“Long ago, the goddess of light, and life, and all that is good in this world, Yargen, sealed away an evil god, Raspian. She cast his tomb out to sea and guarded it with her very essence. You know this tomb as the Crystal Caverns. When they were destroyed, his evil returned to the world. The Night-Noon Day twenty-four years ago signified his return.”
Eira had heard the sailors in Oparium talking about a day when the sun was blotted from the sky. Was that the Night-Noon Day? It was mysterious, certainly. But nothing bad—as far as everyone Eira had spoken to was aware—had happened.
“It was shortly after that wretched day that my standing, my purpose, was stripped from me by Queen Lumeria—”
“Bring down the queen with the evil heart. Topple the corrupt government that spreads Raspian’s evil,” the Pillars intoned at the mere mention of Lumeria. There were trigger words that seemed to prompt replies. Perhaps this whole meeting was scripted, and every new recruit heard the same speech. It was slightly less terrifying when she thought of it more like a performance than being surrounded by madmen.
“—Raspian sank his claws into the land of Meru and its people. The Flame of Yargen was extinguished and without its guiding light, the citizenry turns from Yargen. Their leaders look to make deals with those born on the land of Raspian’s tomb. Even the Voice has been corrupted.”
“There is only one true Voice, Chosen of Yargen, Champion of Yargen.”
Eira barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the chanting this time.
“But we work tirelessly in secret, Eira. To shun Raspian and his ways. To bring about a new age where her holy fire burns once more and all know of Yargen’s glory—where all respect, revere, andfear her.”
And, fear you, too, as her Champion, right?Eira wanted to say. Instead she inhaled slowly and summoned the helplessness and turmoil she had felt as Marcus was pulled deeper and deeper. Fear and reverence, those were the emotions she wanted to invoke with the arch of her brows, the parting of her lips, and the widening of her eyes—make it look just like she’d practiced in the mirror.
“I fear and revere her,” Eira whispered.
“Respect, revere, fear.” They all chanted in reply toherthis time. The sound felt like she was sinking into the embrace of some thick, cold, slimy substance. This wasn’t like the pure waters of her powers, or the dark waters that churned from Marcus’s death. This whole place was tainted. Rotted. Festering.
“Good.” The Champion clapped his hands together. “If you truly fear and revere, then you will also seek to serve. To be made worthy in her eyes. For as you are now, kneeling in the dirt, you are undeserving of her soon-to-be-rekindled light.”
Eira’s gaze drifted to Ferro, finding him staring down at her. He wore a small smile on his face—like the look of someone gazing at a beloved dog, or prized hog. Ferro looked back to the man and his expression shifted to pure admiration. He really believed every word of this, they all did.
The sickening sense of dread only grew.
Zealots couldn’t be reasoned with because they didn’t want reason. They wanted blind faith. It was their way, their faction, or nothing. Everything that disagreed or opposed them would be cast on the “holy” fires burning behind the man they saw as their savior. They looked at him as if he were a god made flesh.
“Do you wish to be made worthy?” The Champion leaned forward as Eira’s attention returned to him.
She wished to go back to Risen and lie in the comfortable safety of the manor. She had been missing now for two or three days, hadn’t she? Surely they’d sent out search parties? But she wasn’t in Risen any longer. She couldn’t count on anyone finding her. And some part of her hoped they didn’t go looking. She had put herself in this mess and didn’t want anyone else risking their life for her stupid mistakes.
She could only count on herself.
“I do.” Her safety was guaranteed as long as they thought she was sincere.Keep playing along, Eira, keep the fear and reverence on your face like your life depends on it—because it likely does.
“Good.” A wicked smile curled the Champion’s lips and he looked far closer to the evil god he’d described than the serene and kind goddess that stretched over his throne. “To prove you are worthy of the light, you must first yearn for it.”
“What?” Eira breathed, but no one heard.
“Take her to the pit.”
14
“Where are we going?” Eira dared to whisper to Ferro as they walked away from the throne room. She was blindfolded once more and too frantic to think about counting her steps or their turns. The events that transpired with the Champion had erased her mental record of their path from earlier anyway. Another one for the list of reasons why she was a terrible shadow.
“Don’t worry.” Ferro patted her forearm. Their elbows were linked. “Everyone must endure the pit. It is the test to become one of us.”
“What is the pit?” She didn’t know if she wanted the answer.
“You’ll find out soon.”
They descended two staircases and then a third that seemingly didn’t end. Eira heard the clanking of metal and a heavy door swinging open. She walked with Ferro, feeling the breath of nearby people chanting softly as she passed. It sounded like prayers for strength and protection.
Eira hoped someone above was listening. She could use some strength.
“Stay here, and when I tell you, you may take off your blindfold.”
