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Rhea

E very child looks forward to their Cleansing. I wasn’t the exception.

That day, the crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as I skipped along the sidewalk, my new dress swirling around my ankles. My mother’s hand, warm and comforting, held mine tightly, her smile as bright as the sun peeking through the leaves of the trees overhead. Today was the day! The day I would finally become part of the real world, the day I would leave behind the carefree ranks of childhood and join adulthood.

I couldn’t wait to see what awaited me beyond the familiar path, what wonders lay hidden behind the imposing gates of the Cleansing Authority. My heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and… fear. No one had explained exactly what would happen. They just said I would meet the Neutro, and then we’d go home. But that couldn’t be all, could it?

As we walked further away from home, a chill crept down my spine. The trees along the street seemed to whisper a warning, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. My excitement died down.

“Can we go another day, Mama?” I asked.

My mother’s smile faltered, and I saw a flicker of worry in her eyes. She squeezed my hand a little tighter. Then, I didn’t understand why my parents had told me that I should never look into people’s thoughts, that it was rude. More important yet, they drilled into me that I should never tell anyone that I could hear their Whispers , as I used to call them. My understanding would soon change.

“We can’t go another day, Darling. We have an appointment we must keep. But this will be done before you know it.”

I tried to shake off the mounting unease, attempting to regain my original excitement, but the whispers of the trees seemed to grow louder, and my mother looked so nervous. As we reached the imposing gates of the Cleansing Authority, their iron bars casting long, eerie shadows, I whimpered. Dread filled me, and it only got worse when we stepped into a gloomy room where a spindly man with long-fingered hands awaited.

When he asked my mother to leave, I started crying and refused to calm down until he said she could stay. He sat me across from him, a narrow table between us, and took my small hands in his clammy ones.

The Neutro’s unsettling gaze bored into mine. His long, pale fingers, almost translucent, tightened around my hands. A shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold, but from a strange tingling sensation that seemed to emanate from his touch. It was as if he was reaching into me with some unseen force.

My breath hitched in my throat. It felt wrong, utterly wrong. As if I were an insect being pinned to a board, he examined me, dissected me. His probing power seemed to pierce through my skin, searching for something hidden deep within. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging in painfully.

A low hum vibrated through the room, emanating from the Neutro. As the hum intensified, the tingling sensation grew stronger, spreading through my body like a jolt of static electricity. I felt dizzy, disoriented, defiled.

The Neutro leaned closer, his breath hot and stale on my face. His eyes, now glowing with an eerie inner light, seemed to delve deeper, searching for something, something I didn’t understand. Terror gripped my heart. I wanted to scream, to run, but I was paralyzed, trapped in the grip of the Neutro’s invisible power.

—She’s a Weaver!

The man’s Whisper cut through my mind with sharp precision, even though I’d been guarding against listening for a while. He sounded delighted.

—You can do it, Mortimer. Come on, your first Weaver.

The delight turned to hesitation.

—The Superintendent knows nothing. You’re ready for this.

The hesitation grew, accompanied by a measure of fear.

—You don’t need to stop, don’t need to call anyone for assistance. If something goes wrong, no one will care. Not about this nobody child. Do it!

His boldness mounted despite many warning Whispers blaring inside his mind.

Pain exploded across my body as he tried to rip me apart, tried to steal something that belonged to me. I couldn’t allow it. On pure instinct, my wind power fought back, and I found myself in a maelstrom, furniture tossed about the room, while the Neutro—face contorted in a mask of fury—held me by the throat. I could barely breathe, my vision blurring as I struggled against his iron grip.

“Mother!” I screamed, seeing her through the whirlwind, her face pale with terror as she tried to reach me.

She called my name, her voice lost in the cacophony of the storm. I could see the fear in her eyes, the desperation.

“Help me, Mother.”

I thrashed against the Neutro’s hold, my wind magic surging through me, desperate to break the man’s hold. But he was strong, and his grip tightened, cutting off my air supply. My consciousness was slipping away, the world fading to black. He was going to kill me or worse… steal part of who I was and leave me ruined. Then it happened, Cindergrasp took hold of my mind-reading power. I felt his glee as he tightened his hold on it and yanked, trying to rip it out from its very roots.

“NO!” I lashed out, blasting out every bit of me to stop him.

Wind Spears erupted from my hands, Wind Spears that shot in every direction and impaled themselves in the ceiling, the walls, the door, and my mother’s swollen belly.

* * *

I’m on my knees on the ground. A keening sound fills my ears. It takes me a moment to realize it’s my own voice, my pain-filled voice clawing its way from my throat in a raw cry that echoes the gaping wound in my soul. The agony is so deep, it feels like my bones are shattering.

— It will be all right, little one. Zephyros’s touch attempts to soothe me, but all I see is red, and my mother’s startled eyes, wide with disbelief and dawning horror, as she holds her pregnant belly and falls to her knees.

— It was not your fault.

Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess.

I rock, hugging my knees, forehead scraping the ground as I move back and forth. My stomach convulses. Each movement is a fresh wave of nausea. Bile rises in my throat. I’m repulsed by the poison of my own power, by what I am.

“She was pregnant,” I wail. “She was pregnant. Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess, take me.” I can’t bear this pain. I can’t. It’s tearing up my insides. The reality of it all crashes down on me, a massive weight that steals my will to live.

“Take me!” I beg again, raising my head to the dark sky and baring my throat in a raw plea. “TAKE ME!”

Sobs wrack my body. My father was right to blame me. I took so much from him. So much. His wife, his unborn child. And in the end, he was left to raise the culprit, the monster who never even remembered the extent of what she’d done, the immense loss she’d caused. He will never forgive me.

Oh, Goddess! If there was a way to go back and repair all I destroyed.

Trembling, I remove my mother’s ring from my finger and drop it to the ground. I don’t deserve to wear it. I robbed her of life, of happiness. I killed the glowing smiles she bestowed on my father when she rubbed her belly. I bloodied the hands that never finished the yellow knit cap and socks. I killed the child who would have held the silver rattle my father put in my drawer, his wordless accusation and reminder of what I did.

I’m dimly aware of people around me, watching, judging, but I don’t care. All I want is to disappear, to be swallowed whole.

As if in response, the earth beneath me trembles, the tremor quickly escalating into a full-blown earthquake. The ground heaves and cracks. My mates scream in terror, thrown off their feet. Dust fills the air, further darkening the sky. The ground continues to convulse, and at last, the world breaks with a deafening crack.

I look up, my eyes widening in disbelief, tears spilling down my cheeks. The towering peak above us, a silent sentinel that has stood there for centuries, is splitting in two.

A fissure, deep and gaping, opens up in the mountainside, revealing a deep chasm. From within, an eerie light begins to emanate, casting an otherworldly glow over our camp. The light intensifies, pulsating, illuminating the dust-choked sky with an unnatural radiance.

Everyone stares, their curses drowned out by the roar of the mountain splitting apart and the rocks and debris tumbling down.

Disoriented and terrified, I struggle to rise, my ears ringing. The light from the chasm grows brighter, casting long, dancing shadows across the ruined landscape. It feels as if the very fabric of reality is tearing apart, and I am caught in the middle, a helpless witness to the apocalypse.

Slowly, the tremors subside, leaving behind a deep silence broken only by my labored breaths. Vaylen, who has been thrown to his knees, rises, looking at me with wide eyes. He appears more than confused. He looks like someone who doesn’t understand how the world functions anymore.

“What the fuck is that?” Silas murmurs.

Vaylen and I break eye contact and follow Silas’s gaze. Something moves in the depths of the fissure. It crawls out of the glowing maw, a silhouette quickly taking shape.

A man!

The figure is tall and imposing, cloaked in shadows. His face is obscured, yet I sense a wave of immense power emanating from it, chilling me to the bone.

He surveys us, his gaze sweeping across our terrified faces. I feel the moment his eyes alight on me and remain there. A cold dread grips my heart as I feel an ancient, unknowable force scan me from head to toe. The man remains motionless, his presence filling the air with a palpable sense of dread. Time seems to slow down, each heartbeat echoing in the oppressive silence.

The figure raises his hand, and the light from the chasm intensifies, bathing us in an ethereal glow. Then, he speaks, his voice booming like thunder, echoing across the shattered landscape.

“She is mine,” he declares, pointing at me, the words resonating with authority. “A new era dawns.”

He sweeps an arm out, and a gust of wind, more powerful than any I have ever witnessed, erupts from the chasm. It sweeps across the land, lifting debris and sending my mates crouching. I am caught in the whirlwind, my body lifted effortlessly from the ground.

“Rhealyn,” Vaylen tries to catch me, but can’t reach me. Thrusting his arms, he tries to use his own wind power to haul me back, but he’s not strong enough.

I struggle against the invisible force, but it is futile. I’m drawn towards the chasm, the blinding light growing closer. The man, his face still obscured, beckons me toward him, his presence as chilling as the power he wields.

As he pulls me close, I glimpse my mates’ faces. Their eyes are wide, their mouths agape. No one but Vaylen tries to save me though, they just watch as the wind takes me away.

Then, I am engulfed by the blinding light, the world disappearing into a kaleidoscope of colors. I feel a strange sense of calm, a certain resignation, as the mountain seals itself shut, and I’m drawn into its depths into the unknown.

CONTINUE RHEA’S ADVENTURE IN

SILVER CLAWS CRIMSON TEARS