Page 4 of Of Blood & Stone

Thump.

Aretta’s power thrummed against her skin, a living heartbeat as familiar as her own. She grasped for her goddess’ power. With a single breath, golden light released from the ground, trailing wide circles around her wrists, up her forearms, and slicing deep into the soft open flesh of her back. The familiar pain started at her shoulder, dragging down and across until it reached her hip, as if a thin dagger were cutting into her skin.

She breathed out.

The energy circled back the way it had come, crawling under her arms, releasing out of her palms, and retreating into the soil. She gulped, breaths steadied as she placed every thought into her connection between skin and earth.

Blood and blood.

Life.

Maintaining focus on her hands, she waited for the green sprout to poke between her fingers. She imagined the bright leaves unfolding from its center, slow and graceful, the stem rising on a golden trail of light, just as it always did.

Suddenly, the heartbeat ceased.

Sylzenya tilted her head. It’d been years since she’d lost concentration so quickly. She closed her eyes as she reached for the power within the earth again.

Instead, she was met with an icy chill under her fingers… and silence.

Sweat dripped down her arms. Shaking her head, she redirected her focus deeper into the soil. She coupled her focus with a seed of truth; she was to be the hope for her people. Without her, there wouldn’t be enough Kreenas to sustain the kingdom. She needed to push more, to concentrate more, tofeelmore.

The need consumed her as the earth grew warm against her palms, her heart racing fast as she dug her fingers deeper and deeper into the soil. She grasped for power, for life—for pain.

Silence consumed her instead.

Blood seeped from her back and onto the soil, the steady flow causing her vision to blur. Something was wrong. She lifted her head to the High One, his brow was deeply furrowed as he stared at her hands.

The orodyte.

Sylzenya dug out the piece of orodyte. The stone was crystal clear—pure and without cracks or defects, just as it was supposed to be prior to its use.

The ominous silence heaved onto her chest as if a tree had fallen on her.

If the orodyte wasn’t the problem, then that would mean…

A priestess stepped in front of her, the holy woman’s arms spread out, her golden robe blinding as she began to recite the words that would reject Sylzenya’s Kreena title.

Announcing her failure to the entire grove.

“Wait,” Sylzenya begged, burying her hands into the soil, searching for her goddess’ heartbeat—but it was gone.

“Enough,Priestess,” the High One’s voice boomed.

Silence thick as fog filled the grove. The priestess stopped, her words melting into the air.

“Theraden,” the High One called, “bring me the branch you used for your daughter’s back.”

Her father stiffened.

The High One stepped forward, arm outstretched. “The branch, Theraden.”

Sylzenya stood, staring at her father. Wide pleading eyes and a color-drained face stared back. Something twisted inside her chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” her father whispered, his knuckles a painful white as he gripped the branch.

Heat rising along her neck, she snatched the branch from his hand. Her heart stilled. A yellow substance coated the branch, its color so faint against the white bark she’d missed it completely.

Orodyte serum.

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