Wind slanted through the broken windows, and Théo shivered. He looked at his cloak, abandoned on the ruined floor. The crisp white fabric was stained with dirt and blood.
The breeze shifted, and the church bells clanged a discordant melody.
Théo tracked the ivy strewn walls until he found them, swinging high above in the belfry. A set of creaking wooden stairs beckoned ominously.
“Are you there? Lunanya, Soliana, Stellány? Can you hear me?” Théo sounded so heartbreakingly hopeful.
“There is only you and me… There are no Goddesses here,” I muttered, rising on unsteady legs. But he could not hear me, and he would not have believed me if he could.
The bells rang again, clearer this time, and Théo leapt for the staircase.
I followed, though I feared I should not. When that feeling came again, the tugging in my middle—the pressure on my soul—IwishedI had not.
“Please, not again,” I groaned. My head pounded to an aching drum.
But I was already gone.
When you hear the ringing of the bell, deliver their souls to us. Do not let me down, Théo.
Théo thought fighting for Acsilla meant healing their nation. He thought it meant honor. But the queen had died, and the king craved violence.
“Deliver their souls to me,” he said, and Théo did.
He summoned a slaughter.
Ordelésan blood painted the ground red.
The threads of life were vibrant, souls swelling with radiant light. He imagined what it would be like to strengthen them, to watch them glow. He plucked them like flowers from the rotting earth.
“Fuck…” I whined, pressing hard against the well of my eyes. Pain shot through them, sharp and bright. His memories crowded my mind, weighing down my head with every wobbling step.
I collapsed to the floor, sweating and shaking and numb. I wished the rubble would pierce my skin—draw blood—if only to ground me to my own body, but it was not real.
“It isnotreal,” I reminded myself through every panting breath.
The belfry welcomed us with empty amusement. The bells no longer chimed. They swung, silent and judging before us.
Théo leaned through the louvered windows and looked to the stars. He squeezed his eyes shut then forced them wide open. “Please… I know I am a betrayer of my heritage and my destiny. I have stolen the lives of your children, but I am here praying for mercy nonetheless.”
“They won’t answer,” I told him. “I know that better than anyone.”
I was no better than him—a betrayer ofmyheritage allthe same.
My fellow Guardians in Ordelés would not have forgiven me for this weakness, this desire to pray to the heathen Goddesses, so I had cut it from my flesh—torn it from my heart.
Tears slipped hot over his cheeks. They fell to the altar far below. A salt sacrifice.
I felt their names on his lips. “Soliana. Lunanya. Stellány. Guide my path. Help me break the bonds of a cruel ruler. Help me bring peace to Szrestia. Goddesses, please… I was only a child. I was achild,but I can’t blame my youth anymore. I need to make a better choice.Help memake a better choice.”
Théo repeated the words, spilled them out into the night sky. He willed them to the heavens above, but no answer could be heard save for cricket song and the steady pound of his own heart.
“They will never answer,” I resigned, the dream fading into star-spotted mist around me.
Chapter seven
Seren
Though my eyelids drooped with bone deep exhaustion, and my head pounded with the weight of some forgotten dream, I knew there would be no time for rest. I pushed my way through the early morning routines of my fellow Second Order Guardians as they hustled for the latrines, polished their armor, and clambered out of the dormitory to break their fast.
