TENN
They wandered up the beach, past the beautiful houses that were more cabanas than anything, their sheer white curtains billowing in the sea breeze. Everywhere he looked were young men and women dressed in white robes. Some carried bowls or books between buildings, others meditated in the sand. Most were silent, though a few sat together and talked in languages he couldn’t place. None seemed to be past their early twenties.
Every one of them paused to watch him pass by.
One young boy dropped the book he was reading to the sand.
Tenn wanted to pretend it was because he was an outsider, the only one here covered in black and rainwater from another continent. But he knew it was because they recognized him.
“Are they the Prophets?” he asked.
“No,” the Violet Sage replied without looking.
She led him to a large building, the biggest on the beach, with long open windows and a high-peaked roof.
“Do you have a name?” Tenn asked. “Or am I just supposed to keep referring to you by your title?”
A small part of him marveled at his boldness, or maybe it was rudeness. The rest was just so, so tired of being led around blindly.
She paused then, and looked up at him. Considered.
“Kara,” she said, and continued on.
He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped into the house. All of this was entirely out of left field; after the last four years of rain and cold and bloodshed, being here felt like stepping out of his life and into some sort of fairy tale. One where good things actually happened and evil could be vanquished. It wasn’t his reality. And the space they entered wasn’t some grand room of learning or power.
There wasn’t a chamber of wizened monks balancing on precarious stones or anything even remotely magical. It was just a large room overlooking the sea, with two brocade pillows in the center and a small porcelain tea set on a tray beside them.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a pillow.
Tenn did so, fidgeting with his clothes. He opened to Water and pulled the rain from them, but the moment he did, the humidity snuck back in and stuck to his skin.
Kara sat on the opposite pillow, a small smile on her lips. Then she opened to her Spheres. All four of them.
Instantly, the windows closed and the air in the room dropped to a comfortable temperature. The humidity vanished. Small lanterns burst into flame around them, casting a warm, soothing glow over the scene. Sticks of incense in ceramic holders began to smolder, trailing tails of smoke up into the rafters.
Even though they were small acts of magic, and even though he had known she could channel all four Spheres, it still filled Tenn with a sense of awe.
“Tea?” She raised the pot and filled both cups before he could answer. The scent of peppermint and something more pungent drifted around them.
“So how does this work?” he asked as she handed him the tea. “Is there some sort of secret ritual or something?”
He couldn’t help the sarcasm laced through his words. He knew he was being childish and insolent, but Water churned and bruised within him, an ache and injustice that just wouldn’t go away—why did these people get to live in peace, while everyone else suffered? Why was he even trying to help them?
You aren’t helping them, he told himself. You’re helping everyone else.
If she noticed the tone of his voice, she didn’t let it bother her.
“How else? Through the runes.”
She took a sip of tea, and he did the same. It tasted...gross. Like someone had mixed mint in with a lump of dirt and roots and called it good. But it seemed to clear his head a bit, and even though a part of him resented all of this, he didn’t want to seem rude.
He took another sip.
“There are runes to attune to Maya?” he asked. “I thought it was the one Sphere no one could attune to?”
She nodded.
“That is correct, in a fashion. One cannot attune to it. It is not simply like an electrical socket one can plug into. No, the runes are to bring you to Maya’s doorstep. To open you to its mystery. Then, it is up to the Sphere to decide.”
“Okay, then.” He set the tea down. “What are they?”
She hesitated. And had he not been watching her carefully, he would have missed the uncertainty that flashed over her features.
“There is one thing you must know,” she said.
Of course there is.
“You mean beyond the fact that this most likely won’t work and might kill me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. There is a cost to failure. In order to open to Maya, one must give oneself to the Sphere. Fully. And should the Sphere refuse you...”
“You die.”
“No,” she said. “Not fully. Not quite.”
“How many have successfully attuned?”
“None.”
“Then how do you know the runes work? How do you know you can actually attune?”
“The same reason you believe you can fight the Dark Lady. Your heart tells you it is so. We have faith. We have simply not been worthy enough for Maya’s grace.”
Tenn swallowed. It wasn’t exactly heartening, but what choice did he have? If he left here without attuning to Maya, he’d either be killed by Aidan or the Dark Lady or one of her spawn, or else Jarrett would throw him back into prison until everything was over—which it would never be, because they didn’t stand a chance. He was as good as dead either way. The only real chance he had was attuning to Maya. And after everything he’d been through, a small part of him believed that this would work.
That he was special.
He was the one the Spheres bent toward. The one the spirits spoke through. And even though it was somewhat egotistical, he felt like that should be more than enough to prove his worth to a Sphere.
The moment he thought that, however, doubt flooded through him.
If he had been so special, so powerful, why had he failed so many? Why hadn’t he been special enough to save his parents? Why had he failed when he’d needed to succeed the most?
“Why me?” he asked. “What makes me so special? And don’t tell me it’s because I’m willing to die to save people. A lot of people are.” He swallowed. Thought of the dozens of Hunters he’d watched fall in battle. “I should know. I’ve fought beside many of them.”
She considered for a while, her cup poised beneath her lips, untouched. That stare made him want to take his question back.
“Why should it not be you, Jeremy?” It still unnerved him that she called him by his old name. “It has nothing to do with being ‘chosen,’ and everything to do with being willing to answer the call. You answered. You followed the trail. And you believed. Which has brought you here, and once more you have the choice—believe not in yourself, but in the call, or turn away from both?”
In a way, the answer was disappointing.
He wasn’t special.
He wasn’t some chosen one.
But then he thought about it. Did it not make him stronger, to think he had been equal? That he hadn’t been chosen, but had chosen to take this on? It made him feel less battered by the Fates and more in control. He had a duty. There were people to save. And in the end, that would always be his highest calling, chosen or no.
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Show me.”
She set down the cup.
“I cannot write them down. Not for fear they will be discovered by the wrong sorts. Just as you must promise never to share these.”
“I promise.”
Kara gestured at her side, Air glowing brighter in her throat. A stick of burning incense floated over, smoke trailing behind it.
“Let your mind relax and the symbols flow through you,” she said. “These runes require only thought to activate, much like the tracking rune you know. As they settle in your mind, they will begin to work their magic. And then...well, then it is up to Maya. The process can take seconds or minutes, or even days. For some, the process never truly ends.”
She looked at him. “Are you ready?”
Despite himself, his heart thudded in his chest.
He knew there was no turning back from this. He succeeded, or he failed. Whatever that failure looked like, he knew it spelled death. For him, and for many, many others. He wanted to say of course he was ready, he didn’t have a choice. But he did have a choice. And he chose this.
He had to hope that was enough.
“I’m ready,” he said.
With a curt nod, she closed her eyes and twined her fingers through the incense smoke. It curled over her skin, serpentine, but rather than dispersing or dissipating, it moved. It twisted before her, a thread of gray, and began to form shapes. Runes.
They unfurled before him, a long, sinuous line of smoke and power. With every breath, he inhaled the heavy, heady scent. With every breath, he felt them settle into his bones.
His vision swam. The room faded, became a darkness that felt familiar. Comforting. Like the heavy black he’d felt in the Witches’ vision. He was safe here. Safe.
And then, he heard the Violet Sage scream.