Until the shadow of the forest and the edge of the mountains come into view, quelling any joy I’d leeched from the people around me. A foreboding, similar to the one I felt when I visited the spot with Ten, seeps into my veins, but I keep my feet moving, sure and steady, not wanting to pay it any attention.
I can do this.
Everything will be better once this is over. That’s what everyone keeps telling me.
So far, I only recognise Lyle and Kyra, and I wonder if Ten and the others are waiting.
The moon—Aslendrix—is heavy in the sky, a formidable presence. Her warm light, tinged with a summer glow, showsus the way. I try to feel for some sort of tether, some sign, that the moon is, indeed, a Goddess, but there’s nothing, no magical connection.
The walk feels shorter than the journey with Ten. My apprehension is speeding things up, perhaps.
As we approach the clearing, I see the Orders waiting, and my steps falter for a second before I set them right.
I walked into the hall with my head up. Nothing has changed here.
The four heads, Rowan, and the other Custodians are all present. And the trainees.
Micah is there, his face beaming, and he smiles at me as Kyra goes to join him, and I muster one in return, grateful for his endless positivity.
But it’s Ten that I’m looking for. Ten, who I want to see and seek reassurance from. My eyes sweep over everyone until I see him, half in shadow, next to his father, in the group near the head of the stone table.
“Lyle?” I check.
She turns to me. “This is a gift, Ever. I’m sorry for so many things. And maybe one day, soon, I can explain more of my reasons to you.” I stare into her eyes, desperate for more reassurance than the weak offering.
She steps away, towards the Maker whom I hadn’t noticed until now.
The music stops, and I’m left waiting in front of the stone. The two pillars seem taller andmore ominous in the dark, snaking up into the sky.
The moonlight casts shadows that seem to dance with eager anticipation around us. My eyes look over the spot I made contact with, where that dread leeched into me, and the steady thrum of my heart picks up and jumps in my chest at the memory. At my fear. The beating races to a crescendo that hasmy fists clench so tightly that my nails dig little crescents into my palms. My own offering to Aslendrix.
“Step up, Ever. Take your place,”the Maker commands inside my mind.
I look to Lyle, who smiles and nods as if she knows the next steps I need to take. She must have done this. Everyone here has done this.
Glancing down, I step out with my boot and take the first step forward. And another until I’m climbing the footholds to the top of the stone table, with Lyle following.
Looking out, the people around grow quiet, but their anticipation builds like a thick, invisible haze over us all. The beat of my heart hasn’t slowed, and now provides a rhythmic music for me. It’s so loud.
My eyes lock onto Ten’s, as best as possible, and I wonder if he can see how frightened I am—how scared I am.
“Who stands before Aslendrix to offer their gift in return for her blessing?”
“I do. May Aslendrix continue to bless Ever Hart. May she grant her the knowledge and power to prosper and grow, giving back to Kirrasia and beyond.” I listen and wonder if this is a script that all Advocates read from.
Lyle holds her hand out to me, and I stare at her, one final look, to make sure this is the right thing, the only thing, I should be doing.
Her nod confirms it and gives me the permission I need to hold her hand, gripping it tighter than ever.
A hum of energy crackles in my palm, growing and growing, like putting your hand in a bush of nettles and feeling the light stings tickle and prick over and over again.
My eyes make a cautious glance at the sky, at the moon, as I wait for… something. But it doesn’t come.
I look back at Lyle, then at Ten. And finally, the Maker.
“Fifth.”The word slams into my mind, and it’s all I hear as the Maker speaks aloud.
And then I’m hit with a searing, all-consuming pain slicing through me. I rip my hand from Lyle and cradle my head as I fall to my knees.
