Page 5 of She Who Was Severed

They whisper. They don’t look at me anymore. They look at each other. One makes a warding sign in the air. Another stumbles back like distance will fix it.

They unbind me with shaking hands.

I don’t move.

I can’t.

But I’m breathing.

They didn’t expect that.

They leave. All but one.

A priestess in dusk robes. No insignia. No gold. Just gray and shadow. She kneels beside me. Doesn’t speak.

She puts a hand on my forehead, and for the first time since I touched the altar, someone touches me like I might still be human.

“You lived,” she says.

I laugh. Just once. Hoarse and hollow.

“Unfortunately.”

She studies me for a long moment. Her eyes are strange. Pale. Not afraid. Not kind. Just knowing.

“You felt it, didn’t you? The thing that watched.”

I want to ask what she means. But I’m so tired of asking. So I just nod.

She places something in my palm. A glass bead. Dark. Heavy. Too warm.

“If you survive the next three days,” she says, “find the vault below the ash tower. Break the floor. Don’t wait for permission.”

Then she stands. Fades into the dark.

I sit there a long time.

Breathing.

Burning.

Becoming.

Above me, the world continues without interruption. Another Bonding. Another beast chosen. Another Severing prepared.

They’ll say I’m one of the lucky few. That I was cleansed.

They won’t say something watched them fail.

They won’t say it wanted me empty.

But I will.

Let them pray.

I’m still here.

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