Chapter 33 #2
Forbidden to speculate? That explained why none of the scholars discussed it—despite the Heir being brought up in every damned class—why the ritual wasn’t explored in temple, and why she hadn’t stumbled across details in all her readings.
Twyla mistook Audra’s crestfallen expression and clasped both of her hands in Twyla’s smaller ones, squeezing them as though they were the best of friends. “Don’t despair, Audra. You have a higher chance than most of being Heir!”
Audra twisted her face into what she hoped resembled mild, rekindled hope, not blind terror. “How’s that?”
Twyla glanced toward the closed door and leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.
“I shouldn’t say, but well, I’ve heard rumors—Priestess Nyrah, the scholars, the Archmagistra herself, all hypothesize the Heir will be revealed from within Arcane Guild.
In fact, they’re counting on it—why do you think I was overjoyed to see that my initiate was assigned to Arcane? ”
Despite her attempt to whisper, Twyla’s voice elevated with excitement.
“The Chorus would never admit it, of course, but we acolytes suspect that the gods would surely favor the acolyte whose initiate turns out to be Heir—they might one day be called as an Echo herself!”
The girl ducked her head in sudden guilt.
“Of course, we would never be upset if it wasn’t us.
Serving the gods as a priestess is just as important as being an Echo.
The gods favor us all.” She patted Audra.
“Even you are favored, Audra.” Her lip trembled, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears.
“To have been saved from a magic-less existence and brought to Zenaida, the most blessed of all nations. You are surely favored.”
“Yes. What a blessing this has been.” To have been ripped from her life, taken from her ailing father, her younger brother, who still needed her, to surely have left her parents’ dream to crumble into the sea.
So, Twyla didn’t have the answers she needed, and it was clear that if Twyla even suspected Audra was the Heir, the acolyte would turn her over in a heartbeat.
Her foolish heart was in the right place, as she clearly viewed being Heir as an honor, a blessing bestowed by the very gods she’d dedicated her life to.
Maybe it was, maybe Audra’s misgivings were truly unfounded.
Maybe she should come clean to Twyla right now, tell her everything … Would that be easier than living this lie? Hiding everything wrong with her every single day from every living soul?
And, she thought bitterly, even the dead souls.
“One quick question, and then I’ll let you return to the tarnished silver—what exactly is the Chorus of Echoes?” She needed to find out how to steer clear of the Echoes; if they were as powerful as Twyla made them seem, they might see Audra’s secret in a vision.
“Oh, I can see why you’re confused, and I thank you for asking so I may relay this to Mother Brula, as it’s imperative we impart all our wisdom to the initiates so you may accept the light of the gods in full.
” She settled into the prayer pillow. “All girls with the gift of Sight enter the order as children.” She puffed with pride.
“My Sight came early; I had barely celebrated my fifth nameday when it happened—and to be born in Desolate Winter as I was! Nobody in my village could believe it. Straight to the temple for me. My parents were so proud.”
She waved a hand in the air.
“You look sad. I wanted to come. This is my local temple. We used to come here every month for worship; I’m from Green Barrow, the village down the road?
” She pointed at the wall, like the village Audra had briefly passed through to arrive at Holyvere Academy would appear right before their eyes.
“My parents come to visit often and bring my sisters.” A frown.
“They weren’t blessed with the Sight, not like me. ”
“Your family visits?” She’d not seen anyone who hadn’t worked on the grounds. She would have noticed if fae children were running around.
“Well, that was before the gates were locked, of course, on account of the initiates.”
Audra nodded. She’d assumed the gates were locked, but it was convenient that Twyla confirmed it. Twyla continued. “Can’t have just anyone coming and going, what with the potential Heir being here and us not knowing who they are yet.”
Twyla smiled. “Oops, I’m rambling—Anyway, most acolytes will one day become ordained priestesses—we perform religious rites all around the country and sometimes even in neighboring nations.
But only the most devout, those with the most talent for Seeing, are chosen to join the Chorus of Echoes.
The Echoes, you see, are the ones gifted with the vision of the Heir; they are the ones tasked with raising the baby in the light of the gods and preparing them for the sacred rite. ”
“So, are the priestesses here the Echoes?”
Twyla winced. “Chorus of Echoes, please; I don’t want to be chastised for encouraging my initiate to use such a … familiar term.”
“Of course, apologies.”
She perked back up. “Our temple is blessed to house six Chorus of Echoes at our Temple! They wouldn’t usually deign to come to such a modest temple, but because of the”—she winked at Audra—“special circumstances of housing the potential Heir, they are here to oversee the semester. So that when the Heir is discovered, they might whisk them right away to the Prophetic Temple.” Twyla’s slight shoulders curved inward, her expression turning mournful.
“They have so much lost time to make up for. I can’t imagine how awful they must feel that the Heir was born in the wrong realm and missed being raised in the light, in the Chorus of Echoes’ loving embrace. ”
This was all too much.
Loving embrace?
The Echoes might have offered a loving embrace to the precious baby Heirs of the past and might even offer the same luxury to whatever mistaken adult version they expect to discover here at Holyvere.
But something told Audra that that loving embrace would turn into shackles the moment the Heir decided not to follow their edicts or bend a knee to their covetous gods.