ONE #4
When I was a child, my mother spun stories of witches who transformed into oscens.
They flew to the heavens as the giant black birds to listen to the Stars whisper their secrets.
When I was only a bit older, Broderic told me the witches turned into birds to steal children from their beds.
I had nightmares for weeks. Mom made him sit up with me as punishment.
She said they were only stories. Only birds.
Still, oscens have been hunted to near extinction. People believe they’re a sign of bad luck. I never thought I would see one.
I really wish I wasn’t seeing one now.
A cold sweat breaks across my skin, making me shiver in the night air.
My palms grow slippery, and my grip on the knife falters.
I catch it as it slips down without thinking and gasp, the blade slicing open my palm.
I pass the dagger to my other hand. The wound is just deep enough to spill blood.
Nothing serious, even though it stings like seven hells.
I clench my hand tightly to stop the bleeding. I’ll deal with it later.
There’s a rustle of red cloak as the bishop shifts forward. He doesn’t come any closer, but heat blooms on my cheeks. Having an audience is only making this worse.
Get it over with.
I feel eyes boring into me as I inch toward the altar. It hardens my resolve, even though my stomach is still churning.
I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’ve held a lamb while my father slit its throat, felt it thrash for survival, go still, and then helped cook it to feed our family.
Before that day, we provided and cared for it.
It didn’t know not to trust us when we came for the slaughter.
But we made its end swift. A kind but necessary death. Everything about this feels wrong.
It’s a crime to cage a wild thing.
My chest tightens, trying to confine my racing heart like it’s inside that golden cage.
Trembling, I unlock the hinge with my injured hand and clutch the dagger behind my back in my other.
The clasp pops open with a slight hiss of released magic. Opening the door, I will the oscen to fly away, but it continues to watch me like it’s here to observe me as well.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur and reach inside.
The bird bumps its beak against the blood that’s now smeared across my whole hand.
What comes next is easy. Or it should be. I don’t even need the knife. Grab it by the neck like a chicken. A quick twist. Fast and clean.
That’s all I need to do.
But the oscen climbs onto my wrist, claws scraping my skin. Not the behavior of a wild animal, but one that’s been tamed.
Broken.
Something cracks inside me as I draw it out of the cage.
I tighten my hold on the dagger’s hilt, feeling every unnecessary jewel dig like teeth into my palm.
Such a beautiful weapon for such an ugly deed.
No wonder the man from Leontia kept wiping his hands.
Some stains aren’t visible outside one’s own soul.
The Petition demands evidence I’m ready to step into my new life. Apparently, by taking another life.
Do what needs to be done.
The vesper’s words echo in my head. Instructions that feel like a curse.
Resolve blazes through me until I’m sure I’ll combust, and I move my arm, drawing the bird closer, looking into its curious eyes.
There’s no other choice.
I know what’s expected of me.
I know what I must do.
I move on instinct.
“Fly,” I whisper and fling my arm up.
Wings stretch. Beat. Soar.
I drop the dagger on the altar with a clang as the oscen surges toward the stars overhead and disappears through the opening. Relief washes through me.
One of the knights makes a choked noise that I’d almost swear was a laugh, but my gaze stays on the clouds drifting over the constellations above. I don’t look away until I’m certain the creature is gone, and then I look at him.
At the twin swords strapped to his back and peeking over his broad shoulders. A shiver races down my spine. His hood still shadows his face, but the smirk from before flattens into a grim line.
“You were expected to kill it.” His voice is low and raspy, each word drawn out like an executioner delivering a slow death.
Fear climbs up my throat, but I swallow it back. Lifting my chin, I shrug, the movement braver than I feel. “I decided not to.”
I brace for punishment. For refusing to make the sacrifice. For speaking like that to a man like him.
But the bishop turns his face away from me, and my cheeks flame. It’s a subtle dismissal, and it cuts to my core. I’m not even worth the effort of a reprimand.
I don’t hear the vesper approach, and I startle when her hand rests gently on my arm. “You’re done here.”
Yes, I probably am.
We descend the stairs in silence, our feet carrying us more quickly than before.
Part of me wants to slow down. Nothing good awaits me on the other side of tonight.
But I also need to put distance between him and me.
The thought of the bishop chases me down the stairs until my head is spinning.
The vesper matches my pace, clearly ready to be rid of me.
She doesn’t look at me once as we wind our way to the exit.
I botched my ritual, but there’s no blood on my hands. Apart from my own. Still, something unspoken and oily churns inside me. It spills out when we reach the door.
“I know I failed, but—”
“The Petition isn’t a test,” she cuts me off. Finally, she looks at me, but she might as well be wearing a mask. “You can’t fail it. You only had to make a choice.”
Maybe it’s meant to soothe me. It doesn’t.
I glance at the stairs. “Is that why he let me leave without making the sacrifice?”
She doesn’t need to ask who I mean. “You aren’t the only one capable of mercy.”
A pit hollows in my stomach, any lingering relief leaking away as her fingers close over the door handle.
She yanks it open, blasting us both with cold night air.
It whips my cheeks raw as I step out to find the other initiates gathered at the edge of the colonnade, shouting and gesturing to the sky.
“Use that mercy wisely, Arden Icaros,” she whispers before continuing toward the steps to claim her next victim.
I follow her to the others, and the blond from Order Calix turns to me with shining eyes. He points to a black shadow circling overhead. “It’s an omen!”
The oscen flies higher, rising to a black swath of night not even the Stars dare to breach. I’d thought nothing of the row of caged birds as I approached the astrolatory. They’ll just send for another bird. My chest tightens with the urge to run and set them all free.
“Wish me luck,” he says as the vesper shepherds him toward the door.
The words stick in my throat, so I nod before he disappears into the astrolatory.
We’re all here because the king wants a spectacle. I didn’t expect to be the one to give it to him. I stare into the night with the others as the wind kicks up. It rips through my thin gown and bites into my bare skin.
But I’m no longer cold.