Chapter 3 #2
The priestess began to chant, her voice high and shrill.
The priest echoing her, a harmony that made my stomach churn with bile.
His voice was silken, each word slithering over my skin like the blade he had held to me so many times.
Their eyes began to glow. My fists clenched beneath the cloak, imagining carving screams from the same mouth that had whispered prayers against my bleeding skin.
“Tonight, we sacrifice to the Gods!” The priest’s voice echoed unnaturally across the clearing, burrowing beneath my skin like an infection.
“Our beloved Gods, hear our prayer!” He looked up at the dark sky, speaking to the heavens.
To Gods who had turned their backs on us long ago.
“We beg your judgment. We offer our blood. May you find worthy souls to Ascend, or may you find pleasure in feasting on their souls.” The shiver that curled up my spine had nothing to do with the cold.
“We vow to use the power you bless us with to avenge the Sirens and spill the blood of the Fae.” The Priest lowered his arms, the crowd watching with rapt attention.
“Sea Goddess, we mourn you. Moon God, shine on us once more. Goddess of Love, find us in your heart again. And our beloved Sun God, rise! Come back to us and end this eternal winter you blight us with.”
The waters below reacted violently to his words, darker shadows stirred beneath the waves, monstrous creatures rising in preparation to feast for our estranged Gods.
The priest pressed his sacred knife into the hand of the priestess.
I knew without looking that symbols where carved into its hilt: I had stared at them many times while it sliced into my skin.
“In the waters of the Dead Sea, the Gods will weigh your soul. If you are strong enough, they will allow you to swim to the shores of the barracks where you will become more.”
I squinted into the distance, a flickering bonfire marking our target on the shores of the small island off the continent of the Mortal Kingdom.
It was impossibly far away; I wasn’t even sure if I could swim.
I tried to swallow the laugh that almost bubbled out of me, wondering how exactly I was going to die.
Would I simply drown? Or would a monster would eat me?
“This is binding by blood. If you are not worthy,” she said, tilting her head as her glowing eyes swept over the Sacrifices, “you will die.”
Her eyes seemed to settle on me, and I checked that my hair was firmly hidden with trembling hands.
“Let the Ascension begin!”
I heard my father’s cheer rise above the onslaught of noise that erupted in anticipation.
Good. He’d soon watch the daughter he caged choose her own fate.
An unbidden smile tugged at my lips, because tonight, I would be the one to hurt them.
All of them. A young man stepped to the edge of the cliff, arms hanging limply at his sides as he took one unsure step after another towards the priest and priestess.
He grabbed the knife from her with trembling hands, the wind whipping his blonde hair in his face.
“State your name,” the priestess invited.
“Jerome Blankley.” His voice cracked as he spoke, with either nerves or the timbre of adolescence. I wondered if he was too young to survive. The Gods favoured initiates between seventeen and twenty-seven years old. Any age could sacrifice themselves, but they were always killed.
He sliced the blade of the dagger across his hand, grimacing as red blood dripped into the bowl. Glancing back over his shoulder at the crowd with tear-filled eyes, he turned. Running and leaping into the frozen abyss.
The crowd erupted in cheers, swallowing the boy’s scream. I held my breath while I watched the water, waiting for him to break through the waves. His head surfaced against the whitewash of the tide, and I exhaled an unsteady breath.
He made it.
His arms cut through the water frantically, swimming to the distant shores of the barracks. The waves seemed to still for an unsettling moment, the water rippling around him in an unnatural pulse.
That was the only warning that came before water exploded around him. A monstrous maw rose from the depths, snatching his body from the water and dragging him into the darkness of the Dead Sea.
A pained scream violated my ears, cutting through the cheers like a blade through flesh.
A woman with the same shade of brown hair sobbed hysterically, thrashing against a male’s arms and trying to run to the edge of the cliff.
My pulse thrummed like a hummingbird’s wings trying to take flight as I stared at the hysterical mother crying for her son. Would anyone cry over the death of their mad princess? I suppose I would never know, but I doubted it. I didn’t know what it was to be loved.
The priest and priestess were completely unfazed. The crowd only cheered louder at the slaughter, drowning out the mother’s cries.
“Move forward.” The priestess gestured to the next initiate with a curve of her lips that looked more intimidating than reassuring.
I focused on the glistening snow. The coldness sinking into my silk slippers made my feet feel painfully numb. But it grounded me, and in an odd way, the pain gave me comfort.
I tried not to listen to the names of the Sacrifices or the screams that sometimes followed, shuffling closer to my demise.
“Jump or die!” a general shouted from the sidelines.
“Come on!” someone from the crowd screamed and an onslaught of angry jeers followed. Reluctantly I pulled my gaze to a woman with dark brown hair and frantic eyes crying at the edge of the cliff.
“Please! I don’t want to die,” the woman begged.
“This one is going to be messy,” the man who had pushed in front of me, Riven, muttered under his breath. He turned towards me with a grimace, pushing his brown waves off his forehead. But I couldn’t look away. Blood curdling screams ripped from her throat as her knees crashed into the snow.
Riven leant down into my line of sight with a sly grin, dimples flashing, his voice low and amused.
“I enjoy a woman’s screams, but usually I’m the one causing it.”
My eyes shot to his, meeting a striking grey filled with mischief. If he hadn’t seen my face before, he certainly had now.
“You are disgusting,” Dreya said from behind me.
The woman’s screams rose to a feverish pitch. Her skin was turning a dark grey. Lifeless. Sinking in on itself as though it were rotting.
Riven turned back for a moment, his face darkening as he caught sight of the army generals dragging the twisted, lifeless body to throw into the Dead Sea.
I could feel my breathing become shallow. It’s nearly my turn.
“Hey, you. Eyes here.” He snapped his fingers in my face dragging my attention yet again. His easy-going smirk returned, crooked and full of reckless charm.
“Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll give you something inspiring to watch.” He grinned and turned towards the priestess, walking with a confidence I envied.
He bowed at the alter, though the gesture seemed more mocking then genuine.
He sliced his hand with a flourish, tossing the knife back onto the alter. “Riven Ashford,” his voice boomed through the clearing.
With no hesitation, he launched himself off the cliff backwards, his body flipping in a wide arc before disappearing into the mist below.
Gasps followed his fall until he resurfaced, his laugh echoing over the sound of the waves before being swallowed by the crowd’s cheers. He swam into the darkness, disappearing.
“Step forward,” the priestess beckoned me, her eyes glowing with barely contained curiosity. The air felt heavier with every breath, suffocating me as I stepped onto the alter.
I took the sacrificial dagger from the priestess; it felt heavy in my hand.
The wind howled around me, pulling at my cloak as my pulse roared, but I didn’t hesitate. Gripping the hilt tightly, I glanced towards the throne.
My father sat rigidly upon the edge, watching me with an anger hotter than the crackling fire. His gaze burned into mine, filled with fury, confusion and something else... Fear.
I pulled my hood back, silver hair catching the firelight.
Shock rippled through the crowd, but I kept my eyes locked on his. For the first time in my life, I didn’t flinch.
I smiled.
“Lyra Meridian,” I yelled over the crowd’s uproar.
I raised my hand over the bowl, dragging the blade across my palm. I didn’t flinch; I was used to blades. But the electric feeling that radiated into my soul made me shift uncomfortably. Blood welled dark and thick in my hand, ready to set me free.
“Lyra!” my father roared with anger.
My brother stood from his throne, jumping off the dais into the crowd. “Please!” He yelled, “Lyra don’t do this!”
My heart clenched at the rawness in his voice.
Aldric never lost control. Yet there he was, shoving through the crowd, his hair falling loose from its careful styling.
His polished facade splintered further with each frantic step.
The perfect prince was gone; only my brother remained, undone by fear.
But I held my ground. I tipped my hand as he pushed his way through the crowd that seemed to part for him. A figure broke the formation of the line and crashed into Aldric.
Dreya grappled with my brother, the prince, in the damp, ash-covered snow.
Her dark eyes burned with fury as her slender frame held his struggling form to the ground.
My blood splashed into the bowl, almost black against the cursed water’s red gleam. The moment it touched, a violent shock tore through my veins.
As though ice and fire raged a war inside me, the ancient power sank its claws into my very soul.
“Come now, Princess, I will convince the Gods you made a mistake,” the priest coaxed in a soothing voice. But venom lurked beneath it, I could see it for the poison it was.
I stared at the hand he offered, the same hand that carved symbols into my skin with a blade, the same hand that touched me against my will.
I fluttered my eyelashes at him before widening them to make myself looked frightened. “You would do that for me, my priest?”
“I would,” he said gently. “The Gods speak through me, and they will show you mercy. They know you are only a broken girl. Come now.”
My teeth clenched, and I gripped the ceremonial dagger with purpose, letting him come closer.
They called me broken. Perhaps they were right—but broken glass cuts the deepest.
I drove the knife into his chest. His flesh split with a sickening squelch as the dagger sunk into his flesh. He sucked in a fractured breath as I forced the blade deeper, my knuckles hitting skin. His eyes widened in disbelief, lips parting in a soundless scream.
I grinned, the dark thing inside of me drinking in the bloodshed, begging me to make him suffer. I twisted the knife, and he finally found his voice.
The sound of my torturer screaming was beautiful, like a lullaby crafted just for me.
For a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. The wind, the crowd, even the roaring sea as I watched him fall to his knees.
“Jump!” Dreya shouted, cutting through my enchantment.
Aldric sobbed my name, choked and broken. It cut straight through my heart. Perhaps he did love me, but I knew he would never love me enough to save me from Father.
I did not look back.
Sprinting towards the cliff’s edge with my heart lodged in my throat, I shed the cloak like a second skin, spread my arms, and dove into the waiting dark. My vision tilted.
The cliff.
The sea.
The world.
The air bit at my skin, sharp and cold as it whooshed past me, stealing the air from my lungs.
For a single, blinding moment, I was weightless.
I was free.