CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALENA
Just as it had with the Blood Wolf, a burst of white light exploded from her hand, and the world vanished.
Blinding brilliance consumed everything.
Images of the past surged through her, though Alena’s mind reeled, too battered by pain to catch them all.
A woman with a small girl clutching her skirts and a babe in her arms stood before a stone shelter. A man paced nearby, rocky hills behind him, the wind tugging at his cloak.
“Your father was Gifted by the South Wind,” the man said. “I thought one of our children would receive a blessing, and yet none of them bear a Mark.”
“There’s still time,” the woman protested.
The image shifted. The couple again, older.
The man, red-faced and sweating, paced with fury blazing in his eyes. The woman cradled another babe, while two girls hid under the table.
“Do you know how much the Megarian army pays for Gifted soldiers?” the man bellowed. “Marrying you was supposed to bring me fame and fortune! Instead, you’d haveme breaking my back all day in the fields and worrying about another mouth to feed!”
The woman remained calm. “The children can help you.”
“That is not the point!” He gestured at the girls. “None of them bear a Mark yet.”
Silence stretched until the woman lifted her gaze. “Then let us make a pact with the South Wind himself. There must be something we can give him.”
The world lurched. Colours swirled, then settled.
A small altar appeared—just a slab of white rock atop a hill. A dozen sheep lay dead around it, their blood soaking the grass.
The husband stood in the middle, his arms and tunic drenched in red. “If this doesn’t work, then we will truly have nothing.”
The woman’s lined face was stone. “It will work. Now go make the prayer, and be sure to describe our fields and our fields only.”
“What if it isn’t enough?”
She laid a hand on her swollen belly. “It will be.”
The image jumped again.
The woman paced before their cottage, her belly stretched tight beneath her loose tunic. Storm clouds churned over shattered hills. Mud drowned the pastures. Uprooted trees lay broken like bones.
The husband stumbled home, swaying on his feet, flushed with wine.
“What have you done?” the wife hissed.
“I did what I needed to. I had to be sure the South Wind would accept our sacrifice in case the sheep and our pasture weren’t enough.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “The South Wind didn’t destroy just ours. He destroyed all the pastures, including my brother’s fields! They’ll starve!”
“It doesn’t matter.” The husband hiccupped, a grin splitting his weathered face. “None of it matters anymore. We have a Gifted child. Megara will welcome us with open arms!”
The wife grabbed his arm, yanking him inside. “Then we need to leave. Tonight. Before the others realise what you’ve done.”
The white light was blinding. When Alena opened her eyes again, sunlight burned just as fiercely.
She stood on a beach of pristine white sand that shimmered like glass. Turquoise waves lapped gently at her feet, warm and clear. Cliffs loomed in the distance, casting jagged shadows across the shoreline.
