Page 65 of As Above, So Below

Resisting the urge to ferry myself to the furthest corners of Eldoterra, I breathe deep. My innate trembles under the weight of their stares, as do my fingers. I clench the hanging, wide sleeves of my robes in an attempt to still them.

This is a temporary arrangement.

I am not signing a contract.

I do not trust Celesta.

Or any of the gods for that matter.

The thoughts roll through my head on repeat as the High Priestess begins the ceremony. The temple members stand in neat little rows, their hands clasped over their hearts, silent as Artemise starts in prayer.

To my infernal surprise, she speaks in Yggdrasil. Unlike the last time Artemise had spoken the language of the heavens, the words fail to rub themselves raw over my skin. While my stomach doesn’t turn with nausea as it usually would, it remains uncomfortable.

The words strike me in the chest, the power in them sitting heavily like someone stacking stones. At the same time, my innate resonates, as if her words were plucking at my shadows with a curled finger against a string. For the time being, the sensations are not pleasant, but they are tolerable.

Artemise stands radiant in her silver robes, dozens of magelights floating freely overhead, casting slow-shifting shadows across the room. Raising her hands high above her head, she speaks with a beckoning timbre that fills the space. If I wasn’t watching her right now, I wouldn’t believe such a voice was coming from a human.

She pauses before speaking in common tongue.

“Sisters, brothers, creatures in kind, we congregate beneath tonight’s celestial canopy to honor our great goddess.” Artemise steps forward, lowering her hood.

“Her light illuminate our heart,” those in silver robes chime in unison.

“Her shadow reveal our path,” the black-robed half of the room answers the call.

“She who embodies both light and shadow, peace and destruction, let her guide us, her children, in all that we do,” Artemise’s voice rings out.

“Guide us through our ever-shifting phase,” the entire room speaks in unison.

“Embrace her ebb,” the black-robed half of the room call out.

“Embrace her flow,” the silver half return.

“We ask that you accept these initiates into your service, great goddess Celesta,” Artemise continues, moving left, lowering her arms.

Eve steps into view, in her hands a silver tray and upon it asilver-bladed dagger. Artemise retrieves the dagger, her slender fingers gripping the black handle tightly before turning to face us.

“May their devotion be as unwavering as our goddess’ celestial body that hangs in the heavens.” Artemise moves to stand at the end of the line on my right, and the mortals offer their left hands, palms upward.

Hastily I do the same.

“Celesta, we ask you to recognize and accept the blood offerings made to you on this night. Their essence for your honor,” Artemise calls out and kisses the flat side of the blade.

“In your light we find wisdom,” the voices of those in silver ring.

“In your shadow we build strength,” the voices of those in black answer.

In a swift motion, Artemise drags the edge of the blade against the first initiate’s palm, wiping the blade with a white cloth before moving to the next, repeating the action. As she works her way down the line, my heart begins to race. A strange fluttering sensation that turns my breathing shallow.

Not a contract, but a gods damned blood oath.

My jaw tightens as she draws closer.

The edge of the blade meets my palm, and I grit my teeth at the quick flash of pain. Artemise moves to the mortal on my left, not slowing in her procession.

Lowering my gaze, the shallow cut across my palm is already beginning to heal, but not before a pool of lustrous silver blood forms.

My blood is silver?