“It chooses everything.”
Something feels so disconnected.
“But aren’t…” I scratch my shoulder and quietly stammer, “aren’t some Ringborn… rapists? How can the Ring choose w-wrong?”
Her tone turns dark. “It doesn’t choose wrong.”
Okay. It doesn’t choose wrong. It doesn’t choose wrong. I must remind myself that it makes the right choice.
“I—Okay, I have only one last question. Why aren’t all Ringborn equal? Why do some Ringborn have more capacity for consorts? It seems so unconnected to their morality.”
“All the first Ringborn were equal, but the Ring couldn’t blindly let its gift fill the blood of their children. Everyone has some Ringborn ancestors, even you. If its gift didn’t degenerate, then it would just be overexploited once again.”
“And there’s never any new Ringborn?”
“The Great Ring created as many as it knew it would ever need.”
My skin chills before feeling numb. My eyesight gathers into a haze.
For the smallest of moments, I believed I could access the Ring. It was some necromancy adjacent delusion, brought about from my own anxiety and the dead land we walked on. It felt like such a real offer though: blood for the Ring, and the Ring would love me. I could feel chosen.
“Catarina?” The matron’s voice drags me back to where I am. “Are you searching for reasons to doubt? Why do you ask questions that put the Ring into suspicion so harshly?”
“Doubt? I would never! I love the Ring.” I shudder. “Mistress Vincenza had a wife, right? Nascia?”
The matron frowns. “Yes. She was an amazing member of the community. She spoke at sermons here and kept Vincenza returning.”
“I just don’t get why the Ring chose for her to die when Mistress Vincenza made the exact same mistake.”
“...Maybe the Ring knew that Vincenza would correct her mistake. The Great Ring hates our mistakes, but it loves us too much to blindly punish us.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “I want you, when you leave, to take a minute to sit down and look at the sky. You can turn your gaze, search the world around you. You’ll find that it’s beautiful. You’ll see so many other people enjoying it. It’s easy for us to attribute our sorrows to the Ring and selfishly claim the good as our own, but the Ring provided us everything you enjoy. It must work with who we are, and we will suffer—for we are imperfect—but it works tirelessly for your happiness. Think about how much she has improved your life, and try to come up with another way for you to have that happiness. You won’t. Only the Great Ring could make such brilliant plans.”
It feels so cruel to celebrate how happy a nice woman’s death is making everyone, but that feeling doesn’t make her wrong. She can’t be wrong. My faith in the Great Ring demands faith in her.
Inhale. Exhale. “Sometimes it feels like the Ring’s guiding me to a choice. Should I listen to it?”
“Always.”
That’s not even close to enough for me to understand.
“Catarina, whatever you do, whatever you pursue, it’s exactly what the Great Ring wanted from you. You don’t need to be afraid that you will betray it. It made you knowing the choices you would make, and it was happy with those choices. Don’t doubt yourself.”
That… I can work with.
“Thank you, Matron Hortensa. I’ll pray over everything you said.”
“You’re smiling.” And she smiles back. “Let’s go meet with your mistress.”
The air feels cooler; clouds cover the sky. It’s so much easier to breathe.
I shouldn’t doubt myself, so when I admire how human Mistress Vincenza feels as she tiredly leans against a tree, I don’t tell myself to stop. The Ring wouldn’t give me these feelings if not to have them.
Still, the Ring wouldn’t want me to jump into traffic and await death. Whatever I choose will be what it wanted me to choose, but there’s a reason to what I choose. Because I… chose… I’m reusing that word too much. I think my thought made vague sense, but I can’t make sense of it right now.
“I’m ready to leave, Mistress.”
“As you say.” Mistress Vincenza immediately makes for the exit.
The matron kindly says, “halt. Do you promise to come here again, Vincenza? The congregation has missed you.”
