Page 20

When I’d arrived, Slyne had led me up the tower. For the initiation, we ventured below ground. Devoin led the way, Slyne trailing right behind with my arm still locked in hers. A few others followed. The older members, I noted. Maybe only those who had a certain ranking could come to the Monastery?

Nerves frayed under my skin, but I forced myself to match Slyne’s steps, breathing deeply through my nose.

I survived Greymere.

It’ll just be some prayers. I’ll repeat what they say, and it’ll be fine.

And if it’s not… I can handle it .

Whatever it cost, it’d be a small price for safety. For belonging.

The basement level was different from the rest of the spaces I’d seen.

The stairs led to a wide, circular room.

As with every other room, statues lined the space, but these were larger, at least eight feet tall, and carved from dark stone.

They were carved with the same magical perfection as the ones at the front of the garden, but I forced myself to ignore it.

Hanging braziers punctuated the space between the statues, casting the room in a low glow that reminded me of the dark halls I’d spent the past years in.

This was different. It was my choice to be here.

Devoin stood in the center. Slyne nudged me forward before taking a post in front of a statue, matching where the others scattered around.

“You’ve come to seek sanctuary in the temple of the gods, the true rulers of the realm. Do you wish for their deliverance?” Devoin intoned. His words were pious, but there was something in the tone that rankled. A coating of superiority that followed each one out, that said, I have what you want .

I forced myself to hold my head high. “I do.”

He turned away and went to a pillar at the back while he continued to talk, his voice bouncing off the statues.

“It is easy to make claims with words. You must prove your devotion. You have harmed yourself over and over with years of greedy magic use. Even now, I feel it clinging to you.” The cards were hot against my skin.

“It makes me wonder if you’re beyond saving. ”

A hushed silence fell in the chamber. I glanced around, but none of the acolytes met my gaze. “I’ll do it. Whatever it is, just give me a chance.” Just please, don’t find the cards…

“As I said, the gods do not trust the words of the corrupt. You must show them you are truly repentant. And as the priest of this city’s Monastery, I will guide you to their forgiveness.”

He turned back, the braziers casting him in a fearsome light.

“Kneel.”

I dropped to my knees, the cold stone pressing against my shins. Devoin wasn’t much taller than me, even at my short stature. Now, I had to crane my neck up to see him as he walked back to the center of the space.

“Do you admit only gods can save you?”

“Yes.” The word flew from my mouth, as unabashed as my earlier begging.

Yes. Accept me. Let me belong.

The priest’s face didn’t change. “Beliefs are defined by actions, not words. You must make your body mirror the state of your soul. Only then will you understand the unbearable pain the gods are saving you from.”

“Remove your shirt.”

I hesitated.

“Do you want to be part of us or not?” Devoin demanded .

I have to do this . I reached for the hems of my new blouse.

My flesh wasn’t beautiful, but it wasn’t shameful.

The band of fabric still pressed my breasts together.

Devoin’s gaze pressed into me as I lifted my shirt.

But no matter how careful I’d been, I couldn’t stop the movement from dislodging one of the cards I’d pressed against my skin.

The tension in the room rose as all eyes fell to the enchanted card that fell to the ground.

This was it. They’d kick me out for sure now. I’d wasted my chance.

I hunched my shoulders, bracing for the yelling.

But Devoin’s voice didn’t change from that even, pious tone. “It seems you have extra sins to atone for. Now, impress the gods.”

He held out his arm, right in front of my face.

My stomach twisted in comprehension. With shaky fingers, I grasped the handle of the tool he’d retrieved from the other side of the room.

Several knotted strands of rope dangled from the handle.

From this close, I could smell the hint of copper that soaked the rope. How many times had it been used?

My arm felt impossibly heavy as I took it from his hand and lifted the handle above my head. Blindly, I let it fly. Even though I was braced, I gasped at the contact. It hurt .

“I said impress them.”

I lifted the scourge once more and hit myself as hard as I could. Pain exploded across my back, and I dropped the handle. My eyes watered, burning me.

“Again.”

I picked it up and hit myself. I tried to avoid the same spot, but with all the tails, the whip seemed to hit every part of my back.

“Again.”

My knuckles were white around the whip, but I obeyed. You have to do this. You have to prove you’re one of them . This time, I didn’t drop it.

“Again.”

On it went. The pain stopped being so shocking, and instead grew consuming.

I couldn’t sink into it, not the way I could when Nelson would beat me.

Because I had to participate. I had to hit myself as hard as possible, over and over, to earn Devoin’s approval.

If my blows grew weak, he simply said, “Do better.” Those were the worst—the pain that was worthless. It earned me nothing.

But still, I hit myself. Because I would earn their approval. No one gave anything for free. At least here, the cost was clear. Hit after hit. My chest bent lower to the ground, the card directly on the floor between Devoin and me growing hazier with every blow.

“Again.”

How many had it been? Ten strokes? Twenty? Sweat coated my palms and the rest of my body, making it hard to grasp the handle. Slyne met my gaze for the briefest moment when I looked up. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to see there.

It was that same, warm, encouraging smile as when she’d led me in for lunch. The rest wore expressions mirroring the statues they stood in front of. The same people I’d laughed with, if briefly, only hours before.

“Again,” Devoin said.

So again the ropes slammed into me. Was it even my own arm moving? It was hard to tell.

Then again.

And again.

I beat myself over and over at his command.

I thought there was no end to the pain, until one split my skin wide open.

I cried out at that, for the first time, the flail falling from my grasp as I bent over.

Tears ran freely from my eyes. My brain tried to tell me to reach for the handle, to keep obeying.

Instead, I crossed my hands over my chest, my forehead falling at Devoin’s feet while my entire body shook.

“You have taken yourself as far as you could,” Devoin said.

Was his voice gentle? Or was everything just distant? Hope bloomed in my chest. I’d done it. I’d maimed myself to his satisfaction. I’d endured and shown them I belonged—

“So I will take you the rest of the way and lead you to the gods’ forgiveness. ”

I couldn’t force my body up, but I twisted my head, finding his eyes.

They didn’t seem benevolent or spiritual. Not even impassive.

They seemed… victorious.

I’d seen the same eyes on Nelson. Too many times.

How was this different from Greymere?

Devoin lifted the scourge in his hand. The swish of it whispering through the air lasted an hour. When it hit me, I screamed. It was a sound I’d never made before. A sound I hadn’t known I could make.

Raphael didn’t yell like this when they beat him.

Is this the same thing he went through? As a vampire, a mortal enemy of the witches? Was that the same as my fate?

“Stop!” I begged when he lifted it again. “Please. Mercy!”

“You must accept that pain is the will of the gods. As long as you fight it, you cannot be one of us,” Nelson said. No. Devoin?

He hit me again, harder. Blood splattered from the blow, landing in front of me. My mind seized on the drops. The red haze of memory grabbed me.

Blood and blood and blood. Flesh torn apart. The cries for mercy, cut off as her corpse was shredded —

More drops joined it.

The drops of red turned to a sea, blood flowing. There was screaming. My own? My memories? No—other .

A thud. Another thud.

In my vision, Devoin collapsed.

His body—his head was gone, blood flowing from the neck.

I lifted my head.

Bodies.

Bodies everywhere. Bloody, brutal kills. As bloody as I remembered. Even as I looked, I didn’t really see . My memories laid over the scene, a wave of déjà vu choking me.

But there was a difference. In the present, one figure still stood. Slashes of blood colored him red from his hair to his torso.

I should’ve tried to run. Should’ve been terrified of the monster.

One desperate arm untangled from my chest, reaching forward.

“You came…” Nothing more than a whisper of a question.

Any response was lost as my vision blurred and I collapsed.