Page 52 of To No End

He paused briefly. The air was still and silent but for the faint crackling of the torches that lit the room.

“Lord and Lady Blackthorn, we thank you for the sacrifice you’ve made today, and for your unwavering fealty to the king’s cause. You may kiss the Offering’s hands in parting.”

And just like that, they were expected to leave. I turned toward them, fighting back tears with all the strength I could muster. I was not sad for myself. No, I was angry for the sadness my parents had been forced to endure, and will likely endure forthe remainder of their days. My mother grabbed my hand and raised my knuckles to her lips, kissing gently, holding her lips there for a few seconds. She released me and I turned to my father, who gathered both my hands in his.

He bent down to kiss them both. I could feel his wet tears fall on my fingers, and he then pressed them hard against his forehead and stood. Leaning in closely, he whispered the words, “You are chosen, not offered.” I do not believe he was permitted to speak, but no one intervened.

They both turned from me and began to walk the long distance of the great hall back to the entrance. I stood there watching, willing them to turn and look at me once more, but they did not. I was starkly reminded of my inability to turn back and glance at Trace as we parted ways, and it was then I understood.

When I turned back around, the priestess who had been silent the entire time was standing before me. She beckoned me to follow her and the strange male behind the throne, where I discovered a large, elevated, round fire pit glowing bright and hot. I noticed the king followed behind us quietly, the steps of his stride echoing.

When she spoke, her voice was melodic, almost entrancing. I think she could have requested anything and I’d have complied without hesitation.

“Please present your family medallion.”

My breath hitched with worry that I had forgotten where I’d placed it, but then I remembered the side pocket of the dress. Fetching it quickly, I felt the heaviness of textured metal in my hands and was reminded of how little I had cared for this thing, how unimportant it had seemed before now.

I handed it to the priestess, who placed it in the center of the flames before us. Behind the veil, I watched as our house crestmelted away into nothing, and soon after, the medallion lost all shape and meaning.

“Cressida, you will soon be born anew in the Bath of the Four Mothers. With you, you’ll take a name, but not a house. Your new brothers and sisters await you, and together you will take an oath. But first, a tribute. As the bonds of familial blood have been severed, so must you make a new one. Please hold out your wrist.”

Before I could even react, the priestess lifted a tiny metal rod from the fire, its tip glowing orange with heat, and pressed it against my wrist. I did not recognize the symbol she branded me with.

I quickly clutched my hand to my chest, the pain pulsating from my red and pink flesh. The king, now uncomfortably close to my side, held out his wrist to display the very same brand long healed over. His skin was shiny, almost silver where the mark resided.

“My blood is my bond; you shall be reborn in the name of the nameless. May the Gods favor the protectors of the realm, and may you be protected all your days, until your last breath.”

His voice was even more hypnotic than the priestess’s. I clung to every word, distracted from the pain. The king clasped his hand around my wrist, and when he pulled it away, the wound had healed just like his. Like it had been there for years, not just mere seconds. He then waved his hand over the top of the healed symbol and it disappeared completely. It was gone. Not even a scar remained visible. My skin was restored, only the memory of pain remained.

I had just lost my medallion, my family name, been branded, and yet I still had very little understanding surrounding what I was here for or who I was to these people. Was this just a bunch of ceremonious nonsense before I was sacrificed to the Gods in the name of the king and the realm? The priestess directed me tofollow her out of the great hall, and I did so despite the mounting list of questions confounding my head.

As I walked behind her, still veiled, I ran my thumb over my wrist trying to see if I could feel any sense of the symbol, but I felt nothing. She led me down a narrow, winding stone staircase. Lower and lower, to the unknown depths beneath the castle.

This is where I was going to be murdered. Somewhere the staff couldn’t hear our screams. Trying to ignore the endless steps, I found myself wondering about the other Offerings. Were they down here as well? When I saw a faint blue light ahead, I surmised the steps were coming to an end and we were nearing the bottom. If not, would I be led farther into some sort of catacombs? I could feel the muggy steam and moisture hanging in the air.

I turned the corner, and through the veil, I could barely make out a glowing pool in the center of the room. My surroundings felt constricting. The ceilings were low, the stone walls wrapped around the circular body of water, and the only exit appeared to be another dark hallway.

Tall figures dressed similarly in all-white and veils were encircling the pool of water. After indicating to me that I should remove my slippers like the others, she pointed me to an open spot near the pool. By now I had confirmed it was a hot spring, given the steam hovering around my toes.

“Everyone, please kneel.”

As each of the strangers lowered themselves, I couldn’t help but feel the utter subservience of the action. A bow was respectful and honorable, but this felt different, almost wrong. When we were all clearly kneeling on the slick hard ground, she spoke again, weaving her words like poetry.

“Each of you has been offered willingly, and each of you has performed a tribute in blood. Before you is the Bath of the Four Mothers. Tonight, you will be cleansed of your former life andblanketed in the waters of eternity. Your body is a vessel for the will of the Order. Within these waters, there is no past, there is no shame, there is no regret. You are forgiven before forgiveness is asked.”

I stared down at the pool below the edge of my veil and noted the milky consistency of the water; how it glowed like moonslight regardless of being in this deep dark place shielded from the sky.

“You may stand, and I ask that you each carefully enter the pool as you are for the cleansing.”

I took that to mean fully clothed and veiled; I focused on my footing, ignoring the others’ entry, trying to make sure that I didn’t fall face-first into this water. The liquid was warm and inviting. Beneath my feet, I could feel a stone ledge running along the perimeter of the pool, making a space for me to sit and submerge myself up to my neck.

I had only been submerged briefly when I began to feel a hum deep in my bones. It was faint, but occasionally felt stronger in tiny, almost unnoticeable waves. The bath, itself, felt strange in all ways. If I had to give a description, it was like feeling younger, cleaner, stronger, more powerful all in one but light not heavy.

We all sat there in silence. Our clothing was fully soaked through as we awaited guidance from the priestess.

“May you be born of the waters and receive the blessings of the Four Mothers at first breath. Please submerge yourself fully, and upon rising, you may remove your veil and witness your new family.”

I took in a shallow breath of air and ducked under the water, drenching the final inches of my body. When I arose, I inhaled sharply, the fabric of the soaked veil pressed firmly against the outline of my face. I lifted the veil over my head and looked up, only to see familiar eyes staring back at me in horror.

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