Page 3 of Twisted Truths (The Sunburnt Hearts #4)
Chapter Two
HADLEY
I keep my head bowed during Ignatius Solomon’s sermon, folding my hands tightly in my lap to hide the shaking. My breathing is shallow as I fight to remain calm.
No one knows.
I’m safe.
No one knows.
I’m safe.
Repeating my mantra, I stay in the reverent position as Guardian Solomon’s voice reverberates through the brightly lit chapel, each word like a weight pressing down on my chest. The congregation kneels in perfect silence, all of them hanging on his every word.
I keep my gaze locked on the cold, stone floor.
No one knows.
I’m safe.
My secret gnaws at me, twisting inside me and knotting my stomach, but I bury it deep. The elders think they have full control of all of us, but they don’t. Not anymore.
Guardian Solomon’s voice his smooth and hypnotic as he speaks of purity and sacrifice. Since I’m no longer under his spell, I allow my mind to drift. It’s only been forty-eight hours. I remain patient, knowing she’s coming back for me. She promised.
No one knows.
I’m safe.
For now.
I press my palms into my lap, feeling the tremor, the fear, the guilt. On the third Tuesday of every month, I sit through Guardian Solomon’s homily and keep my head down. It’s been three years, and I’ve managed to stay off their radar. Even Seraphina seems to have forgotten I’m here.
My luck will run out soon. I feel it in my bones.
Next week, on the twenty-third of August, is my twenty-first birthday.
It’s the age of enlightenment, meaning I’ll be eligible for the next Awakening.
She told me what comes next, even though it’s against the rules. She warned me.
Be careful, avoid their attention, and trust no one. Once they set you in their sights, your life becomes theirs.
But not for her. Not anymore. She left.
She’ll be back for me when it’s safe.
I am safe.
I have to believe it.
The walls of the chapel feel like they’re closing in.
The heat from the lit sconces along the wall burns my skin.
Sweat drips down my brow, but I don’t dare move to brush it away.
The slightest movement will bring unwanted attention, and I need to remain invisible.
If I’m going to survive, I mustn’t draw notice.
Guardian Solomon’s tone becomes more upbeat as he chants, “We are the Circle. We are the flame.”
We respond in unison. “From the flame, we are reborn. Circle of fire, circle of light. We stand as one, through the darkest of nights.”
The air is sucked from the room as Aziah Solomon joins his father at the altar. We wait with bated breath, knowing the announcement of the next Awakening is still to come.
All females are to remain pure until their twenty-first birthday.
That’s when we’re eligible for the Chosen ceremony, where we may be married off to one of Guardian Solomon’s four sons—Gabriel, Aziah, Isaac, and Judah—when they become of age to take a wife.
They expect the Chosen to fall pregnant with the next generation of the Circle within a year.
If they do not fall pregnant in that time, they’re sent for Purification.
Then they’ll be remarried to another man from the congregation, or they can choose to become an ascendent, tasked with overseeing and guiding the next group of girls close to the age of Awakening.
Judah and Isaac are the most preferred of the brothers.
At seventeen and nineteen, they’re the kindest of the brothers, although that’s probably because they’re not of age yet.
They are often seen lending a helping hand with everyday chores.
Though they’re beneath their status, they do it with joy and laughter.
Aziah is the quietest of the four and often wanders the property in solitude. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the twenty-one-year-old smile in the three years I have been here.
Gabriel is the one to watch out for. The eldest of the brothers at twenty-four, he has a wicked temper. Rumour says he’s rough behind closed doors, but his Chosen never confirmed or denied it. She refused to speak of what went on in the privacy of their home.
Now that she has left the Circle, he will take another Chosen .
Bile rises in the back of my throat. I will be eligible next month. I have to stay out of his way.
Not that Seraphina will allow me to become his Chosen.
“Trista White.” Guardian Solomon’s voice rings out with reverence, pulling me from my thoughts. “The deities have spoken, and you have been Chosen for the Awakening. Come join me, child, and accept your fate.”
There’s a shuffling of feet to my right, but I don’t raise my head. I’m terrified of what I’ll see in her eyes, and unsure I’ll be able to hide what’s in mine. For Trista, there is no escape. Her time has come.
“No!” A male voice pierces through the room, and my head jerks up in shock. To the left of me, a dark-haired guy about my age is on his feet, hands fisted by his sides as he stares at the girl at the front of the room. “Trista, no.” His last plea is guttural.
My eyes move to Trista, who has tears streaming down her face.
Aziah’s dark eyes flash with anger, but Guardian Solomon’s face remains impassively calm as he clicks his fingers.
Two of his trusted sentinels step forward to drag the young man out of the room.
He continues to call out for Trista, and while tears still streak her face, she keeps her gaze trained on the ground as Guardian Solomon approaches her.
“My child,” he says in a soothing tone, but it’s hard not to miss the undeniable edge that speaks to his power.
Trista trembles as he tilts her chin until she’s looking at him.
“It is unfortunate that I must ask this of you, and I want you to answer with honesty in your mouth and divine light in your heart. Are you still pure?”
Trista swallows hard before answering. “Y-yes, Guardian Solomon.”
He frowns, studying her face. “You understand the consequences should Aziah find you to be untruthful in this declaration?”
It’s against the rules for the congregation to fraternise with each other before the Chosen females are Awakened. Should they be found to be impure, they will be cast out.
“Yes, Guardian Solomon.” The whispered response carries like an echo through the silent chapel.
Our leader flicks his gaze to his son, who gives a sharp nod.
“Very well.” He turns back to address the congregation, but my gaze remains firmly set on Seraphina, who has stepped forward to place a woven veil over Trista’s pale face.
“Trista White, may you be blessed with the Awakening. As the veil of purity falls, a new dawn shall arise. You are the vessel through which the Light will pass, the whisper of the divine in flesh. You, who carry the essence of the Circle, shall guide them in ways unseen, nurturing the growth of those who are yet to come. May your journey lead them to their purpose.”
“As the fire rekindles, you shall Awaken and carry the essence of the Circle,” we respond in unison without missing a beat.
Guardian Solomon holds out his hand to Seraphina, and the two of them lead the way down the middle aisle as Aziah repeats the gesture for his new Chosen. Once they leave the chapel, we file out silently, row after row, and head back to our dwellings.
I share a modest three-bedroom cabin with three other women my age—Brielle, Samantha, and Gianna—and our overseer, Ascendant Sierra. No one dares say a word about what happened at the awakening as we return to our rooms.
No one knows.
I am safe.