Prologue #2
“Andilyn Adams, you’re hereby promised to the Order of Veritas.
Under oath of fealty, you will serve this commune as our Divine intended you to.
Should you stray or backslide, your souls be damned.
” My strangled inhale was unmissable in the otherwise silence, but I refused to look away from Kennedy.
My brain had already deduced that he was the most dangerous person in the room.
Extending his arm to the side, he took the items being offered by another member.
From my peripheral vision, I noted a dense, dirt-colored fabric of some sort, along with a crudely carved knife.
Before I could properly panic, he slipped behind me and cut a clean line down the back of my bright yellow sundress.
It was the nicest thing I’d ever owned, and as it pooled to the floor around my feet, it was like the sun itself had been stripped away, leaving nothing but darkness in its absence.
No one batted an eye at my sudden lack of clothing, and I was too stunned to do anything but stand there and gape at the crowd.
My parents’ gazes were fixated on the floor, refusing to watch the resulting consequences of their horrifically poor judgment.
Their shame was palpable, making me realize our chance encounter with Kennedy was likely never chance at all.
The next face I sought out was Tobias’, the one and only person I’d truly connected with since arriving.
Kennedy’s son.
He looked just the same as he always did–curly blond hair, arctic blue eyes, regal and poised in a way I’d envied since the day we met.
But where a warm smile usually met my unabashed staring, his face was wiped of all emotion.
He seemed to have perfected a mask of indifference in the span of a few hours, making me question everything–from our first encounter to this very moment.
Was he playing a part to appease his father, or was this version the real Tobias?
A cold, robotic sheep, willing to do whatever’s been asked of him without any pushback.
I glared hotly at the boy I’d considered a friend, funneling every ounce of my confusion and hurt into a scathing look of betrayal.
Maybe it had been ignorant of me to place so much of my trust in a person I’d only known for such a short time, because it’d become abundantly clear that no one was incapable of duplicity, least of all my own parents.
A million questions flooded my mind, leaving me lightheaded and desperate for an exit strategy to miraculously make itself known.
It felt like time was standing still, and then Kennedy draped the heavy material he’d been holding over my body, giving me something else to focus on besides the panic flooding my nervous system.
As I cataloged my new attire, I realized I’d seen it before.
Those with dichromatic eyes wore the same drab sheath.
I’d naively thought it was something meant to be used while working the more physically laborious jobs.
Foolish me for not putting the pieces together and recognizing that no one else was clothed even remotely the same.
“Our Divine has chosen and found you worthy of redemption. Walk carefully, Harbinger, lest you slip from his graces for good.” Quicker than I could track, Kennedy brought the makeshift knife to my mouth and pressed the sharpened blade against my lips.
Blood dripped from the faint cut he made, the sight of my own life force making me dizzy.
As the crowd began to chant quietly, heat flooded my body, a visceral reaction to the incredulous scene playing out before my very eyes–eyes that were the bane of my current predicament, as I’d soon come to learn.
I was completely oblivious to what they were saying, too focused on remaining conscious, but the tail end of their murmuring finally caught my attention.
“...those who walk a path of righteousness and ardently pursue redemption shall find favor amongst the Divine’s chosen Seekers.
Let your Cleansing commence.” Silence descended as every person in the room bowed their head, unwilling to do or say anything until instructed otherwise.
My breathing had grown so ragged it was a miracle I hadn’t fainted from a lack of oxygen.
“Please proceed as normal. And do remember,” Kennedy stated. “Watchful is the Eye…”
“...And the Eye is thee,” his congregation of followers responded in unison.
Like soldiers, they rose and left The Atrium, leaving me all alone.
I’d sunk to my knees, attempting to make sense of what transpired, but it was a pointless endeavor to try and rationalize what could only be categorized as clinically insane.
Their hive mentality was terrifying, and I was certain it’d been Kennedy’s intent to flaunt his control, for his show of power to make it abundantly clear who held the reins and wore the bastardized crown in his corrupted kingdom.
Hours later, Tobias found me in the same spot, my body stiff and achy from a lack of movement.
Tears filled my eyes, the hurt overflowing from the knowledge that my own parents couldn’t be bothered to comfort me, much less explain themselves and their lack of concern over Veritas’ seedy underbelly being exposed.
I’d long ago accepted that Danny and Prissy weren’t ever going to be doting or affectionate, but the sense of abandonment I felt was so crushing, it was difficult to breathe.
I was a maelstrom of opposing emotions, and as much as I wanted to take comfort in Tobias’ presence, I was terrified to trust the version of him I’d come to know.
I desperately wanted to unleash the full force of my anger, but I didn’t have the willpower to follow through with it.
Even the slimmest possibility of him being a potential ally meant it was much too risky to isolate myself.
So as he brushed the sweat-slicked hair off my face and whispered apologies for being incapable of intervening, I made a spur-of-the-moment judgment call and chose to believe that he was genuinely remorseful.
That he loathed having his hands tied, and it was simply his age and eagle-eyed father that kept us from leaving then and there.
He promised to keep me safe, by any means necessary, and gullible as it might’ve been, I believed him.
Knowing Tobias is just as disturbed as I am by Veritas’ unhinged dogma helps to reinforce the trust we’ve built over the years.
As soon as it’s safe and the opportunity presents itself, we plan to free every person they’ve taken and held against their will.
I’ve left the logistics of our exit up to him, but after today’s Claiming ceremony, I fear that day needs to happen sooner rather than later.
I’m not sure I possess the strength it requires to continue biting my tongue, pretending I feel anything but disgust every time I’m forced to interact with Kennedy Stillwater.
I’d love nothing more than to divulge my true sentiments regarding this hellacious existence he and his ancestors have manufactured as justification for being such vile human beings, but that would effectively undo any progress we’ve made to escape their control.
When I finally break through the brush and the eastern corner of the compound comes into view, a sigh of relief parts my lips.
Glancing around the clearing, confusion knits my brows together when Tobias is nowhere to be found.
He knows me better than anyone, so I have no doubt he’s aware this is the place I’d seek comfort from.
It can be disconcerting at times, how attuned he is to my every move, even when I’m certain his focus is elsewhere.
I turn my gaze skyward, noting the sun is starting to set.
Trusting that Tobias will join me shortly, I decide to wait him out.
As memories of today’s Claiming ceremony swirl around my mind, my nose wrinkles at the pungent scent of charred wood and ash still clinging to my clothes.
Without conscious thought, I’ve started pacing, causing the hem of my dress to drag along the forest floor.
My need to do something is making me restless, but it's the heartbreaking knowledge of just how powerless I am that makes my shoulders slump in defeat. I’d long ago erected a wall to protect my empathetic nature, but these past four years have hardened parts of me that should’ve stayed soft.
As much as I want to have the same optimistic outlook that Tobias has, my time with Veritas has made me jaded.
They have a way of crippling what little faith you’ve been clinging to.
Taking a seat on the fallen tree Tobias fashioned into a makeshift bench, I press my fingers to my temples to ease the ache that’s beginning to build.
It succumbed to rot several months ago, like most things confined by the impenetrable concrete walls surrounding us.
Picking at a piece of the crumbling bark, I blank my mind, trying my best to let the events from earlier fade from memory.
It works, at least for a little while, and I’m lost in the numbness I’ve allowed to permeate my thoughts when my finger grazes the singed flesh along my wrist. The flare of pain makes me flinch, dragging me back to the present far sooner than I’d have liked.