Chapter Thirteen
Elysia
The wind is sharper now, cutting through the seams of my cloak, stinging against my cheeks as the wagon rounds the final bend.
Snow dusts the edges of the trail, clinging to the branches of thinning trees and making the dirt road begin to turn to a muddy slush for the horses to clop through.
I tug the scarf tighter beneath my chin, but it does little to shield against the rising chill.
The northern port comes into view. Stone buildings rise in jagged clusters against the icy backdrop, rooftops dusted white, chimneys already exhaling smoke into the sharp sky.
The sun is beginning to slip behind the edge of the mountains as we reach the port city square, casting long shadows across the cobbled plaza.
Wagons and carriages already line the wide expanse, reminding me just how many chosen there will be.
Some are plain and worn, others refined, similar to the stark differences we’d seen between Lisbeth and us.
What really steals my attention is seeing the fabric-draped carriages in soft shades of cream and sage turn into black leather and ash-colored wood.
Those must be from the humans in the western lands beneath the Nithrin clouds.
It’s a strange contrast of wealth and need, of eastern and western lands colliding in one place. No two look the same, but all have arrived for the same purpose.
Thalia’s guard lets out a low whistle from behind us. “Twenty chosen here already.”
“If there’s one chosen per transport,” he adds, glancing around, “we’d bring the total to twenty-three.”
“Should be thirty-six,” Lisbeth says sharply, lifting her hood slightly. “Eighteen from the Dromin east, eighteen from the Nithrin west.”
Her voice holds the steady confidence of someone who’s studied this … who’s learned these numbers like scripture. Perhaps the wealth and blessings in her territory allowed her an advantage with studies as well. There wasn’t time for that in ours, past learning the basics in school.
Her eyes flick to the edge of the plaza, lips tightening. “That is … if they all made it here.”
A silence lingers after her words, colder than the wind. A reminder that she almost didn’t and a harsh reality that we likely weren’t the only ones to face trouble on their way here.
A group of port guards approaches, draped in dark gray cloaks and black armor beneath. One steps forward, scroll in hand.
“Names and territories?”
“Elysia from Edritch,” I answer first, voice low but steady. “Thalia from Gressar. Lisbeth from Celaine.”
The guard nods, marking down the identifications, providing instructions as he does. “You’ll be housed in the offering quarter. The High Priestess will arrive at first light tomorrow for selection rites and inspection.”
Offering … not chosen.
Lisbeth mutters something beneath her breath about failing her inspection because she’s “hideous now” that I choose to ignore.
Another guard joins him, stepping toward Luan and Berrin. “Your escort is dismissed. The offering transition ends here.”
Once again the use of the term “offering” has my brow pinching. It’s a stark change from “chosen,” which felt like a special title. Already the perception of our value and place in this world is changing, and it’s been mere minutes since we arrived.
My stomach twists. I knew this moment would come, but still, it feels like the last thread that is tethering me to home is now being cut loose. I lift my hand and close it around my pendant before lifting my other hand to ensure the ribbon is still safe in my braid.
I still have these.
Luan stiffens, his mouth tightening as if to argue, but I raise a hand gently to stop him.
“I’ll be alright,” I say quietly, but with a firm edge as I jump down from the wagon with my satchel on my shoulder. “You’ve brought me this far.”
He looks unconvinced, his eyes scanning my face for a long beat. “You sure?”
Lisbeth gingerly lowers herself to the ground as Thalia’s soft footfalls approach.
I nod, shocked by the warmth I feel by having those two women at my side. I’d known them for mere days, yet with everything that occurred, it felt like a lifetime.
“Thank you for everything,” I say to my guards, truly meaning it. They had saved our lives.
Luan’s jaw shifts as his lips thin, like he’s not used to kindness. “Be smart. Be safe.”
Berrin offers a small nod, the faintest glint of something warmer behind his stern expression. “Try not to cause too much trouble.”
“No more than usual,” I murmur with a tight, forced smile.
They don’t linger, but I watch them until I can’t anymore, a hollow ache spreading in my chest. I hadn’t realized how safe I’d felt with them until now. Not until I watched that safety walk away.
The port guards direct us to a large, heavy-beamed inn near the far end of the plaza, just past a stone archway marked with the cloud and lightning bolt crest of the empire. The sun dips lower, painting the sky in deep pinks and dark lavender as the inn doors swing open.
Warm light spills out from within and I force myself to take a deep, grounding breath. This is where the chosen are being kept. All of them.
As we step inside, we’re greeted with our new reality. Dozens of women gathered in clusters near the hearth or seated at long tables, voices murmuring, eyes shifting up as we enter. The room goes quiet for a beat.
I know from a quick glance that the room is divided by our homelands.
On one side are those I presume are from the western villages.
Their skin is fairer, almost like a pearl with a shine that reminds me of the moon.
Their hair is darker, sleeker, and their eyes have different hues of storm-gray, shadowed blue, and deep violet.
A few glance our way with veiled curiosity.
A strange buzz settles in my chest, like a hum of unfamiliarity in my bones.
I’m seeing the other side of the empire for the first time, and I wonder what they’ve grown up being told of our lands, like we have theirs.
I expected them to seem more broken, fractured by living with nightmares every night, but they appear … normal. Just like those from our lands.
My elf’s words circle back through my mind.
“You’ve been taught to fear nightmares, but they’re just dreams in a darker mirror. Some think nightmares are a made-up fear, but often they reflect a truth you fear facing.”
Perhaps we don’t understand their lands at all.
The divide is clear in the room, unspoken but absolute.
The chosen from the eastern lands sit on the left side of the room, clustered and whispering excitedly.
The chosen from the west are gathered on the right, quieter and more watchful.
No one sits at the center tables. No one dares to bridge the space between.
Lisbeth tugs gently on my cloak, her voice low. “Let’s go to our side, Elysia.”
Thalia hovers at my side, clearly intending to follow without hesitation, and my heart hums with the warmth of her loyalty. I don’t move … not yet.
I stare at the empty table in the middle, where no one has dared to sit. My heart pounds, and for a long moment, I don’t breathe.
Then I step forward toward that table.
Lisbeth falters. “Elysia, seriously?”
“This is fine,” I say softly, looking back at her as I slide onto the bench. My voice carries just enough for all tables to hear.
A few heads turn. A few eyes narrow. Yet I don’t flinch.
Thalia follows without a word, settling across from me with quiet resolve. A soft smile tugs at her lips and I return it.
Lisbeth lingers, arms crossed, her expression pinched. “You always have to be the better person, don’t you?” she mutters, more sass than malice in her tone.
After a beat, she sighs and drops onto the bench beside me, grumbling under her breath about inconvenient morals and self-righteous choices.
It may be a small act of good faith, a quiet gesture from us, but it’s an invitation that shows I’m willing to know both sides.
A shift of energy in the air occurs as I glance around.
From the corner of my vision, I notice several women from the Nithrin side glancing toward us. One stands slowly, tall and composed, with an unmistakable elegance in the way she moves. Her eyes are the color of storm clouds, her expression unreadable.
A large shadow moves beside her, shocking me that I didn’t notice it until now. It’s a hound, massive and sleek, its coat ink-black, eyes pale silver and gleaming. Its presence is immediate and slightly unnerving.
Lisbeth tenses, her voice sharp as she exclaims, “Gods, what is that?!” Her eyes narrow, calculating, already analyzing the hound like a threat to be assessed, with slight disgust.
Thalia nearly recoils, pressing closer to the edge of the bench.
“Is it safe?” Her voice is breathy, laced with genuine fear.
Her hand trembles slightly where it clutches the edge of the table, and her gaze flicks anxiously between the hound’s eyes and its large paws.
No doubt there are some vicious claws hidden in the thick, wiry hair.
“I think he’s beautiful,” I say truthfully, unable to take my eyes off him.
The girl stops before our table, a faint smile curling her lips. “This is Thayus,” she introduces. “A night-hound. Bred to hunt and guard in the darkest reaches of our lands. Perfect vision in blackness. Fierce when needed. Loyal always.”
I smile at the hound and the woman, appreciating her approaching us so quickly.
She reaches down to run her fingers across the thick fur of his neck. “I’m Virelle. From the territory of Shadefell. We’re known for breeding these pups.”
I lean forward slightly and lift my hand, but halt and ask. “Can I pet him?”
Virelle chuckles, crossing her arms against her chest. “Thayus makes his own decisions, but you can try.”
I extend my hand slowly, fingers open, letting him choose. Thayus sniffs, his breath warm against my skin, and then to my astonishment, he leans into me, a low rumble of contentment vibrating in his chest.
Lisbeth’s mouth parts slightly in disbelief. Even Thalia stares.
“I knew it,” Virelle says, settling onto the bench beside me. “I knew there was something good in you. Thayus confirmed it. He doesn’t take to strangers easily.”
For a moment, a soft thread of hope unfurls in my chest. Perhaps our two sides can coexist while here.
Thayus pads closer and leans his large body against our bench, setting his head on it between Virelle and me. My fingers thread through his fur, appreciating his warmth and the silky texture.
Virelle’s voice lowers, drawing my eyes to hers as they narrow. “I thought I should tell you … there’s been whispers. That not all the chosen made it. That a fellow chosen was responsible for their deaths.”
We all fall still.
“There are fewer from the Dromin side than there should be,” she adds, gaze flicking across the room to where the ten women are hunched together. “The others think it means the threat came from your half of the empire, since our eighteen are here.”
Her words settle like ice between us.
“Be careful tonight when you sleep,” she says simply before pushing back to her feet. “There’s danger here … and it might already be sitting at one of these tables.”
Just like that, the warmth of the fire doesn’t feel so comforting anymore.
Thalia’s and Lisbeth’s gazes settle on me and there’s an unspoken question lingering in the air as Virelle goes back to her table with Thayus at her side: What do we do now?
I take a deep breath before blowing it out gently. My voice is a whisper as I lean in toward the only people I trust here. “I don’t know what the sleeping situation will be, but how do you all feel about sharing a room if they try to split us up?”
A chill runs down the back of my neck and I quickly turn toward the women from our lands, spying a pair of gleaming green eyes settled on me for the briefest of moments before flickering back to the others at her table.
“I think that’s for the best,” Thalia answers with a slight tremble to her voice. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to watch our backs against the other chosen.”
I glance back and find Lisbeth’s eyes trained on the same woman I’d locked onto.
Her voice is flat as she answers, “The first rule that I was taught before coming here is that everyone is in this for themselves and their village. You both defy that rule, but I’m not gullible enough to believe it extends past that. ”
Perhaps I’d misunderstood her originally. Maybe she was just the one among the three of us that had been mentally prepared for the true perils of this journey, and fortified herself with the knowledge that anyone could be an enemy—even us.
I’m not sure who I’ll be facing tomorrow—the Priestess, the selection … or something far darker already sitting across the room.