“I trust our Radiant Mother. Our devotion to Her holy war will see us a victory this very year. Shout now your praise for our divine creator!”
All around us, affirmations rang out.
Yet my lips didn’t move except to curl back from my teeth.
Fury flashed through the Korona’s expression before she smoothed it away. “Shout now your praise for our most blessed Seer, Sylaira of House Räviel.”
More voices cut through the midday air. But I didn’t acknowledge a single one.
For one wild moment, I thought about snatching the torches from the acolytes and flinging them intoIaoth’s face. Stadiel’s dark gaze settled over me, like he was weighing my worth. Like he was deciding what he’d do with me should Vaeron somehow win the trial by light.
The Koron and Korona approached their seats, sweeping out their silver-threaded capes before settling into them.
Once a hush fell over the gathered, the High Priestess began the funerary rites. It should have been an honor to have such a holy figure sending my best friend off into the next world. I should have been humbled by it.
But I couldn’t even concentrate on what she said.
Her words blurred by me, my world tunneling in on Heraphia. How her hair shimmered even through mist. How her fingers were so still, never to paint again.
Oils splashed over Heraphia’s skin. Herbal smoke scented the air around us. A drum beat, the steady thrum, thrum, thrum doing nothing to calm me.
Instead, it sharpened my resolve.
Over the past few months, my entire world had been turned upside down. I’d lost my identity weeks ago.
And Heraphia’s death?
I feared it had remade what was broken.
Because the female who wanted to protect without violence, who wanted freedom, who sought a peaceful resolution at every turn?
She was gone.
She died the moment Heraphia did.
My body was far too small to contain the magnitude of the storm brewing in my marrow.
The second priestess centered herself on the pyre, drawing my attention. She opened her arms wide, sweeping them toward the sky. At that moment, the sun broke through the clouds and canopy, shining a single beam over her and Heraphia like she had called the Goddess herself to do so.
With her head tipped toward it, the priestess spoke.
“Radiant Mother, light of the first dawn, creator of our blessed lives, hear my prayer. Gather Your child into your gentle embrace. Let her rest where no sword sings in the air. Purify her with flame, that she may find peace in her future. Let her spirit move blissfully into a new world without war.”
Peace. That was all she’d ever wanted. A quiet life with Zuriel. Not to wake screaming in the night from a vision of death and destruction.
A sob lodged in my throat. Hurriedly, I swiped at my eyes. Vaeron wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, shielding me from those who might think me helpless because of my emotion.
“Let us pray as one.” With that, the priestess closed her arms and hooked her thumbs together over her heart. The rest of us did the same, bowing our heads. While making a fluttering motion, she spoke her final words.
“So too burn away our hatred this day, Goddess, as Heraphia would have wished. May Your light fall upon each of Your children, enlightening them to Your true holy path.”
“Goddess save us all,” the gathered murmured in unison.
When we straightened, the High Priestess gestured for me to rise. Vaeron did with me, and together, we approached the white-robed female. An acolyte stepped forward, a torch in hand.
“Since she was your friend, you will light the pyre,” Vaeron explained, passing the flame along.
I nodded, turning away from him and facing Heraphia one last time.
