CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Why the hell did you do that?” I hiss at Ezzy, the words scraping out because my throat has gone completely dry.
Beside me, her mouth hangs open and her wide eyes jump between the purple vessel and me, like she can’t quite believe what she’s done either.
“I, uh… I—” she stutters but a sharp rattle cuts her off, and both our heads jerk toward the centre of the circle where the old dragon Shaman stands with her instrument lifted, shaking it toward us.
Shit. No talking.
Reaching over, I take the vessel from Ezzy’s hands. This time her fingers loosen without any fight, and she lets go easily. I go to hand it to the recruit beside me, only to pull it straight back when I realise I haven’t even drunk from it yet.
Fuck.
Before I can think better of it, I lift the vessel and swallow a much larger gulp than needed.
Bitterness floods my mouth, and my face screws up as I force it down. Lumps of leaves drag over my tongue and clinging between my teeth. It tastes like dirt and there is an unnatural tingling sensation that stays there long after I swallow.
Damn, this stuff's bad. How the hell did everyone else keep their faces so blank?
Shoving the vessel into the next recruit’s hands, I wipe my mouth as he passes it on without drinking. The person after him does the same. And the next.
The strange hollowed-out fruit keeps moving from hand to hand, untouched, and with every silent pass my gut clenches harder. Fear and anticipation twist together until I can’t tell them apart, and by the time it reaches Magda again I can barely breathe.
“For those of you who did not drink, you are now asked to leave.” She announces as she stands and looks over us. “Those of you who drank, please remain seated and silent.”
Around us, the majority of the circle begins to move, people pushing up from the stones and making their way out of the clearing in silence, heading back down the mountain one by one. Each of them glances at us before they leave, like they can’t decide whether we’re incredibly brave or complete and utter fools.
I turn toward Ezzy and Neeve. Ezzy’s blue eyes are still wide and glassy, fixed on the Shaman in the centre, and I’m not sure she’s blinked once since she drank. Beside her, Neeve tilts her head, peering through the bodies moving in front of us until her gaze catches on Darren.
“I love you,”he mouths, as Lucien puts a hand on his shoulder and starts leading him away.
“I’ll see you later.”Neeve mouths back.
Rubbing at the sting that’s growing behind my sternum, I can’t help but wish Talen would show up right about now.
Not to stop this, or tell me not to do it, just so I could see him for a second, catch one glimpse of that smile before this juice kicks in.
Then the crowd shifts, and Darren’s gone, swallowed by the line of people making their way down the mountain and the clearing falls quiet around us as suddenly there are only seven of us left. Magda and the old overdressed, colourful Shaman stand in the centre, while the rest of us remain seated in the circle: Lee and his friend, then Neeve, Ezzy, and me.
“I first want to commend you all for entering.” Magda looks at each of us, her shadow stretching long across the grass beneath the blazing sun. “What is about to unfold over the next eight or nine hours will reveal things about you that you never knew, and things you may wish you never had to know.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, but my mouth’s gone so dry again it sticks.
“Over the next few hours, the compounds in the Vega fruit will open your Threads,” she continues, “showing not only your past but also the futures that may be waiting for you. The dragons will see them too. They will be watching from afar. Weighing. Deciding. And when the Blood Moon rises,ifthere is a dragon among them compatible with your Threads—a rare thing in itself—and if they deem you morally worthy, they may choose to bond.”
Pacing inside the ring of stones, she lets the words settle before moving on.
“However, if you do not bond, the dragons will release your Threads back into the earth through fire, so that they may return to the cycle of life and, one day, perhaps, re-emerge in another form to attempt to bond again.”
Well, it’s a nicer way of saying they’ll burn us alive, but still, my palms start to sweat.
“For those of you who are fortunate enough to bond when the moon turns red,” Magda adds, “you will still need to wait until it fully seals. This can take up to twenty-four hours, and during that fragile time, the dragon may still change their mind, tearing their Threads from yours in a process that most people do not survive."
Neeve already told me all this. I knew the risk before I climbed the mountain, before I chose to stay, before I drank from that vessel. Still, hearing Magda say it out loud, in that steady, ceremonial voice, strips away the last thin layer of distance between me and what happens if Ahria doesn’t come.
The urge to run hits so hard my hands curl against my thighs, ready to push me up and out of here, but I force them steady. I can do this. Idothings like this.Mumwould have done hard things like this.
“Get as comfortable as possible.” Magda steps back and gives a small nod to the Shaman, who shuffles forward and begins lighting a fire in the centre, shaking her instrument every few breaths while a low, unsettling hum gathers in her throat. “The ceremony itself is brief, but it willnotbe easy to endure.”
