Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I slammed into the boardwalk on my back, the breath shoved out of my lungs from the force of the impact, gazing up at the motherfucker of an admiral who had tossed me over the side of the docked ship.

"Pishalé," I wheezed at him. Asshole .

My upper half was bound in ropes, my arms unable to move, my fingers flexing towards the padlock, but I couldn't reach it. Pain echoed down my spine and I cursed as a chorus of raucous laughter carried to me from the onlooking admirals. After I'd escaped the cabin I'd been locked in for the journey, a group of admirals had decided to tie me up and toss me back in there.

"Hey!" Harlon barked from up on deck and the sound of an argument broke out.

The air was frigid here, this small, rocky island off the coast of Never Keep a sacred place where all magical Awakenings in the four lands were held. We were in the polar circle, the air frosty and what little I could see of the landscape was barren, made up of black volcanic rock with deep green moss clinging to it in swathes.

I couldn't see much of the surrounding island beyond the iron grey walls of the fortress from this position, and I hadn't been allowed to come up on deck to see it from the ship. Those pieces of shit had followed my father's orders to a T, and apparently it wasn't over because they hadn't spared me the thought of a key to unlock the heavy padlock hanging from my restraints.

An admiral cried out in fright then came crashing down beside me on the boardwalk. One look up showed me Harlon leaning over the side of the ship, gazing down at me with wayward hair and a protective look in his eyes.

"Give me the key," I demanded, lunging at the fallen admiral, managing to get onto my knees and biting his hand like a rabid animal.

"Ah!" he wailed. "She fucking bit me. Here – take it, you psycho." He tossed the key at me and it went pinging across the decking, tinkling its way along, the sound like the mocking laughter of a fucking pixie as it dropped away between one of the gaps in the boards.

"No," I gasped, lunging after it, but it was far too late, the sound of the key hitting the water with a parting splash.

"Fetch it, drip," the admiral said, shoving to his feet and flicking a finger. A torrent of water shot from his hand, slamming into me and sending me flying over the edge between the boardwalk and the ship. I splashed into the freezing abyss with a cry stifled by the icy sea as it claimed me.

The water was clear and I could see the hulking ship rising up beside me, bobbing precariously and causing a current that forced me deeper. My back hit the rocky seabed and I thrashed against my restraints, kicking to try and swim back to the surface.

My pulse climbed when I didn't rise so much as a foot, and I reminded myself not to panic. No good ever came from panicking. The legend of Quazin the Wavewanderer was testament to that after his ship had been punched full of holes by the Stonebreakers upon a stormy sea. In a frenzy, he had been so focused on weaving the water away from the holes in his ship that he not been prepared to defend himself when the Stonebreakers had stormed his ship and cut his head from his shoulders. The moral of that story had been hammered into us in combat training, "A hole in a ship is less deadly than the swinging blade of your enemy."

The tale was intended to force our minds to calculate the risks of a situation, to notice which forms death was taking and pay attention to the one that loomed the closest. Drowning wasn't my greatest threat yet, these ropes were.

I twisted on the rocky bed, hunting the sea floor and finding a couple of fish eyeing me irritably like I was disturbing their tranquil little slice of ocean. A stream of bubbles slipped from my lips as I noticed a flash of silver beneath them, rolling towards it and snaring the key between my teeth. Which was about as much good to me as gripping it between my ass cheeks, but here we were.

A shadow cascaded down from above and Harlon's furious face came into view within the gloom. I jerked my chin up, showing him the key, my lungs starting to make it clear they would be far happier above the surface now.

Harlon swam powerfully down to me, taking the key from my lips and driving it into the padlock. Within seconds, he had the ropes torn from my body and I swam fast for the surface while he rose with me.

My head breached the water and I gulped down a lungful of freezing air, more laughter sounding from the admirals on the ship. I heaved myself up onto the boardwalk and Harlon dragged himself out too, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. I immediately tugged my hand out of his, looking to the admirals with a glare, not wanting them to see me as some distressed damsel who needed rescuing. The one who'd tossed my key was now back on deck, casually twisting my beautifully crafted blade in his hand, his blue eyes glittering at it as if he had already decided it was his.

"You'd better move fast," Harlon said in a low voice, swiping a hand through his hair to wring the water from it. His pack was sitting on the boards, but mine was still nowhere to be seen, and I knew exactly where to find it.

"I'll be five minutes," I said quietly, glancing back at Helle Fort as more and more Fae from Cascada poured off of ships in the port. We weren't the only ones here either. The hulking mass of an island peeked from the clouds above, telling of the Skyforgers, and not all of these ships belonged to Cascada. There were more far out in the water too, un-Awakened Fae arriving in their droves from all four lands, travelling to this neutral territory for the age-old tradition of our kind, set in place by the Reapers long ago.

All four lands respected and revered the Reapers, following their teachings of the stars. Helle Fort was sacred just as Never Keep was, and bloodshed between the four warring nations was forbidden here, punishable by execution at the Reapers' hands. It wasn't just the threat of that fate that stayed the blades of our enemies and ours alike, this was proclaimed by the will of the stars, spoken to the Reapers directly from the source of our creators. Among their ranks were Seers, those who possessed The Sight, a hallowed gift that gave these honoured Fae glimpses of the future and helped the Reapers guide us all in leading lives of worth and honour.

If any Fae here today held such a gift, they would be taken into the fold of the Reapers to claim a venerable and highly envied position among them. That wasn't the only path into their ranks though, for Fae who were Awakened with more than one magical element would be taken by them too, hailed as an acolyte – a Reaper in training. Our star signs may have been linked to the elements of our lands, assuring that we would Awaken with the elements of our homelands, but sometimes the stars selected Fae for such a destiny, gifting a Raincarver with water and air, or a Flamebringer with fire and earth and so forth. I imagined what my father would think if I happened to be gifted in that way, and the thought of his simpering appraisal had my pulse elevating with the possibility, but then I realised that would mean me giving up my dream of being a warrior and I balked against the possibility.

I kicked my sodden boots off along with my socks then nodded to Harlon and padded away down the boardwalk towards one of the thick, taut ropes that was tethering the ship to the dock. I tested my weight on it then pushed up onto my toes and quickly scaled the rope, my arms lifting either side of me for balance. It was easy. I'd long been adept at climbing trees, scaling buildings and passing between rooftops, but the hard part was what came next.

I sprang over the edge of the ship, landing lightly and slipping away below deck down a steep stairway. Silently, I hurried to the cabin I'd been kept in, finding my bag tossed beside a barrel of oranges and I snatched it up, stowing a few fat oranges in it for good measure then shouldering it and racing back the way I'd come.

The cold was biting as I made it to the top deck again, my wet hair plastered to my cheeks and my thin, soaked clothes useless against the icy wind. I'd known it would be cold here, but I'd underestimated that knowledge. The few clothes I'd made for this winter climate were clearly not going to be good enough, and with the few coins I had for supplies, I didn't know how I was going to afford to get anything better.

I slipped quietly along the deck towards the admiral who had now sheathed my dagger at his hip. He rested his elbows on the rail, directing the last Fae off of it, and thankfully his friends had disembarked to help guide the masses towards Helle Fort.

I slinked up behind him, silent as I went, reaching for the hilt of my dagger and holding my breath. With a nimble move, I yanked it from its sheath and he swung around, his eyes widening as they landed on me. Swinging my blade to distract him, I unhooked the sheath from his hip and snatched it away while he staggered back from my feigned strike. I leapt over the edge of the ship before he could do anything to stop me, hitting the boards hard, stumbling into a run as a blast of water wheeled past my head.

"Harl – go!" I cried and I heard him racing after me as I tore along the boardwalk, hitting the black sand of the beach and burying myself in the crowd, ducking my head low and pushing between the throng of Raincarvers.

Harlon wasn't far behind me, his bulk cutting a path more slowly and making people curse him as he went, but he wasn't the admiral's target.

I didn't stop moving until I'd forced a passage almost all the way to the front of the crowd that was closing in on the giant gates to the fort.

I surreptitiously slotted myself in behind two chattering women and glanced back, finding Harlon bustling his way forward, offering out winning smiles and words of thanks to those who let him pass. Which they did of course, breaking smiles and sharing jokes with him, their ire forgotten in an instant.

Harlon finally joined me and offered me my boots, dangling them in front of my face with my socks jammed into them.

I realised he must have changed his clothes back on the boardwalk, because nothing but the damp strands of his hair spoke of the dip he'd taken in the ocean. I, however, was going to freeze my tits off if I didn't get out of these wet clothes soon.

As we stepped into the shadow of the arching gateway, I ducked into an alcove to the side of the moving crowd, dropping my pack while Harlon followed, tossing my boots down beside it. I stripped down fast, and my friend moved to stand in front of me, shielding me from any prying eyes.

I didn't have much in terms of clothing options and plucked out a sand-coloured one-piece with tiny turquoise stones stitched onto the material in swirling patterns. It would leave my legs bare along with my arms and would be about as useful against the cold as tossing a napkin over my tits. But it was that or nothing, and walking into my trials naked was hardly going to show respect to the Reapers. They might just cut my head off there and then.

I pulled on some fresh undergarments, made from a soft pink satin I'd acquired from a local merchant in Castelorain, not exactly the sort of thing I'd planned on wearing for my assessment, but I shimmied into them anyway and pulled on the outfit. The material was stitched between my legs, so at least I wouldn't end up baring my ass to the Reapers, but this really wasn't ideal. As I pulled on an armoured plate over my chest and strapped my blade to my hip with my belt, I figured I was just going to have to suck it up.

I put on some dry socks, but had to slide them back into damp boots, grumbling as did so, then I balled up my wet clothes and stuffed them into my pack before shouldering it.

"Okay, let's move." I stepped past Harlon, slipping into the crowd again and he jogged after me.

"That's what you're wearing? You'll freeze," he balked.

"Yeah, well it's this or risk hypothermia in my wet clothes," I said. "At least I'm dry. Ish," I added when I noted the way my long hair was dripping a path behind me on the large stones.

Harlon kept fussing, but I stopped hearing him when I took in the giant drawbridge that led its way across a vast moat towards a set of open wooden doors. The grey walls of the fort stretched up high towards a swirling cloud where the Skyforgers were disembarking from their floating island onto the high cliffs. A waterfall spilled over it in a turbulent cascade of white froth, blasting into the river that wound out around the fort to create the natural mote and heading on to greet the sea.

A dark kind of hatred swept through me at the sight of the Skyforgers, the memory of the attack on Castelorain always so keen in my mind. My mother's screams echoed in my skull and I dropped my gaze from my enemies, my hand tightening into a fist at my side. I was finally on the path I'd been dreaming of walking ever since that day. My vengeance awaited me beyond these walls, and out towards the great isle where Never Keep was said to tower like a titan upon its shores. My place was waiting for me there, my magical instruction promising me the skills I needed to secure my revenge on the Flamebringer who was responsible for my mama's death. He was my goal, my sole focus now.

We passed over the drawbridge and through the iron gates, the huge courtyard of grey stone with a gate in each of the four walls and a stone stairway in the middle, leading down into the dark. Banners for each nation fluttered in the breeze above them. To my left, the white banner of the Skyforgers pictured an eagle holding a lightning bolt in its talons; to my right, a snarling bear swatting at a falling star glared at me from the dark green background of the Stonebreaker's banner, and directly ahead of me a tiger roared among a swirl of fire on the Flamebringer's red banner. Above me, the sea serpent of my nation was depicted on our blue banner, rising from a stormy ocean.

The un-Awakened Fae of the three elemental lands were entering through their own gates and tension snapped through the air as we took in the cut of each other. We held obvious differences, the clothes of our lands contrasting. The Skyforgers were clad in black battle leathers and had a generally pristine appearance, like they were striving to resemble the nobility that ruled their lands. Perhaps some of them were aristocracy, destined for positions of power, Fae who would one day give orders that might result in the deaths of the other elementals gathering here. They were ferocious in their self-importance, regarding the rest of us as if we were utterly inferior on every count.

My gaze moved to the Flamebringers, taking in their own fashions. Some wore button down shirts peeking out from beneath leather jackets, or fine cloaks paired with battle straps, armoured plates and decorated sword sheaths. The result was something terrifying, or perhaps it was the look in their eyes that really ignited the violent air about them. Like they had seen more bloodshed than most ever should, that they were right now picturing me cleaved apart and would delight in the prospect.

The Stonebreakers had a barbarous look about them, from the ink lining their skin to the fact that they all seemed to be enormous, thick with muscle and intimidating in sheer size alone. They watched the opposing Fae with something akin to a pack of predatory animals, everything about them screaming of instability and an impending attack. Their clothes were a mixture of furs, leathers and cotton, all in neutral tones and there was a sea of battle axes and long swords sheathed on their backs.

My people had thinner clothes that were generally more colourful than the other nations'. We favoured the blues of the ocean, turquoises, azure and cyan, or the colours of a sunset, like ambers, pinks and yellows. Our hair was adorned with braids, and most of our armour was a range of metallic blues and silvers.

Us Raincarvers were slowed by a group of Reapers in their gold cloaks who directed us into a line before the stone stairway that led below ground. All four groups of elementals were urged into lines too, and a chilling kind of quiet fell over the fortress as we assessed each other.

Our enemies. The next generation of Fae who we would meet on the battlefield and equal each other's deaths.

I scoured the faces of the Flamebringers, seeking the man whose name was waiting to find its place on my dagger just in case there was a chance fate had decided to present him to me now. But I found only strangers glaring back at me, their eyes dark and full of loathing. I just hoped my target still lived, and no other Fae had claimed his death from me, because I would hate to be denied the privilege of his end.

A clamour of muttering and several curses drew my attention back to the Skyforgers as a trio of women shoved the others in line aside, moving to claim their positions at the front of their queue.

"Tie me up and whip me raw!" a man yelled and the woman with short, dark hair at the right of the trio threw her elbow into his gut hard enough to make him double over with a harsh wheeze.

The one leading their group was shorter than the others, the crowd surrounding me making it hard to see much aside from a glimpse of pale pink hair as I craned my neck to see what was happening.

Pink among a sea of black leather. Ice trickled through my limbs as I realised who was here. That hair whispered of the truth of her Order. It was just one of the many things that Fae spoke of in tones of reverence about her, even when those words were laced with hatred.

Her name was hissed through the crowd as others took note. The Sky Witch.

She'd been there that fateful day when I'd lost my mother and my town had been torn in two. My jaw locked tight as I sidestepped the big asshole in front of me and I fell still as I found myself looking straight at her across the cobbled courtyard.

My breath stalled in my lungs despite knowing what she was and having tried to prepare myself for it. I blinked as I worked to fight off the daze I felt upon seeing her perfectly proportioned features, focusing on the brutal, jagged wound which had been carved into her right cheek, though somehow it did nothing to diminish her beauty. She looked like a painting, ethereal, unreal. No wonder she thrived so viciously in battle if this was what happened when Fae laid eyes on her. Even a few seconds of hesitation could equal death in battle and by the looks of all those surrounding her, she could have gutted ten of them before one so much as regained their composure.

I glanced at Harlon behind me, finding him watching her closely, his copper eyes tracking over her face before falling on me and remaining there. I looked back at the Sky Witch, my hand curling into a tight fist, fingernails biting into my palm as I reminded myself of who and what she was, of the fact that she had been there to attack Castelorain, making it possible for the Flamebringers to slip through our borders and end my mama's life.

The allure of her shattered as I focused on that, though there were many Fae who seemed entirely lost to it, calling out declarations of desire, lust, and proposals of love while The Sky Witch simply glowered at them. Her two companions, both terrifying in their own right, moved to block anyone foolish enough to try and approach. But I didn't get the feeling the Sky Witch needed their protection; more that they were protecting the Fae who had fallen for her allure from what might happen if they got too close.

"Fae of the four nations," a Reaper spoke, his voice amplified by magic as he touched his fingers to his throat. He was an elderly man, long grey hair sleekly hanging down by his shoulders.

We all fell silent reverently, the four nations united in this one thing: our worship of the stars beneath the guiding hand of the Reapers who were blessed with the words of the deities themselves.

"You will be called forward one at a time to meet with your appraisers and be assessed in magic, mind and body for your place in the world. Those of you hoping to attain a position at Never Keep, wishing to take up the fight started by the four nations in a time lost to legend when Layetta, Rishan, Alrier and Kiana walked the world, their conflict casting The Waning Lands into the Endless War. Head down the steps when you are called and may the stars bless your fortune."

I assumed he had done this speech several times already today because plenty of our nation and many Fae from the other lands had passed this way already.

There was a sudden hesitation in the women heading the line just ahead of Harlon and me, and as the one at the front turned back, I realised it was Alina Seaman. Her gaze locked on me and she caught my arm, shoving me to the front.

"Runts first," she hissed, jabbing me in the back, and before I could grapple with her, the grey-haired Reaper locked eyes with me and beckoned me forward.

I swallowed a curse, glancing over my shoulder and meeting Harlon's gaze. He quirked an encouraging smile at me, and I gave him a nod that said I'd see him soon before throwing an icy look at Alina and moving forward.

"Why's she dressed like that?" A snigger came to my right and I didn't bother to look at the Stonebreakers as a few more taunts carried to me from the onlooking Skyforgers and Flamebringers too.

Alina was whispering with her friends, a ripple of giggles sounding from them before the Reapers glanced their way and silence fell once more.

I steeled myself, trying to ignore the eyes from all around that were peeling me apart as I approached the Reaper.

"Do you wish to try for a place at Never Keep where you might earn the right to join the ranks of warriors who battle for the supremacy of your nation? Or is your calling for another path?" the Reaper asked me, his wizened voice a scrape across my ears.

I raised my chin, my father's suggestion that I claim a place as a Provider ringing through my mind, striking rebellion and defiance through my soul.

"I wish to place at Never Keep," I replied firmly and though I didn't turn to look at her, I somehow felt the Sky Witch's attention on me as I spoke those words, like I had just made myself into a true opponent of hers.

"Raise your right hand," he ordered and I did so. The Reaper swept forward, taking a glittering crystal from within his robe and holding it against my palm. It glowed as it brushed my skin then he nodded. "Your magical signature has been recorded. Please take the path to my right where the Combat Trial awaits," he instructed, pointing me to the steps and I descended into the dark.

I touched my fingers to the dagger at my hip, its presence reassuring as I met the bottom of the deep stairway, finding myself in a long tunnel lit by flaming sconces. Paintings were scrawled across the walls denoting the four elements, trails of fire, water, wind and leaves following me through the dark. If possible, it was colder down here than above ground, and goosebumps crept along my skin as I worked to draw my attention away from that sensation. But I was used to warm waters and long days in the sun. This was a kind of cold that had teeth, sinking into me like an invisible beast.

A light grew at the far end of the tunnel and I stepped into a chamber where a shaft of sunlight cut right down from a circular hole in the high roof, shining directly onto a stone table. Weapons were laid across it; a dagger, sword, axe, bow and spear, each of them made of pure gold. They were beautiful, stunning creations that looked to be forged with near-perfect skill.

I admired them as I stepped closer, and a booming male voice filled the air, though no Fae was in the chamber with me.

"Lay your wares in the chute and select one weapon. If you step into the Combat Trial with any arms of your own possession, you shall not place at Never Keep."

I shed the pack from my shoulders, taking the dagger from my hip and tucking it safely inside before buckling the bag up tight. Then I moved to the hole that lay beside the stone table - which I guessed was the chute - hesitating as I hung my pack over it.

"I'll get this back, right?" I asked the bodiless voice.

No answer came and I huffed out a breath as I said goodbye to all my worldly possessions and tossed them into the chute. They disappeared into the dark and I stepped closer to the table, deciding which weapon to take.

I was adept with each of them, but I favoured the blades, so I took up the gleaming sword and weighed it in my grip.

"Is your selection final?" the voice echoed out again.

"Sisca," I affirmed in Cascalian, then quickly said, "Yes."

A grinding of stone scraping against stone sounded ahead of me and I found a door opening in the chamber wall, a sandy passage appearing beyond it.

I walked that way, raising the sword and passing more flaming sconces as I followed the trail of sand. Sunlight spilled out ahead and I quickened my pace, finding a wide arena spreading out before me. Five Reapers sat high up on a ring of stone seats, their faces tilted down within the golden hoods of their cloaks, their gazes assessing as they watched me walk to the centre of the arena.

I swallowed thickly. In Castelorain, we didn't see many Reapers aside from the two who reigned over the Astral Sanctuary and they rarely left the confines of the place of worship. Even when I attended the sanctuary to pay homage to the stars, I was always positioned to the rear of the building, the eyes of the Reapers never falling on me from their place at the front.

I regarded them with awe and trepidation as I found all of their gazes locked on me now. The Reapers were the best of Fae kind – those destined for a fate far greater than the call of war, hence their position outside the authority of the four nations. They were blessed by the stars, the magic that was Awakened within them not constrained to the single element of their birth. Some of the conscripts who had come here today would hear not only the call of the magic their star sign had assured them, but that of another element, or perhaps even three, or occasionally all four of them. It was rare, but when a soul was blessed by the stars and marked by this claim of superiority, they were at once welcomed into the fold of the Reapers and trained to become an acolyte of the stars themselves.

Despite my pretty daydreams of finding myself among their ranks by the end of the day, it was so rare that I seriously doubted it. Besides, no element except the ferocious power of water had ever called to me. I couldn't imagine a fate where I would claim dominion over air, fire or earth alongside it.

"Begin," one of the Reapers spoke and a bellowing roar made me wheel around in alarm.

A cage stood in the shadows, the door flying open as a giant beast burst from within. It was just like the creatures from the wastelands, this monster part animal, part magically imbued metal. It looked as though it had once been something akin to a crocodile, but its legs were longer, its movements quicker as the beast came tearing towards me with open jaws.

Magic glittered against the shell of its armour, and I set my gaze on the green scales of its neck between the plates, racing to meet it and swinging my sword as adrenaline swept into my blood.

Its jaws snapped at me, its teeth a mixture of metal and enamel, its snout coated in armour too. I rolled to avoid the strike, gaining my feet beside it and slashing my sword towards its neck, my instincts alive and burning. It moved at the last second so my sword hit the armour instead, the blow denting the metallic plates, but there was no way I'd be able to cut through it.

The beast's tail swiped out, slamming into my legs and throwing me from my feet. I hit the sand, rolling again as the creature wheeled around, coming for me at speed, its jaws wide and ready to take my head from my shoulders.

Instead of escaping the oncoming death I could see in its reptilian eyes, I leapt upright and rushed to meet it, my sword driving into that open mouth and sinking in deep before slicing up into its skull.

Flesh and bone shattered from the impact and the beast shuddered, dying just like that as I wrenched my blade from the back of its throat and turned to the Reapers with a victorious smile twisting my lips. Too easy.

My heart thrashed, the thrill of the win setting my soul on fire. But I found no such excitement in the Reapers' eyes, just a simple nod from the evident leader and a single finger pointing me towards a door that was sliding open in the wall to my right.

"Praise to the stars." I bowed my head in acknowledgement of them and hurried off through that door.

"Praise to those who tread their destined path," the Reapers replied in unison, the words making my skin prickle. Their power was absolute, touched by the stars themselves and I could feel their strength crackling in the atmosphere.

The sword was wrenched from my hand and I glanced back as it went flying away across the arena on a magical wind and the door closed behind me.

I found myself in a smaller chamber with a single Reaper standing there, her face impassive, her eyes seeing me yet entirely void of emotion. She raised a single hand, urging me closer and I cautiously approached.

The Reapers were gifted with the great and divine knowledge of our makers, and each of them held a presence that spoke of that extraordinary power, setting my pulse skipping in delight at being so close to them.

She laid a cool palm to my forehead and her two eyes slid together into one, bulbous eye, revealing herself as a Cyclops. I hadn't had great experiences with their Order thanks to Alina, but I trusted the Reapers implicitly and no fear found me at her touch.

She breathed a single word, "Open," and I knew exactly what to do.

I relaxed the boundaries of my mind and let her fully into my head, the rush of her Order gifts sliding over me and making me weak from the tumult of magic.

She sifted through my thoughts, seeking what she needed, sorting one memory from the next as she weighed and measured the cut of me.

I urged memories of the wasteland to my mind, letting her see the creatures I'd slain, showing every moment of strength I owned.

But she pushed past them, discarding them as if they were nothing, and my heart crushed as she found the memories of Ransom, Alina and the others chasing me, beating me, belittling me. The words ‘runt', ‘freak', ‘outcast' echoed through my head and my father flashed into my mind. His sneers, his dismissal.

Embarrassment coated my skin and I willed her elsewhere, trying to show her more, the better pieces of me. But she only rooted deeper, finding the truth I feared most of all. My mother laying over me while Basilisk venom rained down from above, my left hand burned and scarred beyond repair. I saw the Flamebringer's face so clearly that all the hatred which lived in me for him scored a passage through my chest, and as the Reaper withdrew herself from my mind, I realised I was screaming.

I clapped a hand to my mouth, fighting away the cruel memories of that day and the wound in my heart that had never truly healed over the loss of my mama.

"I'm more than what you saw," I rasped, trying to find a hint of something in this woman's gaze. Her Cyclops Order retreated and her one eye returned to two. But her expression was blank. She gave no hint of whether she had been moved at all by what she'd seen.

"You are not a Seer," she stated. "You hold no power to speak with the stars, no gift of visions or fortune telling."

"Okay," I exhaled, not surprised by that. "But listen, what you saw, it doesn't define me, it doesn't mean-"

"You may now progress to your Awakening," she said in a bland tone, another stone door opening at her back.

I remained rooted to the spot, needing to know if what she'd seen of me meant I had just lost my chance at placing at Never Keep.

"I'm more than that," I pressed, and her eyes dropped from me, her interest lost.

"You may now progress to your Awakening," she repeated.

I nodded, accepting her words, not wanting to disrespect her.

"Praise to the stars," I murmured automatically.

"Praise to those who tread their destined path," she replied.

I walked past her with anxiety warring in my chest, unsure if I had made the cut, or if the single fact of being who I was, of the dark truths that were etched into the fabric of my past, had just cost me everything I'd ever hoped for.