Minister Judiah is the highest man in the Order—our leader—while also being the youngest adult male among us. He does not age as I do, and because of this, he seems to know nearly everything.
I want answers.
But I bite my tongue and let him lead me away from the death that surrounds me and toward the entrance of our underground sanctuary.
Life beneath the mountain is stifling—days and nights lit only by candlelight, the air heavy and still. The hours can sometimes drag on and on down there.
But now…
Now I am grateful for it.
It’s security and protection from a world where those four Horsemen roam free.
Only when the great metal doors seal shut behind us—thick and unyielding, locking us away from everything above—does the tightness in my chest begin to ease.
I bow my head, whispering a prayer of thanks to God for sparing me.
For sending the Grand Minister when he did.
For saving me when so many were lost this day.
Why me and not them is a question that lingers. One I don’t give voice to, but one that stays with me all the same.
Chapter One
The Chosen
Year 2224
There can be no greater sacrifice for the greater good than this, I remind myself as the last bell tolls, and I pull open the wide oak doors to the nave.
All who reside within the Order, the Children of the Blessed, should be here. Our hours of worship are mandatory. They account for a large portion of our days. And now that the hour is upon us, it is time for me to act.
To commit to my greatest duty.
Little do they know the prayers they utter now will be the last to pass their lips.
I cross the threshold and close the doors behind me. After unwinding the thick chain from around my arm, I weave it through the heavy handles and secure the padlock, sealing the entrance and barring any escape. The metal settles with a final, echoing click.
Turning, I lift my head and face the room.
Across the way, another maiden dressed in similar garb, a dark red cloak bound at the waist with black rope, does the same. A third, mirroring us, stands beside her.
I do not know their identities. The mesh masks shield our faces.
But it doesn’t matter. From this moment forward, we are no one. Nameless. Maidens of the Blessed. Our duty is to serve Him in a capacity that may not align with His design, but in time will right a great wrong. Serving our creator is something we once shared with every sister in this room. But no longer. The duty given to us by the Grand Minister now takes precedence. He has called upon us few to carry out this task and rise above our sisters.
We nod as one before reaching over our shoulders and withdrawing the twin blades from our backs. The steel sings against the sheaths with a final, hissing whisper.
The sound draws attention.
