Page 93 of Divine Oaths

“Run, run, run,” the members chanted. “Past the swampy waters, through the fog. Run, run, run, leave no trail. Leave no blood. Sine qua non.”

Warmth rippled against my wrist, and beneath the cowrie shell bracelet and my lace glove, the mark gleamed softly.

The masked members stepped forward, toward one of the initiates in silver. The initiate glanced around, uncertain of what was next, and everyone watched, waiting.

Suddenly, the masked member yanked the initiate to the ground. Their body landed with a loud thud against the soft earth. The Sigma leaders jammed their wooden beak dangerously close to the initiate, shrieking and chanting louder and louder. The initiate dodged the first peck and then the second, but on the third, the beak stopped inches from his chest.

“You are unworthy,” the masked figure screeched. The other Sigmas joined, shrieking—all except for one of the silver-masked vultures, who watched from a distance. The Theta members gathered to watch as the Sigma crows and two of the vultures circled the initiate like the scavengers they seemed to be imitating.

“Unworthy of Westfield blood. Unworthy of the brotherhood.” They tore the clothes off the initiate’s back and drew his hands to his back and tied ropes around his wrists and ankles. Tears streaked his face, but the chanting didn’t stop. This wasn’t like the banishment ritual at Theta. It was a hazing, and it was going too far.

“There are two ways of earning a bid. The first is to break from your bonds and return to Sigma House on campus. The second is to survive here in the swamp until sunrise. Should you fulfill one of these tasks, we will reconsider and deem you worthy of the brotherhood. But if you are captured by our members between now and then, your memories will be wiped, and you shall never make a bid for Sigma again.”

The chanting continued.

Next, a masked member of Theta turned to the initiates. Again, they began to screech, giving the same instructions but for Theta initiates: Either spend the night in the swamp or return to Theta House before the night ended without getting captured.

They were taking turns. Weeding us out. And the song was our final dirge.

All of the initiates seemed to understand in that moment, each among us deciding which of the two paths we’d take for our bid: hide in the swamp and avoid capture or risk getting caught while trying to return to their Greek houses on campus.

It was like a stampede, a scene from a chilling nightmare. Initiates pushed and manhandled one another as they tore through the night, racing blindly through the swamp, all in a desperate attempt to escape capture.

“Move,” someone shouted as they shoved me aside. I landed in a thicket of bushes, gasping as the branches tore my skin. Behind me, one of the veiled Theta members approached. Gold rope hung from her hand, and she was chanting the same song as the others.

Suddenly, a hand yanked me from the bush. I looked up to find Vivian had returned.

“This way,” she said, helping me stand and leading me away from the Theta member who’d begun to hasten her steps, faster and faster, her chant spilling through the darkness, looming like an omen of what was to come as she and the others began their hunt.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The ripest fruit first falls

I STUMBLED THROUGH THE DARKNESS, my footsteps pounding over the soft ground as Vivian and I searched for safety.

Everything was a blur of trees and moss, bushes and branches as we charged ahead. Vivian led the way. The earth and roots and leaves wilted in her path, only to spring back to life behind us, obstructing our trail for the Theta member pursuing us.

“We’re nearly at the shed,” Vivian whispered, pointing ahead.

All I saw were trees and undergrowth, the shed much too far, so we found shelter near a tree. I crawled beneath its low-hanging branches and used a bush to hide, while Vivian rested her hand against the tree’s trunk. As she did, the trunk began to age, just like how the foliage had wilted in her path.

“My powers are stronger here, closer to where I died. Not so much on campus, but a girl can dream.”

“Should we try for Theta House? Or should we spend the night here?” I said, trying to measure the distance between the shed and our hiding spot.

“You can’t be serious,” Vivian said. “This is all a game to them. Most of them don’t even know the history of the rituals they’re imitating. They just do it because it’s Westfield tradition. Their so-called heritage. If only they knew what spirits they called upon for their rituals. Their ignorance is their violence, and again and again, we become victim to it.”

“I’m not changing my mind,” I said, defiant. “I don’t want this, but if there’s a way—”

“You can’t break the curse,” Vivian hissed, cutting me off. “It’s too difficult. The Ԑnhye and Theta have attempted it for years, and if we had figured it out, I wouldn’t have drowned trying to save my poor Melvin.”

“Melvin,” I whispered. “As in, Kasem’s ancestor?”

Vivian nodded. “I was already a member of Ԑnhye, but when Melvin decided to rush Sigma to see if their society had any information to help him break the curse, I left the sisterhood and rushed Theta instead. We both died in the process. I took your gloves from you, hoping you would realize that suffering through your powers here at Westfield wouldn’t be worth the pain. And certainly not for a man, not even two of them. So go home now, Sianna. Leave Westfield before another accident makes you its victim.”

“You had no right to do that,” I said. “Vivian, do you know how much torture it’s been, seeing visions everywhere? Having to force myself to be in the present because everything I touched was tearing me away from reality?”

“I know,” Vivian said. “I realize that now, and I’m sorry. But I don’t want you to end up like me. Dead because you sacrificed everything, including yourself, over love. I thought you’d give up and leave.”