The Reluctant Prophet

By Gillian O'Rourke

There’s none so blind as she who can see . . .
Esther is blessed, and cursed, with a rare gift: the ability to see the fates of those around her. But when she escapes her peasant upbringing to become a priestess of the Order, she begins to realise how valuable her ability is among the power-hungry nobility, and what they are willing to do to possess it.
Haunted by the dark man of her father's warnings, and unable to see her own destiny, Esther is betrayed by those sworn to protect her. With eyes newly open to the harsh realities of her world, she embarks on a path that diverges from the plan the Gods have laid out. Now she must choose between sacrificing her own heart’s blood, and risking a future that will turn the lands against each other in bloody war.
The Reluctant Prophet is the story of one woman who holds the fate of the world in her hands, when all she wishes for is a glimpse of her own happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristell Ink
• Release date: Aug 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781909845206

Book preview

1

I had never been able to see my own future, not the way I could see it for others. Even now, on my unanticipated return to Rycroft, a part of me rebelled at the thought of facing a past I believed long behind me. If I had known then what a luxury it is to go home, I might not have dismissed it so.

As an initiate to the Order, I learned from women far wiser than I that the past was a wraith that could come back to haunt the future. I imagined it looming overhead like a hidden cloud, waiting – maybe over many years – to rain upon me when I least expected it. Not a soft white thing, but an angry, vengeful thundercloud. Perhaps I had lived too long in the calm now, because I once again began to feel the storm approaching. Entering the village, I steeled myself to face it, but despite the many prayers I had said for courage, that long-forgotten anxiety crept its cold tendrils into my soul.

I’d escaped the painful memories this place forged in my childhood, and had taken a chance to make my future a safer, happier one. But now I had come full circle, and it was the temple above Rycroft village that held the balance of my future within its cold, imposing walls.

I followed the path past the village with the other initiates, and climbed carved granite steps meticulously shaped by skilled stonemasons. Upon a stone archway were the effigies of the three Gods we Sinnotians worshipped. Lo, Creator and Destroyer, an armoured warrior with the head of a wolf, carried an array of weapons, but it was the large war-hammer in his hand my eyes gravitated to. Beside him stood Era, the graceful feline-faced goddess of emotions, and of life and death. Finally, at Era’s left hand, stood Tyrus, master of elements. He was the God I most often found myself drawn to, his wise, owl-like features faced the valley directly upon Rycroft.

An expectant hush fell over the group, followed by soft murmurs from the young women. They praised the Gods in whispers, for this sight we beheld as we moved forward, heading for the path into the mountains, awed even the noble-born among us. Like a flock of white doves, innocently seeking an arbour to rest in, we wore the modest robes all initiates of the Order wore, to signify their intentions to serve the Gods. But only a select few would ever don the red robes of a fully-fledged priestess. The final testing awaited us. I already knew that most of the girls would return home dressed in the same clothes they had worn before their training began, and all I could do was to hope I would not be one of them.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching a final glimpse of my birthplace, and the anxiety melted away; it was behind me now. A veil of calmness enveloped me as I turned my gaze to the temple looming ahead. Its exterior was a thing of perfection, as if the Gods themselves had used a hot sword to cut through the stone. Barely a window could be seen from this low vantage point. A shiver ran across my skin. Like the tip of my tongue verging on speaking a forgotten word, an elusive vision teetered on the edge of my sight. The sensation faded away before fruition, however, and was replaced with awed anticipation for what I was soon to encounter.

It would take several days to test the initiates in their obedience, faith and humility. At the end of the ordeal, I hoped to find myself clad in the red robes of a Priestess of Oraccles.

Give me strength, I begged the Gods as we settled into the long climb. My legs began to burn and the summer sun was growing hot with the afternoon. The priestess ahead turned and eyed each one of us. Most of the initiates did not notice her quiet surveillance, but when my eyes met hers, her gaze narrowed before she looked away and sharply directed the girls to quicken their pace. Her scrutiny left me wondering whether the testing had already begun.

*

Days of inflicted pain, humiliation and cruelty brought me close to the brink of madness, closer to my gift, leaving me weary in body and spirit. I did not know which part of me hurt more, but when my eyes met those of the head priestess, the superior who would decide my fate, the keen pain of expected failure rose in my chest. Her dark eyes seemed to swallow me whole. I felt both hot and cold at once; days of obedience, suffering and fasting had blurred the days into one long torture. I longed to sit and weep, but my body was too sore to do anything but kneel slowly, stiffly into a submissive position. Many girls had failed, and now I was to learn my own fate. My ears were ringing and I almost cried out when my knee, cut open on a sharp stone during one of the tests, sent pain reverberating throughout my body. I kept my eyes upon the superior’s face. Lined and calm, her expression betrayed nothing.

I flinched when an unexpected vision assaulted my senses, propelling me from the room and into a place I barely caught a glance of. A trace of darkness; a laugh, a dark green eye. Each small glimpse offered me no more than a confusing jumble of images I could not piece together to make a whole picture. Swaying, I wondered if I was ill. My body throbbed and the days of fasting, beatings and silence became as fractured and unreal as my visions. The testing had taken its toll, but I needed only make it through this last moment. As I fought to return to myself, I worried again that I would make it this far, only to be rejected because of what I was: a peasant.

The superior rose. My awareness had been completely focused on her and I had not noticed an inch of the marble-columned room I had been brought to. The distracting sparkle of candlelight danced on a pool of water and I looked away quickly, not wishing to see the future reflected in those waters. The superior’s thin lips moved, but I heard no sound. The ringing in my ears worsened and my heart rate trebled. When she stood before me, she lifted her hand and smeared something powdery against my forehead. Her touch sent waves of premonition into my mind, making my skin shiver and creep. Fighting the urge to succumb to the sight left me weak and trembling.

I was not altogether myself when I managed to overcome the visions. My chest constricted when a distant voice – certainly not the superior’s worn croak – spoke to me, gently whispering, ‘Esther . . . Esther,’ over and over.

All the while the superior’s mouth moved, but I knew nothing of her words. The room tilted and the first spark of emotion lifted the older woman’s eyes from blankness. For a moment I believed I was succumbing to the visions her touch was invoking, but I slipped instead into waiting darkness.

*

Something cold pressed to my face. Between the strange dreams and the sensation of someone touching me, I drifted between a place of unconsciousness and waking. The coolness moved away and came back; each time it touched my face I drifted closer to the surface.

For a while, three women appeared to me. The one in front had golden hair so long it touched her feet, but her face kept changing, so I never had a clear impression of her. Sometimes she appeared feline, other times like a normal woman, and I wondered if the statue of Era had come to life. She laughed.

Behind her, one of the other women pulled the mask of a wolf from her face. She had long dark hair and wore armour. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but there was a strength emanating from her that was both regal and terrifying. This confused me, because although he was always depicted as a male form, I sensed this woman was none other than Lo. I did not know what it could mean, except that perhaps my fevered brain was distorting my dreams.

The third woman was as old as time itself. Her presence reminded me of my mother’s and my gaze was drawn to her lined face. An owl sat upon her shoulder, as silvery as the woman’s long hair, its dark eyes patient and watchful.

The trio circled me – the blonde woman laughing, the warrior maiden snarling, and the old woman pointing a knobbly finger towards me. They spoke my name, as if to call me to them, but I was caught in the mortal realm and unable to follow. After a time, their figures melded and distorted until they became a fog and then darkness came to me, leaving me afraid and alone for what seemed like an eternity.

When it finally ended, a voice spoke to me through the haze. It was so remote I could hardly hear it, but its tone was gentle. I drifted, floating upon the grey sea, towards the calm voice, hoping it would bring me back from the brink.

It’s all right, Esther, no one will hurt you, the woman’s voice said. Hurt me? I thought, confused. I moved my head towards the sound and forced my eyes open.

A small lantern lit the room. It took some time for my vision to clear, but when it did, the young healer who tended me sat with a cloth in her hand. She smiled, her dark eyes sympathetic.

You’ve had us worried, she said. I tried to sit up, but my muscles protested.

What happened? I asked, my mouth feeling as though it was full of cotton wool.

Your knee was infected and it poisoned your blood. You have been sick for several days.

I stared at her in dismay. I remembered putting on the red robes, and then the strange dreams of the women, who were quickly growing hazy. Recalling their faces was difficult as they faded from memory.

How many days?

Your fever broke last night. This is the fourth evening.

My leg . . . is – is it all right?

The healer priestess smiled again. I liked her round, friendly face.

It is mending nicely now. The poultices have drained out the poison. I have mixed an elixir you can start drinking this evening. Hopefully we’ll have you up and about in a day or two.

As she collected the medicine, I tried to move my stiff body into a comfortable position. But when I felt the sharp pain in my leg, I sucked in a breath and fell back. Returning to me with her concoction, she removed the stopper and brought the vial to my lips. I lifted my head to take the drink, making a face as the liquid burned my throat. I coughed as she drew away the vial.

It isn’t nice, but it will work.

It tastes rotten, I said.

Most medicines do. How do you feel now?

I swallowed to try and rid my mouth of the taste. My leg aches. And I’m hungry.

A good sign. I will get you some broth, if you like. I wouldn’t recommend anything too heavy just yet.

I nodded tiredly, watching her as she returned the mixture to the table.

Am I a priestess? Did I finish everything I had to?

Yes. You finished the testing. We were going to bring you to the dining hall to break the fast. You have not eaten now for a week. You were rather fragile to begin with and Superior was worried you might be too weak. But I had a feeling you would come through. You’re stronger than you look.

I don’t know about that, I said, feeling rather limp.

I mulled over what I had heard her say when I was in the haze. What were you saying to me before I woke up? What did you mean?

The healer sat down, a frown on her face.

You had a raging fever. You spoke a lot, though some of it didn’t make sense. Superior thought you were making predictions. Do you not remember?

I shook my head.

You spoke about fighting and ships and fires. Sometimes you said things about illness and of being frightened. You kept begging someone not to hurt you.

I shivered at her words. I must have been dreaming about my father beating me again. These dreams occasionally tormented me when I was ill or stressed, but it had been some time since I had dreamt of the beatings I had once endured. The other things must have related to the visions I had seen when I had touched Erith.

Our meeting prior to the testing had been brief, but I recalled the flurry of excitement between the initiates when she entered the sleeping quarters. She had stood out, for her regal demeanour and the fact she was very beautiful. A stray strand of auburn hair had come free from the veil and her hazel eyes were observant of her surroundings. She was only a year or so older than myself, but she had the poise of someone far more mature. When she greeted me, I had not known she was royalty, nor had she known I was a peasant.

She had taken my hand in a gesture of equality and friendship, and in that momentary touch, I had foreseen parts of her future – of Erith travelling to a city by the sea; of a young woman, much like the princess in looks, but with dark hair, lying on her death bed, and large galleon ships firing upon the city she had initially been travelling to. Plumes of smoke rose to blacken out the sky above the besieged city, but it felt much further in the future than within the lifespan of the dying woman. My last vision of Erith had been but a glimpse, but I had foreseen her passing the testing; I had known, even before the trials had taken place, that she would have one of the coveted positions in the Order.

I wanted to ask the priestess more of what I had said in my sleep, but my eyes began to feel heavy. Hunger was now a distant thought.

You should rest, Esther. I see you are still tired. The sleep will make you better.

I wondered if the elixir was responsible for the heavy feeling. My vision faded and darkness claimed me once more.

*

The next evening, I was feeling like my old self. I had been fed and my empty belly felt the satisfaction of warmth and fullness. Sitting back with a sigh of contentment, I scratched my itchy, bald scalp as the healer brought over a salve to rub onto it. The superior had called the removal of our hair a ‘rebirth into a new life of service’, but it also tested the temptations of vanity and pride.

It will itch while the hair grows back. This helps.

I’m a mess, aren’t I? I said. She smiled as I dipped my fingers into the thick mixture and massaged it into my scalp.

Let me have a look at your leg, she said, arranging her bandages and concoctions. I obediently lifted the blankets and pulled up my undergarments. A cream bandage was wrapped tightly around my brown knee. My legs looked scrawnier than normal.

As the healer cut through the bandages, there was a knock and Daralis’s head peeped around the door.

Hello, little Esther. She smiled and entered the room. Unlike those attempting to become priestesses, guardians were not required to shave their heads. Her long blonde hair was tied tightly at the nape of her neck. I wondered why she had chosen the life of a guardian. The Lady Daralis was the only daughter of the powerful Lord of Torr, who governed the northern county of the same name. Daralis was tall and wiry, and her physical training as a guardian initiate had made her lean and strong. Her eyes, the colour of the sea in summer, betrayed a wicked sense of humour. Her pointed chin told of a young woman who was stubborn, though I had witnessed it first-hand when we suffered through the more physically demanding challenges of the testing. On several occasions I had seen her jaw clench in determination.

Where I had swayed and been injured in the test of humility, obedience and pain, Daralis had remained stalwart. Beneath the temple, the initiates had been taken to a cavern where we had been ordered to stand naked whilst we were pelted with pails of ice cold water and struck with a thin cane by the priestesses. My moment of weakness had made me fall and split open my knee, but I had regained my legs enough to see out the trial. Daralis stood beside me throughout the ordeal, and had witnessed many failing initiates that day. She had barely flinched, her strong, lithe body taking the beatings far more stoically than any other initiate in the cavern. I thought her a model of resolve and strength, and believed she would suit the roll of a guardian very well.

The guardians’ role was to protect the vassals of the Gods from marauders and thieves, especially when priestesses travelled from one commune to another. In these more peaceful times, the guardians rarely saw difficulty, but I had heard on occasion of unhappy family members accosting healers of the Order, when a diagnosis or treatment failed to save a loved one. But for the protection of her guardian, the injuries sustained to a priestess could be fatal.

Unlike priestesses, guardians could choose to marry and have children. Daralis would have the independence to choose her own life, when keeping to her father’s household would have meant she had no right to choose her future. Perhaps an unreasonable proposal had been made for her hand and she chose guardianship instead. I could understand had that been the case.

Daralis wore a red tunic with a pair of cream leggings. Cinched tightly at her narrow waist was a leather belt, the sheath empty of its weapon. Daralis would not receive her dagger until leaving Rycroft for her posting.

Hello, Daralis, I said. I fought the urge to call her Lady. She leaned against the wall, looking amused as she crossed her arms over her chest.

By the Gods, you look a sight, she said.

I’m sure I’ve looked worse, I replied, feeling my face redden under her straightforward gaze. I flinched as the healer pulled away the bandage, letting the wound air.

Daralis’s light eyes looked at the wound with fascination and disgust. Is it healing?

The priestess nodded her veiled head.

You’ve had everyone worried, Daralis told me.

I couldn’t help getting sick, I said. She smiled. I wondered if she was used to having someone talk back to her. Probably not.

Well, you’re on the mend now, that’s all that matters. When you’re well enough to travel, you’ll be coming with Erith and me to Avataire Temple.

My mouth opened in awe. I couldn’t speak for a full minute. Avataire Temple was one of the largest communes of the Order. It was in a prime area overlooking the country’s capital, Merlith Illiah.

Are you sure? Where did you hear that?

Superior handed out the allocations this morning. I have yours here. She slipped a piece of paper out of the dagger-free sheath and handed it to me. I took it with trembling fingers.

I can’t believe it, I said, bewildered. I looked upon the writing – kind words in elegant script to state the qualities I had shown during testing. Determination, humility, honesty . . . At the bottom of the page was the recommendation to travel to Avataire. I took a deep breath to calm myself and smiled at Daralis. Will you be a guardian there?

I will. And you and Erith will be the new priestesses. Usually one might be taken in a year, but a couple of them must have left the mortal realm this time round.

I saw the healer’s look of disapproval, but I couldn’t help but smile at Daralis’s dry humour.

I wondered if it was my gift that had landed me a coveted position in Avataire; I was certain Erith’s prestigious heritage helped her. She would remain close to home, the main seat of her family’s rule. The Lady Erith must be pleased too.

Daralis shrugged, but remained silent. I frowned, wondering what it could mean, if it meant anything at all. The healer frowned too.

So . . . Are you happy? Daralis asked.

Yes, of course I am. I’ve never been to the city before.

Daralis grinned. Well, I think you will be in for a surprise, little Esther. All sorts of eye-opening wonders will be yours to behold. She winked at me and I felt the corner of my mouth curl up again. "But I am delighted you are coming to Avataire. You seem different to other girls. I think we could be friends."

The healer spoke up, disapproval etched upon her grave features. Priestesses and guardians have no friends, Daralis. We are here to serve the Gods and no more than that. You should know that from your training.

Daralis dropped her head. I apologise, Priestess. I forgot myself for a moment.

She seemed placated by the apology, but I caught the insincerity in Daralis’s tone.

It will take time to adjust. But you must think carefully before you speak. It may land you in trouble in the future.

I will remember your advice, thank you. Dipping her head again, Daralis said, I am happy you are on the mend, Esther. Perhaps after training tomorrow, I could visit again?

Of course. I would be happy for some company.

Daralis smiled and left, closing the door behind her.

Well, your wound is re-dressed. It is healing nicely now.

Thank the Gods, I replied.

She considered me for a moment. Be mindful of Guardian Daralis, Esther. She is still too impetuous by far. She may grow out of it, but for now she may cause herself and anyone close to her trouble.

I wondered who the seer was here. Did this healer have a perceptive instinct for people? I hadn’t seen anything about Daralis to cause me any concern. I sighed, staring at the fresh gauze on my leg. Thank you, Priestess, I said quietly, I will be mindful.

The healer smiled.

*

Beginning our journey back in Rycroft set my nerves on edge once more. It had been six days since the end of my illness and I was now well enough to travel. My leg felt stiff, but I no longer needed a bandage for the scabby wound. The healer had given me a stick to help my balance until the sick leg regained its strength. It helped with the walk down the mountain, but I didn’t need it once we were on the flat ground of Rycroft.

Erith walked quietly beside me. Despite the anonymity the red robes offered, it wasn’t hard to see she had been brought up in a household of high nobility. She walked with her veiled head held high, and with a grace that was enviable. The villagers’ eyes roamed to her as we past them. They nodded, silently showing us respect. We returned the gesture, accepting their honour.

Daralis walked ahead with another guardian named Corliss. Both women held fighting sticks and looked fearsome in their red tunics. Unlike the priestesses, they wore a flat red cap instead of a veil. Beneath the cap, Daralis’s pale hair fell in a neat braid down her back.

As we walked through the sunny village, I kept alert for any sign of my father. I knew I was finally free of him, but was still wary. Being a priestess offered me protection, but still, I did not want to meet him.

Nearing the other side of the village I thought myself safe and let out the breath I had been holding in. The cottage showed no movement or life as we passed. It looked derelict and had fallen into disrepair since I had lived there. Weeds overran an unkempt garden and the thatch had seeded plants within its rotting layers.

I had glimpsed my father briefly when we first entered the village, but the abiding memories of my childhood had involved cruelty and pain and I was sure nothing had changed as I had passed him. His face was still as mean – age had not mellowed that possessed, angry look from his brown face. His hair had turned iron grey and his one good eye had glared at us in disgust. When he spat contemptuously on the ground, I realised with deep relief that he no longer knew me. I had been a child of twelve when I had run away and, on my return, I was nearly a woman. However, that niggling anxiety of seeing him, and the pain he had once inflicted, still haunted my thoughts.

And those memories brought with them even more painful ones. How could I think of my father and not my poor, sweet mother? She had taken the brunt of his rages, especially the drunken ones, until she had become too unwell. Then the violence had turned its full focus on me, and I had taken it with as much strength as a child could muster. But at the age of twelve I had foreseen my mother’s death and it was that event that had irrevocably changed my fate.

The cover of the nearby forest loomed and I wanted to run towards its freedom, as I had five years earlier, when I followed a group of priestesses leaving Rycroft. It was almost surreal to think that I, a peasant girl, was now one of them.

Erith tensed as we came closer to the forest. I followed her gaze, my stomach clenching. That man gives me the creeps, she said. I saw him when we arrived. I think he hates us.

He said nothing for a long time, his good eye watching as we went by. I hoped he would watch us as silently as he had when we had entered, but he straightened when his gaze fell upon me.

Esther, he called. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I felt Erith’s surprise as she slowed down. Hesitating, my feet faltered. But he would not come to me. Reluctantly, I left the group and went to him.

Father, I said, hating to call him that. I don’t know if he was relieved I acknowledged him, or angered. He had always been so unpredictable.

Ye refused t’ know me when ye entered Rycroft the other week.

Can you blame me? I lifted my chin, wanting to show him I wasn’t afraid anymore. He could no longer hurt me and maybe that was what made me braver than I might have been.

He remained silent, his good eye full of ire. But I could tell he was having a hard time controlling his anger as colour crawled up his neck and darkened his face.

A priestess? Probably think yer better than yer ol’ man now. He spat on the ground.

I was surprised to feel myself tremble so much, but with anger, not fear. What do you want?

Ye might hate me, but I made ye strong. And ye’ll need t’ be strong, fer what’s coming t’ ye.

What do you mean? I asked, trying not to show my alarm.

Ye didn’t just pick yer gift up off the ground, Esther. It ‘as been the bane o’ me existence an’ will be the bane o’ yers. I’m jist warning ye t’ be careful, especially where yer goin’. Yer gonna come face t’ face wi’ the devil. Ye think life was hard wi’ me. Ye’ll be praying t’ be back in Rycroft soon enow.

I could have slapped his smug face when he looked down on me, but my training taught restraint and I instead nodded coldly and stepped away from him. Gods be with you, I said, keeping control.

Was he telling the truth? Had he seen something? His hand snaked out and grabbed my arm. I pulled away, but I was still too weak after the illness. Daralis shouted at him to take his hands off me. Erith and Corliss kept her at a distance. I realised quickly by the expression on his face that he did not want to hurt me. There was something in his gaze that I had not seen before. Concern?

Yer me flesh an’ blood, nae matter what, Esther. I’m warnin’ ye t’ be careful. An’ mind the dark man – he’ll hurt ye worse than I could e’er.

His insistent words confused me, but I said as calmly as I could, I will father. I will be mindful . . . 

He let me go and I turned away from him, my eyes lifted to see Erith’s pale face. She looked indignantly at my father.

Are you all right? Daralis asked, glaring at him over my shoulder.

I’m fine. Please, let’s go, I said, walking along the road again. I glanced back to see my father standing under the tree, still watching. I had the strangest feeling that seeing him there might be the last time. The idea was oddly upsetting.

He disappeared from view as the trees came between us. I thought of his words and felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. How could life be any worse than it was when I was a child? The last five years of devotion and study had been the happiest years of my life. Now I had my dream of independence. I only imagined life getting better from now on. I was sure he only said those things to put a dampener on my success; he had done it to my mother for years. To think that he cared enough to warn me of danger seemed like a bit of a joke. But what if he was right?

I glanced over my shoulder again, but there was no sign of him or the village. Annoyed, I looked forward, reminding myself of the promise I had made the day I ran away. Look forward Esther. No matter what, look forward . . .

2

It was twilight on the eighth day when we entered the town of Two Crossings, a lively meeting of the River Hander and the main road to Merlith Illiah and the home of the Lord and Lady of Laibrook. We walked passed a bustling blacksmith’s and a stabling yard as we turned onto the main street. People nodded or bobbed their respect as they went about their evening chores. The smell of hay and manure hung in the air as we followed the sloping road to the temple at the top of the street. Children ran about, free of life’s burdens, and I smiled, pleased to see it.

My mouth watered as we passed a bakery.

That smells wonderful, Erith said. Over the days of travelling, we had spoken of our respective lives, and I had learned that Erith was not pleased to be returning Merlith Illiah. She had been hoping to go to a smaller commune where she would be anonymous. But it seemed her responsibilities of birth and duty were calling her to Avataire.

Shame we have no coin, I said, almost able to taste the freshly cooked bread.

Daralis turned back to us, rubbing her belly. Erith and I smiled broadly, but Corliss seemed unmoved.

Do you think we’ll be fed here? I’m starving! Daralis said.

As the Gods will, Corliss replied, and Daralis rolled her eyes.

At the top of the town stood the castle. Tall grey turrets rose above thick buttressed walls, and small slit windows scarred the face of its otherwise flawless façade; I imagined the occupants to be as intimidating as their grand residence. Someone once told me that Gibson, Lord of Laibrook, had been a Knight of the Order. Daralis had since told me he had retired after a hunting injury, but his faith in the Order remained strong.

Here we are, Erith said, stopping in front of a stone and wood structure. Its tall gable roof, covered in dark, durable slates, rose steeply above the stone wall. Beautiful etchings of the Gods were carved into the wooden posts. Above a heavy wooden door, all manner of animals were delicately etched into the wood, entwined in the knot work. I stood and stared as Erith, less enamoured by the sight, pulled the heavy iron handle, which moved a small pulley to ring the bell behind the door.

Looking around Two Crossings as we waited for the door to open, I was surprised to see over most of the town at this vantage point. Over the blacksmith’s forge, I spied the stone bridge crossing the wide river. In the last rays of sunlight, the river glistened and I thought it an idyllic place to reside. Fertile fields rolled across undulating countryside thick with crops almost ready for harvest. On such a fine day the people seemed well kept and contented.

I turned when I heard movement behind the door, which opened on an ancient, staring face. Welcome sisters, the old woman spoke. Her face looked tiny encircled in the red veil and I couldn’t help but stare at her blind, milky eyes as she ushered us inside.

Welcome, sister, we replied, entering the commune. The old lady fumbled with her stick and led us through the temple area. Every part of it was carved or painted upon; at the head of the temple stood the effigies of the Gods. We crossed our arms over our chests as we passed them and followed the old priestess out of the temple and into a stone courtyard. Several stone huts were dotted around the site and about a dozen priestesses worked the grounds, tending the gardens or cleaning the cobbled yard. They smiled their greetings as a middle-aged woman approached us, her brown eyes looking over each of us.

I am Una, Superior of Two Crossings. Her lovely face glowed with inner tranquility and I wondered how long it had taken for her to master her feelings.

I am Erith, Erith said, stepping forward. She bowed her head, curtsied gracefully and stepped back. I followed Erith’s lead, doing the same as I introduced myself. Una ignored me, her dark eyes instead turning to Daralis and Corliss. Una and Corliss greeted each another warmly.

It has been a long time, Corliss. You do the family proud becoming a Guardian.

Corliss tilted her dark head as she gave Una a proud smile. This is what I have always wanted, Aunt. I can’t quite believe the Gods have chosen me for this path, but I could not be happier.

Then I am pleased for you.

Una turned and guided us towards a shingled wooden building. Its tall, gabled roof caught the sunlight, causing the delicate knot-work above the entranceway to lie in shadow. It was not until we reached the doorway that I saw it and could truly appreciate its beauty. Although not as elaborately carved as the temple, it was lovely for its simplicity.

We were expecting you some days ago, but we received word that one of you had been unwell, she said.

Yes, Esther fell ill after the testing.

Una eyed me again and I felt my cheeks redden at her scrutiny. She said nothing to me, but her disapproval of me was more than evident. Turning, she pushed open the narrow doors and I exhaled, attempting to calm the swell of anxiety that followed her look. I remembered my mother once meeting the Lady Starnford and how the noblewoman had only tolerated her presence because my mother was delivering her favourite sweet treats from the local baker. And I recalled the dismissal my mother received: barely a glance followed by the flick of a pale hand. That same expression had been cast my way, making it glaringly obvious that I was different. All I wanted was to be accepted by my sisters and perhaps I had felt a measure of it with Erith, Daralis and Corliss. I had passed the testing before the Gods and priestesses and I felt a keen sense of injustice in her silent rejection. My shoulders slumped, and it was difficult to stay composed when I felt defeated at my first hurdle. With a deep inhalation, I followed the superior into the temple.

Inside the simple wooden structure an arched alcove was built into the stone. It had been carved with elaborate knot-work and the symbols of the Gods: an eye, a swirl and a circle. As