Chapter 24
“A kingdom without faith has no moral direction.
If we put our faith in scripture, we are saved.”
Aknock at the chamber door startled me.
“Ms. Ashbone?” a voice called, muffled by the door. “I’m Karina, your designated sentry. I’ll be escorting you to the dining hall.”
I opened it to find a tall woman in all black.
No mask, but she didn’t need one. Her posture, her clipped politeness—it all screamed Veiler.
Or “sentry,” as they called themselves here.
It was almost funny, the effort they went to in renaming things, as if language could change what they really were.
Karina corralled a group of us into the hall. We moved like sheep, tired and quiet, until the doors to the dining hall swung open—and I halted mid-step.
The room was massive. Higher ceilings than Summit’s Ridge. Longer tables. Fifteen, at least six already filled. Culled and Veilers alike sat side by side, eating from trays topped with actual food—meat, greens, cheese, fruit. My stomach gave a traitorous growl.
I took my place in the line, watching as trays were handed through a square cutout in the wall. When it was my turn, the warmth of the bread in my hands almost brought tears to my eyes.
I chose a half-filled table far from everyone else and ate slowly, savoring every bite.
The silence didn’t last long.
A deep voice boomed from the front of the room.
I looked up to the dais and found the speaker: a man in an amber tunic, hair the color of slate. He bore the Ravaryn Seal, pinned above his heart—two ravens perched upon a willow branch.
His smile was the same as Corsica’s, just stretched wider.
“Good evening and welcome to our facility,” he announced, voice rolling like thunder. “My name is Marcum Marwood, head chairperson of the Guild for Religious Conservation. I oversee the program here.”
He paused, sweeping the room with his gaze. It lingered on faces like a weight, searching for cracks.
“I know the journey here was difficult…”
I scoffed, loud enough to earn a few glances.
“…but I hope you find comfort in knowing that you are now safe. You will be taken care of here.”
Safe.
As if being dragged here against our will had been mercy.
“You are free to roam the facility as you please when your presence is not required for program activities.”
His tone was casual, almost warm—too warm.
And then, the illusion cracked.
“I’m sure many of you are wondering why you were chosen,” Marcum said.
His eyes glinted like glass as he grinned.
“You may be familiar with a certain passage from The Old Book… a passage some call ‘the prophecy.’”
I stopped chewing.
Every culled one within earshot went still.
“We believe this prophecy is not allegory, but instruction,” he continued, voice dropping lower. Softer. More dangerous. “A divine formula. And you—each of you—are a part of it.”
I gripped my tray harder.
“True ascension,” he said, his hands spreading like wings, “can only be achieved by a pure soul. But we believe purification is possible—of the body, the blood, and the spirit. Through science, discipline, and faith.”
The bread in my mouth turned to ash.
Lies. It was all lies, and people were dead because of it.
“There are only two rules,” Marcum said, raising a single finger. “Rule one: participate in all mandatory project testing.”
He paused, letting the word mandatory sink in
He lifted a second finger. “Two: Harm none, except in self-defense.”
His voice brightened, almost cheerful now.
“If you cannot abide by these rules, then you will face certain consequences.”
The way he said consequences sent a shiver crawling up my spine.
“You are, of course, free to leave. The doors are not locked.” His eyes flicked toward the entrance. “Be warned that they do not reopen. And the cold here can be quite formidable.”
The silence that followed was louder than his voice.
Finally, he clapped his hands together once, sharp enough to make a few people flinch.
“I think that is enough information for one night. I will see you all at breakfast, where I will speak a bit more about routine. Until then, rest easy, and welcome to The Ascension Project.”
The Veilers burst into applause.
The culled did not.
My head spun with questions I didn’t want to ask.
How many had died in the name of this project?
What happened if I failed? Where did I go?
I felt a hand on my arm and jumped. The familiar calluses gave him away immediately, and my nerves settled slightly.
Rowan’s grip was tight with tension. He had also forgone his mask.
“Make it to breakfast,” he said, low and clipped.
He let go and walked off before I could ask what he meant.
I sat there motionless as crowds of people moved past and around me. I was frozen and reeling from all I had learned, and all that I still did not understand.
For the first time since Oak Hollow, I wasn’t sure what would become of me.