Page 20

BLOOD OATHS

“ T hrough Dormancy, we blossom!” The frenetic chant echoed throughout the Great Hall. Those who chose to sit nearest the platform were completely enraptured with the crowd’s energy, their food and drink neglected as they pumped their fists in the air.

Their fanatical devotion was both confounding and understandable. When people were at their lowest, they leaned on those with perceived power—the loudest in the room, whether through words, actions, or intimidation—hoping they would be uplifted.

Melina raised one hand, a satisfied grin carving across her face as she stood from the grand throne atop the dais. The crowd silenced immediately. The other Elders sat on either side of her, jaws churning slowly as their teeth ground each bite of food. A long wooden table was set before them. They had started attending dinners over the last month—eating silently, glowering, or scrutinizing the assembled as if deciding which of us were prized stock.

“With only two months left until the spring equinox, I’ll go over the Winnowing Trials!” The crowd cheered, eager to receive details instead of only knowing whispered rumors. Melina scanned the room, one eyebrow raised. After everyone settled, she announced, “In a month’s time, a grand ball will be held to celebrate the upcoming spring equinox marking the Dormancy’s successful end—and to honor the chosen competitors.”

More whoops and applause rippled through the room. Breena grinned at me from across the table as she bit into a cheese wedge. She wiggled her eyebrows, plopping the rest of it onto her plate. Next to her, Letti smirked at Breena while leaning into Xeni, politely joining in with the crowd. Rhaegar, on my right, cupped his chin and mouth with his hand, his massive shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Only Druiks and Draumrs may compete—the trials are not for the fragile. You’ll need both power and strength to secure the victory,” Melina sneered, making eye contact with a group wearing white. My fingers clutched the black fabric of my skirt, looking around in confusion. Doesn’t her flock realize she’s mocking them? Sitting to my left, Kaden put his arm around me, rubbing his thumb soothingly over my shoulder.

“Failure is a one-way ticket to the Stygian Murk.” Gasps and dropped silverware permeated the air. “Can you handle being caught in limbo for what equates to several weeks—or longer? For everyone else, with the fall of the full moon, your pods will awaken and beckon your astral forms home. For those who have lingered there this entire time, or those who fail during the trials … only the Fates know where they’ll call home after the Dormancy. I’ll let you chew on that through this week.”

Breena gave Kaden, Rhaegar, and me two exuberant thumbs-up, which Kaden and I ignored, shaking our heads.

The tipped-up corners of my mouth fell as I thought of my mother and father. It was a miracle that Father had survived the Murk and returned home in previous turns. I prayed he’d do so again. If only Mama had been so lucky. My heart squeezed, and I drew in a deep breath.

I surveyed the room, wondering where Gavrel was as Melina’s voice faded out of my awareness. He’d made himself scarce since the day my ember devoured Kaden’s.

That was a couple of months ago.

I’d seen him briefly in passing a few times, but he had only offered me a polite nod or a dour expression before going about his business. Maybe he was disappointed in me. Or worse, repulsed.

A few of my peers, Druik and human alike, were wary of me after they had witnessed my gift’s revelation. I tried disregarding their apprehensive looks, disapproving glares, and blatant avoidance. But it was wearing on me, like a thousand little pinpricks under my skin.

Meanwhile, I had been diligently practicing daily, spending hours learning how to manage my power.

Control it.

Tether it.

I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, trying to relieve the tension within my muscles.

An overabundance of thoughts fell heavy upon my shoulders, pinning me to my seat. My fingers fidgeted with each other on my lap as I took a deep breath. Shifting toward the stage, my body extricated itself from Kaden’s embrace. I exhaled, feeling lighter without his hand resting on my shoulder. Melina’s words came into focus again.

“… choose to compete, every team will undergo the first test—the Weeding—which could transpire any time after this week. With the fruition of each trial, survivors will advance to the next challenge.” An unkind smile oozed over her face before she hid it behind steepled fingers.

She dipped her chin, dropping her hands to the tabletop. The pads of her fingers rested upon it as she composed herself, her face settling into indifference. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the crowd.

“Now for the prize. Each competitor on the victorious team will be rewarded with a turn’s supply of extra food rations.” Sharp intakes of breaths scattered throughout the hall. Kaden grabbed my hand, nodding at Breena and then Rhaegar. It appeared we’d need to take Breena seriously about participating in the tournament.

“Before the Ancients disappeared, our runemaster was extensively trained in the art of celestial-blessed symbols.” Melina paused, stretching her arms wide. “The victor alone will be granted a rune tattoo for their efforts—gifting them a portion of enhanced ember.” The crowd responded raucously.

Melina settled on the throne, lifting her pewter goblet and taking a delicate sip. She glanced to her side. “Ryboas?”

Elder Ash rose from his seat, his chair creaking with relief. His frown seeped into his dark eyes as they studied the crowd, pale hands gripping the lapels of his crimson robes. His voice spilled over us like dry, rough grains of sand. “At the end of this week, an oath ceremony will be held at the Elysium Tree. Each competitor must submit a blood offering to the sacred banyan. This participation oath is binding. If you break it, you will be sent to the Stygian Murk.”

He raised his chalice and recited, “May you withstand the currents of the Winnowing. For only the worthy will remain.” He sat heavily on his chair, his face drooping in total boredom as the citizens rejoiced.

I took in the people around me. Some had eyes shining with tentative hope. Others, crazed with it. My nape tingled, energy anxiously vibrating. My skin itched as if someone was watching me.

My eyes drifted to a male Akridai skulking in a shadowed corner of the stage. We all knew him—Balor Drent—as he often lurked near Melina. As one of her favored enforcers, he wasn’t someone I wanted to be caught alone with. His very presence made my skin crawl. He’d recently returned from a mission, but I wished he had stayed away. Balor played with a long strand of his slick, dark hair as he stared at me unabashedly.

An aura—slippery black grease swirling in a buttery stew—seethed around him. His tattoo burned against his neck’s sickly yellow glow. Rhaegar had recently informed me that the locust rune not only enforced an Akridai’s oath to the Elders but also tainted their ember, resulting in the oily, neon-like slurry of their auras.

Kaden followed my gaze, wrapping his arm around me and glaring at Balor. The male grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming, and then slinked after the Elders as they left the room at the back of the stage.

I pushed my plate away, leaning into Kaden’s chest. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

The end of the week arrived too hastily.

Ten sets of potential competitors consisting of Druiks and Draumrs were strategically placed around the Elysium Tree. Various auras glimmered among the teams. No one was actively using their gift, so I knew I was the only one privy to this display.

Rhaegar appeared to be the only embered warrior from Gavrel’s unit among the candidates. I stood with him, Breena, and Kaden at one of the ten designated points, staring at the golden, oval-shaped petals resting upon the moss. Gilded rays reflected off them, melding into their delicate cups. They created a twinkling line between each team, connecting us and forming a decagon.

Numerous guards surrounded us at the edges of the wide canopy, separating us from the onlookers. The sun peeked through the flame-colored leaves above. A gentle breeze swept through the tree, making the leaves rustle and the mossy vines sway around us. I breathed in, enjoying the fragrant scents washing over me.

The crowd was copious, its restless energy buzzing through the mass in waves. An anxious flutter vibrated under the raised star on my nape. I widened my stance, focusing on the gorgeous, twisting bark of the tree before us. Its power called to me, waves of golden shimmers flickering over its gnarled surface. As if it knew unbreakable, blood-bound promises were about to be made.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Kaden muttered, squeezing my chilled hand with his warm one.

Breena winked at him, her smile stretching wide. She was about to burst with excitement. A warm, russet shade swept across her chest and rounded cheeks.

“There wasn’t a choice. We need to do all we can to win those food rations for our village,” I whispered from the side of my mouth.

He looked at me, his eyes softening. “I know, of cour?—”

His words morphed into a grunt as Rhaegar thumped a heavy hand on his shoulder, interrupting him. “We will prevail, my friends. I’m quite sure of it.” The warrior didn’t bother to whisper, the deep bass of his voice lilting. Nearby, competitors glared at us, scoffed, or rolled their eyes.

“That’s the battle fever we need!” Breena praised, clasping Rhaegar’s wrist as he reciprocated the gesture. They shook each other’s wrists enthusiastically before releasing each other. The corners of my lips threatened to lift before I turned my attention to the team on our left. I stopped myself, pulling my mask of indifference firmly in place.

A tall, stout woman leered at me. Her hands tightened on the leather baldric across her chest, and her Draumr uniform strained at her shoulders as if she were ready to pounce. I refused to break away from her gaze and squinted my eyes. She sneered, flicking her wavy, sand-colored hair behind her and widening her stance. Ignoring her, I looked ahead.

Rhaegar leaned closer to me and rumbled, “Don’t mind Sebille. She is as spoiled as a rotted mirberry.” I nudged his biceps with my shoulder, giving him a small smile in response.

My focus wandered, thinking of what could come in the weeks ahead. I was terrified of being sent to the Stygian Murk, but after we’d learned about the extra food rations, there was no doubt I’d enter the competition. This was something I could do for our realm.

Something tangible.

Something useful.

A rustling and shifting of bodies broke through my thoughts. The crowd parted as Gavrel strode through, stepping over the flower petals. He looked at Kaden, and then his eyes skimmed over me, his eyes softening. In the next instant, his mouth buttoned together tightly as he pulled his attention away from me, scanning the crowd. He positioned himself next to the enormous trunk and looked into the distance, his face a mask of disinterest. I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling in my belly.

A wisp of smoldering smoke twirled around the twisted trunk in front of us. The tree’s glittering aura stilled, its glow shrinking into shadowed crevices. The haze condensed before peeling away, and Melina appeared out of the billowy cloud. A collective gasp swept through the audience. Those farthest from the tree strained to see what was happening. Basking in the crowd’s attention, Melina lifted her chin, a feral grin creeping over her mouth.

Ryboas marched into the center, a dour expression on his face as he stopped next to Melina. Not one for theatrics like his peer, he proceeded. “Welcome, competitors. I commend those brave enough to make this blood promise,” he announced, reaching into an inner pocket of his robes and revealing a mesmerizing dagger.

The dagger’s blade was made of smoothly chiseled obsidian, the edges carved into a wavy pattern that gently tapered into a razor-sharp point. Its hilt was brilliant platinum with intricate swirling patterns etched into the liquid-like silver. Radiance reflected and sparked off its lustrous surfaces, making it appear to be a living creature with its own aura. The pommel was made of a large, faceted diamond. Each time a speck of light touched its clear edges, dazzling rainbows scattered in all directions.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to it.

Ryboas’ voice rang out as he held the dagger above his head and slowly walked around the trunk. “This dagger is the only one in existence and was forged long ago by the founding Elders as a gift to Morpheus. It is rumored that the Ancient had little use for it, so he infused it with supreme ember, making its blade stronger than steel and allowing it to bond with keepers over the centuries …” He paused, stroking the blade reverently.

He closed his eyes, frowning. “But alas, we can’t believe every fairytale we are told as children.” He sniffed, one corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “However, its lore makes it the perfect ceremonial blade. Let’s begin.” He turned to face the team to our left, waving the dagger toward them and then to the tree.

Sebille lifted her chin, breaking from her team and striding forward confidently. Her teammates followed: two male Draumrs and one male Druik. Ryboas poised the knife, its glossy blade glinting. His eyes pierced into each of theirs as he recited, “Your blood is your bond. Broken promises reap consequences. The Elysium Tree is rooted in our beginning and our end.”

The female guard held out her palm, and Elder Ash promptly swept the blade across her tender flesh. She squeezed her fingers into the pooling blood, dripping it onto the sacred roots below. The tree shivered as its roots drank it in. A shimmering wave of energy crept over its trunk as the crimson pool vanished. The rest of her team did the same before returning to their original position.

With each participant who made their vow, the crowd cheered. My knees were soft as my arm wrapped around Kaden’s back for support. He held me close, still and composed. The team to our right was almost finished as Ryboas sliced the last male Druik’s palm.

The man’s form trembled as he pulled his wounded hand toward his chest. His teammate placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. The man jerked his head frantically, clutching his limb for dear life as his ichor stained the fabric of his yellow tunic. His teammate mouthed something to him, digging his fingers into the man’s shoulder. Shaking, the Druik thrust his hand forward.

His face lost all color as he gulped and snapped his hand back, stepping away from the tree and his team. He cried, “I can’t!” It was too late, though. As if in slow motion, a drop of his blood had escaped, falling to the base of the tree with a splatter. It trickled down the bark like a scarlet tear before seeping into the wood.

The man’s face fell, his head shaking. “No! I didn’t?—”

Dazzling light burst through every crevice of the trunk; the exposed surface roots blindingly bright. Everyone covered their faces, the beams too intense to behold. My heart pounded, and the air was sucked from my lungs. The man shrieked, and I knew the chilling sound would never leave my memory. Then, all at once, the radiance was absorbed into the tree, and everyone stared, wide-eyed, at the scene before us.

All that was left of the Druik was a cloud of twinkling cinder in the shape of his form. As the glow of it dwindled, the dust gently fell to the moss. A flower-scented breeze brushed against my cheek, rustling my hair and carrying away the rest of the ash. I felt sick, deep within my very soul.

“The Elysium Tree has spoken. Is your team prepared to compete with only three?” Melina’s dulcet voice rang through the shocked silence as her hands clasped in front of her chest. It wasn’t a question. The three remaining competitors bobbed their heads, mouths hanging open. Silently, they went back to their designated spot. “Marvelous. Let’s get on with the final team. Ryboas?”

Breena turned to me, grasping my hand. She placed her other hand on Rhaegar’s shoulder. Looking at each of us, she whispered, “Last chance. Yay or nay?” Her tone was sincere, lines crinkling around her eyes. I knew she would be all right if any of us backed out. I tucked my lips between my teeth, lifting my chin and staring at the vivid canopy and swaying vines above.

Counting to five, I breathed in and out, my fingers flexing in time with my breaths. We needed to do this. For all the people we cared about at home.

“I’m in.”

“Same,” Kaden replied.

Rhaegar nodded, and a wide grin swept across Breena’s face. We moved to the center. Gavrel’s brow furrowed, his eyes closed and skin tight across his cheeks and jaw. Ryboas began his speech, but I was distracted as Melina licked her lips, leaning into the commander.

I clamped my molars together and looked at Ryboas as he finished, “… rooted in our beginning and our end.”

We all held our hands out simultaneously. Ryboas cut across our palms, marking us for certain misfortunes ahead. I grimaced at the sharp tinge of pain and stared at the ruby liquid pooling in my hand. Before I could change my mind, I pressed my fingertips into it, feeling it slip along my skin, staining it.

As our promises plummeted to the earth, energy zipped from my scar. Down through my legs, it melded into the ground as our blood sank into the moss. The buried roots glowed, pulsing and shining under the earth, inching toward me. My iridescent aura flared around me, nuzzling the blessed ember flickering beneath my feet. The tree’s power tingled through my limbs, dancing with mine. It felt welcoming. Eager to connect and share its secrets.

Kaden, Breena, and Rhaegar gathered closely behind me. I smiled, letting them know I was all right. My fingers, still wet with blood, uncurled. My hand stretched toward the tree, wanting to commune with it as if it were a long-lost friend. A twirling halo buzzed along my skin as the tree’s energy shimmered around my body in a radiant embrace.

In response, my aura brightened. I closed my eyes, savoring the connection. The weight of something filled my palm, my fingers curling around it without thought. My arm settled at my side as I opened my eyes, gaze fixated on the tree’s glittering luster. The trunk illuminated and almost sighed briefly. Around my body, its ember dissipated into the air in a burst of twinkling sparks. My aura sputtered, sinking back within me.

I turned to my team and found them gaping at me—along with everyone else. Kaden ran his hand through his hair, letting his hand rest on the back of his neck before it fell to his side. He looked at my hand. “Seryn?—”

“I … I …” Stammering, I clenched my hands into fists, realizing I was still gripping something solid. I gulped, taking in what it was.

Morpheus’ dagger.

I held the weapon in front of me, its dark blade glinting. My blood, melting into the burnished hilt, disappeared entirely. Coiling, iridescent mist languidly filled the stunning diamond. When finished, it resembled a liquefied version of my aura, swirling and glittering within the faceted globe. I blinked in disbelief.

“Woman, that blade nearly sliced off Ash’s hand trying to get to you,” Breena whispered enthusiastically.

My mouth dropped open, forgetting how to speak.

Gavrel positioned himself behind Kaden. Concern etched into his face, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The glow of his rune diminished as he grasped his drawn sword at his side. He lifted his tense jaw, strands of dark waves falling over his forehead. He sheathed his blade and then left the way he had arrived without a word.

Staring at me, Melina looked surprisingly bemused, her head tipping to one side; a fingernail tapping the pressed seam of her lips. She squinted her eyes at me and then followed after Gavrel, her dark dress slithering behind her.

Ryboas’ brow wrinkled, a tinge of red flashing over his glassy eyes, his lips pressed flat. He seemed to catch himself and relaxed as he looked at his empty hand and back at me. He closed his fingers, making a fist. He didn’t demand the dagger back. “It would seem that the Weeding has commenced,” he barked, stepping closer to me.

His stale breath brushed my cheek as he rasped, “That dagger hasn’t chosen anyone in centuries. Do be careful, Ms. Vawn. We wouldn’t want anything … untoward … to befall you.” He sniffed, one nostril tipping up, and then marched off, scattering a line of golden petals as he barged through them.