The dark alleyway dumps me out into the center of the city. The glowing sunstones around the base of the Blood Well make it a beacon in the dark. Calling it a well is not entirely accurate. It’s more of an underground river. Though it’s been expanded to accommodate thegrowing size of the city and the need for so many children to be blessed every month, the large cavern in the center of the square marks the original location of the founding of Lunameade.
Two guards are posted at the sacred site, one at the entrance ramp that spirals down to the water and one where it spirals back up to the exit.
I pull my hood higher and skirt the edge of the square as quietly as possible. The last thing I need is to be spotted by someone who knows who I am.
One of the guards takes notice, forcing me to improvise. I pause at the altar of candles in front of the founding mural. The colorful painting takes up the entire side of a bar at the edge of the square, portraying the story of the discovery of the well.
I take a long match from the cup on the right of the altar, strike it, and light one of the votives in its ornate glass jar. Then, I hold up my hands like I’m praising the Divine, and gaze at the face of my ancestor, Alistair Carren, spilling his blood in the well. I’ve heard the story so many times I could probably act it out by now.
Centuries ago, Alistair was the leader of the nomadic clan. He was the one person in the clan who was born with magic. Small as his gift seemed, his ability to see magic in the world allowed him to steer the clan clear of magical traps set by rival tribes throughout their travels. His Divine-blessed sight kept his people safe and earned him the place as their leader.
When the territory his people traveled was ravaged by wildfires, they were forced to move beyond the land they knew. They stumbled upon the Drained Wood, where they were beset by monsters and scattered through the forest. Alistair prayed to the Seven Divine, the deities the clan had worshipped for years.
That night, while his people were fast asleep, Harvain, the Divine of Fortune, answered. Alistair was woken from a dream by a golden glowing orb. He heard Harvain’s voice tell him to follow it and he would be blessed with a way to protect his people by Vardek, the Divine of Protection.
Alistair followed the glowing light through the woods until he stumbled upon a spring that pulsed with a strange blue aura.
Harvain’s voice returned and told him to cut his hand and spill hisblood into the stream and then submerge himself in it. With no better option, and afraid fear was driving him out of his mind, Alistair did as the Divine asked. As he submerged himself in the water, he felt a new power rush through him.
When he rose, a monster was waiting at the woods’ edge, and Alistair shot his magic out at the beast. Blue fire sparked from his hands, lighting the beast and turning it to ash in seconds. That holy fire allowed Alastair’s people to build a settlement and protected them while they worked.
It’s by that power that our family name morphed from Carren to Carrenwell, and is how we became the ruling family of this walled city in the middle of the Drained Wood. And it’s our ability to see magic that ensured we were prepared for any magic-blessed person we encounter, and, thus, kept us in power all these years.
Once I’m certain that I’ve performed my fake devotion to an acceptable level, I cast a glance back at the guards and rush into another alley on the east side of the square.
At the end of an alley, I pause and listen for thieves that might be waiting for an unsuspecting victim, but there’s nothing but my own breath puffing out in little white clouds, and the distant sounds of merriment from the pub around the corner.
I wonder if there’s a man in that pub sitting up a little straighter tonight, eyes a little more suspicious, hair on the back of his neck standing on edge because he worries that someone is coming for him. It’s unlikely, but I like the idea that men in this city might feel a hint of fear for once.
I was six years old the first time I killed someone. Back then, it was an accident. Unfortunately, my power doesn’t require intention to take a life. It simply came on one day at the least opportune moment, making my eagerness for my magic to show up feel foolish. I should have enjoyed childhood while I could.
As the youngest of the Carrenwells, I’d been dunked in the Blood Well at one month old and in the Family Well once a week since I was born.
The occasions during which I was allowed to interact with children who weren’t my siblings were very infrequent. But several of the womenof the high houses had brought their children to a party in my mother’s garden.
Timmy was the son of my mother’s best friend and the one boy Aidia and I knew. Naturally, when Aidia suggested we play wedding, she cast him as the groom, me as the bride, and herself as the officiant. I wore a lace table runner as a veil and walked down the grass covered in flower petals to Timmy. When Aidia lifted her hands and pronounced us married, he kissed me, and in a few gasping breaths, our make-believe happily-ever-after turned into a nightmare.
I was confused and horrified. I braced myself for a punishment that never came. Instead, my parents rejoiced in my “gift,” delighting in the way that it could help solidify our family’s reign.
His parents didn’t attack me or blame my parents. His mother cried quietly over his body and his father stood behind her with a firm hand on her shoulder. I waited for them to rage at me, but they didn’t even meet my eyes.
That was the day that I learned true power is in the silence. The threat was implicit in the power imbalance. Timmy’s parents didn’t bother to fight because they knew they wouldn’t win.
It was a good lesson for me. I couldn’t stop my tears then. Great, wracking sobs shuddered through me, but Aidia stepped up beside me and squeezed my hand. She already had her magic, and she had learned something I didn’t yet understand.
She whispered to me to not let them see me be weak and gripped my hand so tight the bones creaked. There in our family garden, holding on to my sister’s hand and standing over the body of the first boy I ever killed, I learned how to swallow my pain.
I’m not sure I’ve ever really learned how to let it go. Perhaps that’s why I’m plagued by this strange, sporadic agony.
My sister Electra used her magic to erase the memories of Timmy’s family and anyone other than my siblings who had witnessed my kiss. They let his family think he’d been taken by the Drained.
My secret died with Timmy that day, and now it dies with the abusers of Lunameade several nights a week.
I’ve turned my bad luck into other women’s good fortune. This world is plagued with men who only know how to speak with their fists, and I have made myself a monster for them.
Shaking off the thought, I tug my hood up and dash down the adjoining alley, following the path to my secret mailbox.
I pause and bring my fingers to the star pendant on my necklace. This gift from Aidia is imbued with the ability to change my appearance to whatever features I see in my mind’s eye.
