“Not sure,” he answered. “I think I remember hearing once that it was only ever two or three a year. At most, four.”
“Look around,” I whispered.
He did, and I watched as his brows furrowed, then raised as he counted his fellow doomed.
“So many,” he hissed back. “And all so…young. Like me.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t get a chance to speak.
“From the Geist, all things are given, and to the Geist, all must be returned.”
In the quiet of the morose gathering, the man’s voice boomed and reverberated off of the stone walls.
People toward the back stepped aside to admit a small processional of three elders in long ornate robes. The first man’s were red with the sigil of a colossal beast covered in fur with a short snout and claws; House Lynx. Behind him, standing side by side, was a middle-aged man of dark skin in a green robe with the sigil of the long, slithering reptile of House Viper, and a woman with gray hair and a wrinkled smile in blue who bore the sigil of the feathered creature with wings and a beak from House Avus. It was the elder in the crimson robes who’d spoken.
“My people,” he greeted once he’d reached the archway and turned to face us with a demoralizing smile, his hands raised. Darius scoffed and I couldn’t help but echo the sentiment. “We are gathered here today on this most joyous occasion—”
Darius glanced sideways to stare at me in disbelief. I merely shrugged.
“—to fulfill the wishes of the Geist, as we have for millennia. As in the Trials, we become one with the Geist, so in the Culling, we honorably go forth to serve them.”
“Who is this guy?” Darius murmured but gasps around us caught our attention.
An inky black hole appeared just below the number twelve in the archway. It swirled and churned, growing bigger until it filled the entire arch. I squinted into the mass, hoping to see a hint of what was beyond but, the more I stared into that unending darkness, the deeper it seemed to become. The whispers increased both in volume and intensity, and some of the Deckers clung to their friends and family.
A man stepped forward. No, not a man—a boy. He was maybe seventeen. Tall and robust, he walked with an air of superiority despite his young age. His clothes were finer than anything I’d seen before, an intricate design of golden webs woven into a soft, red velvet. He approached the trinity of priests and knelt before them, placing an elbow on his knee and lowering his head piously.
“I am Nicholas of House Lynx,” he spoke plainly, stoically. I frowned. Why would he bother to introduce himself just to disappear forever in a moment? “I pray to Blessed Harlowe for perpetual fortitude and an inquisitive mind. I am proud to serve the Geist.”
He rose again and, without looking back, walked straight into the swirling black mass.
A few of the Deckers gasped. I took an involuntary step back. Darius muttered a curse.
Nicholas was gone. As simple as that.
Shock still held my heart captive as another First Ringer came forward, this one a girl.
“I am Fari of House Lynx,” she announced. Had she and Nicholas known each other? Had they grown up running through the halls of their ancestral estate, giggling across the table at family dinners, trading knowing glances and conspiratorial grins? “I pray to Blessed Alosia for cunning and inner peace. I am proud to serve the Geist.”
Just as Nicholas had done, Fari followed her speech with walking straight into the gathering darkness and was no more.
Chaos broke out. As another First Ringer stepped forward automatically, behind me, one of the Deckers let out a wail of terror and bolted.
“Child—” the priestess with the blue robes shouted but she was too late.
From the top of the swirling black mass, between the one and the two of the twelve, a dark tendril curled slowly outward. It stretched maliciously into the air in front of us.
We all stood perfectly still, gaping in horror at that seeking smoke.
Behind us, an acolyte in a brilliant white robe stepped forward and grabbed the fleeing Decker by the shoulders. He spun the boy around to face the oncoming darkness. The Decker didn’t even have time to scream. The coil of darkness touched him and he simply disintegrated. A few others shrieked as the tendril disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a smoking pile of white dust that looked suspiciously like bone.
Darius met my gaze, blinking rapidly.
That settled it. He’d been right. There was no getting out of the Culling.
My hands began to shake.
As the panic faded into resigned fear, the First Ringers continued to step forward, say their names, their useless prayers, and step into that swirling black mass while the rest watched on in horrified silence.
