My nightly compulsions get more violent. Fire consumes me. My actions are somehow driven by a force greater than myself.
I wake up banging the heels of my palms against the rock-hard plaster wall or raking my fingernails over my arms and legs. My hands are bruised the next day. Raw red gashes are carved into my flesh.
I’m thankful that it’s winter and I can cover up my self-inflicted shame with long layers.
I wake up beating my fists so hard against the crown of my head that I’m tender for days afterward. I wake up smackingthe back of my skull against the wall to the extent the plaster is cracked when I look.
Every night I pray that it won’t happen again. Every morning I examine a new injury and cry, hoping it’s the last. There's no explanation; I can’t seem to control or prevent it.
It feels like the monster lying in wait behind my rib cage is becoming manifest. As ifpoisonis consuming me—a venom of my own making. I fear the beast is provoking me to destroy it, but I only ever injuremyselfin the process.
Chapter 21
Itissa
On the fifth day of Stormdrift, Lady Maida opens the day’s lesson with the following question: “Can any of you tell me what a changeling is?”
Perplexed, Sadrie, Cordelia, and I look at each other.
“Flip to the first page of your purple workbook,” says Elodie from her spot at the front side wall. Arms crossed, she leans against it while we read in silence.
It is whispered among the workmen and commonfolk that Eisha, in her caprice, is given to snatching the humanity from certain children in the night. In place of their humanity, the goddess sees fit to bestow upon these babes strange, inexplicable powers in trade. They lie dormant until the first day of the eighteenth year, whereafter those who possess them may influence and control that most confounding stuff we have come to know as life-force. Preternaturally cursed or gifted, those of such ilk are called ‘changelings,’ and they are beheld with fear and suspicion. This great temple has been erected to shelter these changelings so that they should have a home in this dark world.
~ Sister Agressyna, The Temple of Eisha, as recorded in this Blessed Year of Aodh, 61 a.a.
“Does this meanwe’rechangelings?” asks Sadrie.
“That’s right,” says Maida. “Now, do any of you know why we wear so much jewelry?”
“Because it’s pretty?” Sadrie pipes up again. A glance in her direction confirms she’s teasing.
I wish I had the energy to laugh. If Ghisele were here, she’d no doubt be rolling her eyes.
“Good try, but no.” Maida pauses for more impulsive answers. When none come, she says, “It’s not just jewelry. They are tools calledtokens. The metal they’re fashioned from is called Signet Silver. That is, silver that’s been alchemically enhanced, or ‘Altered,’ to intensify the abilities you’re alreadyinclined toward as acolytes. Or, as Sister Agressyna put it, the ‘inexplicable powers’ Eisha ‘bestowed’ upon you.”
Excitement ripples between us.
“You’ll have the opportunity to earn tokens of your own with satisfactory exam scores. Your first exam will take place in exactly one week—and yes,” Maida regards us sternly, “today’s lecture will most certainly be on it.”
I drag my notepad out of my satchel.
“Once you start wearing tokens, you may notice strange effects. Then again, some of you might already be receiving subtle signs that your First Sight is awakening.” Her gray eyes flick to Cordelia.
My friend is bent over her desk, labeling her notes in her tidy penmanship.
“Cordelia?” calls Maida. “Could you please inform your classmates what I’m referring to when I say First Sight?”
“The ability to detect the auras of those around you.”
“Well done,” says Maida. “If you all would kindly flip to page nineteen and take a moment to peruse.”
The top of the page provides a definition:
First Sight:The ability to see auras, i.e., the visual detection of life-force that extends beyond the body’s confines. Although some acolytes can detect auras with no assistance, most will require the help of Altered items and/or instruction in particular meditations.
I fish out my fountain pen and begin taking notes as Maida draws on her beloved blackboard, rendering the outline of a person.
While she scribbles away, she leads a metaphysical, almost mystical-leaning conversation about our relationship to the exchange of energy all around us. Sunlight, flowing water, blowing wind, crackling fire, and electricity (where applicable). Rain and thunder and lightning. The growing of plants and the nourishment they provide. The nourishment gleaned from consuming other living beings.
