Trust in them.
And then—A thrum. Or perhaps not. Was it real, or just the ache of sitting too long, the pull of her own desperate need to decide?
Her breath hitched and she lifted her hand, hesitated, then rapped against the wall. Once. Twice. Thrice. The sound rang hollow, definitive.
The door opened on the other side and footsteps carried the chosen one away.
Ilys’s pulse thundered, doubts gnawing her insides. Had she truly felt the Fates? Or had she convinced herself there was a difference, eager to end the silence, the waiting?
Had she chosen right?
Had she felt it?
She closed her eyes, pressing the words into her own skull like emulsion to a wall.
Trust in the Fates.
Trust in them.
Ilys stepped from the chamber, palms sweaty within her sleeves. Mother Inrith stood waiting, her unshrouded face severe, one hand resting on the shoulder of a small-framed figure.
A child.
Ilys had presumed her successor would be young, but this was too young. The girl could not have seen more than five summers. She was delicate as all children were, her small fists gripped her tunic, her dark curls unruly from nervous fidgeting, and her green eyes canny.
None of Ily's preparations or lessons equipped her for the tightening in her chest at the sight of this child. The girl swallowed, before speaking in a careful, fragile voice.
“My name is Hanna.”
Mother Inrith frowned and squeezed her hand.
“That is not your name. Not any longer. You belong to the Veil. The Fates themselves will rename you.” She gestured toward Ilys. “Come. We’ll settle the rites.”
A priestess guided Hanna to kneel before the dais, and Ilys knelt beside her, struck by the vast difference in their size. The awe festered. This was to be her successor?
“Ilys.” Mother Inrith’s voice cut sharp. “Begin the claiming rite.”
“Through shadow and silence…” Ilys paused, looking to the girl.Had she not been taught what to say? Was Ilys meant to guide her?
Hanna blinked, lips parting in confusion. Ilys lowered her voice, gentler. “Say it with me, little one. Through shadow and silence.”
“Sh—shadow and silence,” Hanna whispered, stumbling but eager to please.
Ilys squeezed her hand. “I claim you.”
“I… claim you.” Her chest tightened. She pressed on, though the words felt cruel on her tongue.
“Through blood and burden, I keep you.” The child frowned, struggling. Ilys slowed her speech, breaking the vow into pieces.
“Through blood… and burden.”
“Through blood… and bur-den.”
“I keep you.”
“I keep you.”
Their voices barely held together, Hanna’s uncertain, Ilys’s quaking beneath the veil.
