“It’s the root,” he says after a moment. “It makes me nauseous.”
A few minutes of silence pass.
“Here,” he says finally. Reaching forward, he pulls a dagger from his waist and slices through the canvas until there is a gap big enough to look through. “I should have thought—if you wanted to see.”
I was right in my guess as to our location. As I look out, we approach the large, wide stone bridge that leads to the temple, having already passed through—or maybe around—the town. When I tilt my head, the temple comes into sight up ahead. For a moment—just for a moment—my heart soars in my chest.
Home, it seems to sing.Welcome home.
All thoughts flee my mind as I stare at it until it blurs.
The sight still has the power to take my breath away, to remind me of my own insignificance as the cart carries us over the river. I glance down to where the edge of the cobbled bridge meets the water. The river below that was once greedy and thriving seemsno less so now. Water surges along, and my eyes follow it into the distance.
“The Falls,” Callan says quietly. “They’re the only way we can collect fresh water, but they get smaller every year.”
They do not feel small. In the distance, a storming, thundering rush of water tumbles from nowhere, falling through the sky toward the ground like a storm, ready to devour everything in its path. It looks endless—and yet it is not enough.
Nothing is ever enough for the Caelumnai. That’s what drew them here in the first place, to my home, to Asteria, where they swept through to leave only death and destruction in their wake instead of claiming sanctuary we would gladly have provided.
The walls that stretch around the temple, enclosing it, look the same. Pristine and shimmering as if with the light of the moon, the adralite jutting proudly from the ground.
A gift from Hala. Now protecting my enemy.
Behind those walls, the layout spreads out in my mind like a map. The thirteen levels that make up the main building. Four of them sit beneath the ground, a space where even Hala’s faeytes feared to tread.
None of us like being under the ground.
But the upper levels are visible as we get closer. More adralite rises up, almost touching the sky as I crane my head. Beyond the wall, I can just catch sight of the pillars—eight of them, four on either side of the wooden temple doors. They stand straight and tall, propping up a balcony I spent my childhood exploring, laying on, dreaming on, whilst the adults were inside or at Sanctum.
But I never felt alone. I would talk to Hala, pretending I was just as close to my goddess as my sisters, who checked on me with a mixture of indulgent smiles and scolding fingers, depending on if I had escaped my lessons early and with permission.
I wonder who walks along that balcony now.
At the top of it all, at the highest point of the temple, is the Sanctum. A space for us to worship, to mourn, to gather, as close to the sky as possible.
Closer to Hala. Not that I ever had the chance to experience it.
Directly ahead, the gates set into the external wall are closed.
They were never closed before. We never closed these gates or the main doors, never turned anyone away who needed us. We opened up our home to whoever needed it, using the vast amount of space gifted us for healing, for tutoring, for helping. Perhaps that’s why they escaped the Shift unscathed. They would have been open on that day, open for the Caelumnai army to sweep through and devour anything and anyone in its path.
But they’re closed now. The shimmering glass twists and curls into the sky, endless lengths resembling the twisted branches of a tree entwining together. My gaze follows them up.
I stop breathing. “What’s that? Up there? Hanging from the gate?”
At the sharpness in my tone, Callan sits upright. He glances out, seeing where we are. And his skin leeches, his tone lightening beneath the gold to an ashen pallor. “Gods. I should have warned you.”
Stabbing pain pulses in my chest. My anger builds. “This isn’t something you shouldforget.”
Even from here, the robes give her away. Fluttering in the wind are rags of silver that drape over the sharpest spikes.
Not hanging, but…impaled.
I retch. Nausea climbs up my throat in an abrupt rush, gathering at the back of my mouth in a searing burn that makes me double over, gripping my stomach.
She will not decay. Faeytes do not return to the earth, but to the sky. Without the final rites, she will remain in Hala’s image until she is returned to Ellas. On display, ignored by theCaelumnai who walk beneath without bothering to look up in brutal dismissal.
“Let me out.” I stand, almost stumbling, and reach for the exit. The cart jolts beneath my feet, nearly sending me tumbling to the side. When Callan grabs for me, I push him away. “I need to see.”
