Page 49 of Of Withering Dreams
I’d seen him briefly in passing a few times, but he had only offered me a polite nod or a dour expression before going about his business. Maybe he was disappointed in me. Or worse, repulsed.
A few of my peers, Druik and human alike, were wary of me after they had witnessed my gift’s revelation. I tried disregarding their apprehensive looks, disapproving glares, and blatant avoidance. But it was wearing on me, like a thousand little pinpricks under my skin.
Meanwhile, I had been diligently practicing daily, spending hours learning how to manage my power.
Control it.
Tether it.
I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, trying to relieve the tension within my muscles.
An overabundance of thoughts fell heavy upon my shoulders, pinning me to my seat. My fingers fidgeted with each other on my lap as I took a deep breath. Shifting toward the stage, my body extricated itself from Kaden’s embrace. I exhaled, feeling lighter without his hand resting on my shoulder. Melina’s words came into focus again.
“… choose to compete, every team will undergo the first test—the Weeding—which could transpire any time after this week. With the fruition of each trial, survivors will advance to the next challenge.” An unkind smile oozed over her face before she hid it behind steepled fingers.
She dipped her chin, dropping her hands to the tabletop. The pads of her fingers rested upon it as she composed herself, her face settling into indifference. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the crowd.
“Now for the prize. Each competitor on the victorious team will be rewarded with a turn’s supply of extra food rations.” Sharp intakes of breaths scattered throughout the hall. Kaden grabbed my hand, nodding at Breena and then Rhaegar. It appeared we’d need to take Breena seriously about participating in the tournament.
“Before the Ancients disappeared, our runemaster was extensively trained in the art of celestial-blessed symbols.” Melina paused, stretching her arms wide. “The victor alone will be granted a rune tattoo for their efforts—gifting them a portion of enhanced ember.” The crowd responded raucously.
Melina settled on the throne, lifting her pewter goblet and taking a delicate sip. She glanced to her side. “Ryboas?”
Elder Ash rose from his seat, his chair creaking with relief. His frown seeped into his dark eyes as they studied the crowd, pale hands gripping the lapels of his crimson robes. His voice spilled over us like dry, rough grains of sand. “At the end of this week, an oath ceremony will be held at the Elysium Tree. Each competitor must submit a blood offering to the sacred banyan. This participation oath is binding. If you break it, you will be sent to the Stygian Murk.”
He raised his chalice and recited, “May you withstand the currents of the Winnowing. For only the worthy will remain.” He sat heavily on his chair, his face drooping in total boredom as the citizens rejoiced.
I took in the people around me. Some had eyes shining with tentative hope. Others, crazed with it. My nape tingled, energy anxiously vibrating. My skin itched as if someone was watching me.
My eyes drifted to a male Akridai skulking in a shadowed corner of the stage. We all knew him—Balor Drent—as he often lurked near Melina. As one of her favored enforcers, he wasn’t someone I wanted to be caught alone with. His very presence made my skin crawl. He’d recently returned from a mission, but I wished he had stayed away.Balor played with a long strand of his slick, dark hair as he stared at me unabashedly.
An aura—slippery black grease swirling in a buttery stew—seethed around him. His tattoo burned against his neck’s sickly yellow glow. Rhaegar had recently informed me that the locust rune not only enforced an Akridai’s oath to the Elders but also tainted their ember, resulting in the oily, neon-like slurry of their auras.
Kaden followed my gaze, wrapping his arm around me and glaring at Balor. The male grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming, and then slinked after the Elders as they left the room at the back of the stage.
I pushed my plate away, leaning into Kaden’s chest. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.
The endof the week arrived too hastily.
Ten sets of potential competitors consisting of Druiks and Draumrs were strategically placed around the Elysium Tree. Various auras glimmered among the teams. No one was actively using their gift, so I knew I was the only one privy to this display.
Rhaegar appeared to be the only embered warrior from Gavrel’s unit among the candidates. I stood with him, Breena, and Kaden at one of the ten designated points, staring at the golden, oval-shaped petals resting upon the moss. Gilded rays reflected off them, melding into their delicate cups. They created a twinkling line between each team, connecting us and forming a decagon.
Numerous guards surrounded us at the edges of the wide canopy, separating us from the onlookers. The sun peeked through the flame-colored leaves above. A gentle breeze swept through the tree, making the leaves rustle and the mossy vines sway around us. I breathed in, enjoying the fragrant scents washing over me.
The crowd was copious, its restless energy buzzing through the mass in waves. An anxious flutter vibrated under the raised star on my nape. I widened my stance, focusing on the gorgeous, twisting bark of the tree before us. Its power called to me, waves of golden shimmers flickering over its gnarled surface. As if it knew unbreakable, blood-bound promises were about to be made.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Kaden muttered, squeezing my chilled hand with his warm one.
Breena winked at him, her smile stretching wide. She was about to burst with excitement. A warm, russet shade swept across her chest and rounded cheeks.
“There wasn’t a choice. We need to do all we can to win those food rations for our village,” I whispered from the side of my mouth.
He looked at me, his eyes softening. “I know, of cour?—”
His words morphed into a grunt as Rhaegar thumped a heavy hand on his shoulder, interrupting him. “We will prevail, my friends. I’m quite sure of it.” The warrior didn’t bother to whisper, the deep bass of his voice lilting. Nearby, competitors glared at us, scoffed, or rolled their eyes.
“That’s the battle fever we need!” Breena praised, clasping Rhaegar’s wrist as he reciprocated the gesture. They shook each other’s wrists enthusiastically before releasing each other. The corners of my lips threatened to lift before I turned my attention to the team on our left. I stopped myself, pulling my mask of indifference firmly in place.
