The air changes—thick, expectant.
The face of the mother shrinks smaller and smaller, as Yara carries her through a narrow passage to an altar cut from obsidian.A silver crescent gleams above it, faint light pulsing.
She lays the infant on the stone, wraps a black cloth around her tiny chest, and begins to chant.The words are older than language; each syllable tasting of ash and lavender.
The shadows stir, gathering like breath drawn in.A wind that has no source curls through the room, tugging at Yara’s hair, rustling the herbs above.The blue flame in the lamp bends low and dies.
From the darkness, a shape made from smoke steps forward—a woman made of woven night and starfire.Her eyes are eclipses ringed in violet.When she speaks, the sound is both thunder and a lullaby.
“Step into the night, my child.”The woman murmurs.“For you are mine.”
She touches the infant's heart.Violet and gold light spirals into the tiny ribs.The baby exhales—a sound like a sigh crossing centuries.
“Sleep, my daughter,” the woman murmurs.“When the Light forgets itself,” she whispers.“You will wake.”
She turns to the shadows who peer over the stone, like a mother admiring a newborn.The shadows intertwine in her long, slender, smoke-like fingers.
“Take good care of her.She is the future of our people, and there will be a time when we need her most.”
She turns to Yara and nods.
Yara places her hand through the goddess’ smoky chest, and the other over the child’s heart.
Chanting fills the room once more, as the goddess fades in a plume of black smoke.The child’s gaze tracks the path of the smoke entering into her heart, as a ring of violet flares within her eyes.Gone as quickly as it arrived.Nothing but the hum of power and the scent of lavender fills the room.
Yara swaddles the child back in the black cloth, and walks her out toward the mother waiting at the end of the tunnel.
Tears well in her sunken eyes as she accepts the child.
Her fingers tremble in the metalwork as Yara hands her the black onyx ring.
“This will feed on your life,” Yara says quietly.“You must wear it to complete the sacrifice.”
The woman nods, tears streaking her face as she looks at the innocent face of her child staring back at her.
“The Divine Mother thanks you for your offering.Only time will tell if it was a success.”
* * *
“Seren?”Kael shakes my arm.The memory clears like smoke from the pyres.I stumble, my tongue too thick to speak.
“What did you see?”He steps closer, his finger guiding my chin toward him.His eyes are laced with pointed concern.Warmth spreads at the point of contact.
This all feels too much.
I back away, staring at the ring now glued to my finger and the cost that came with it.The sacrifice.
My eyes squeeze shut as I fight my way through the red veins of the map, until I land on the scene of the mother cradling her child, and the lullaby she attempts to sing.The gnawing pit in my chest widens; a black hole sucking in the despair from the kneeling mother.
My mother.
She gave up her life forme?
The need for air becomes an ache—a crushing weight pinning my chest.I drop to my knees.
“Breathe Seren!Talk to me!”Kael’s boots slap through the ankle-deep water.Arms envelop me, pinning me with a warmth that fights the coldness within.
“It’s okay…breathe,” he mutters into my hair.“I’ve got you.”
