Page 46 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
But they weren’t candles. They were rings. Two rings of fire. They seemed intelligent, aware, and as she drew still closer, she realized they weren’t rings at all, but eyes—
The dream changed.
…
“Do I have to scry tonight?” Ten-year-old Harrow complained as her mother set a copper basin of water on the ground before her.
Taking a seat and crossing her legs beneath her skirts, Mellora stroked her daughter’s hair, tucking an unruly curl behind the tip of her pointed ear.
“A Seer should practice scrying every day,” Mellora explained. “That way, her connection to the Water stays strong, and the element can work through her. It’s important, Harrow, especially now.”
The women of their clan were gathered around a crackling fire, their caravans a short distance away, their horses tethered to the trees nearby. The sky was black, the stars hidden by the light of the full moon. Across the flames, Luthera studied her casting stones upon the forest floor with deep concentration. The others shared cups of soothing lemon-ginger tea.
No one spoke, and the air was thick with sorrow and tension. Harrow knew her clan was worried. Her mother had tried to shield her from the worst, but she was old enough to put things together.
Something was hunting them.
Across the Territories, the Seer clans were dying…and it was only a matter of time before theirs was next.
“Now, where do we begin?” Mellora nudged Harrow, forcing a smile.
“Focusing on the water in the bowl,” Harrow replied, no longer wishing to complain about the lesson.
“That’s correct. Let your eyes be still, listen to your breath, and when you feel the Water rise inside you, surrender to it.”
Forcing her tired eyes to focus, Harrow watched the ripples in the bowl reflect the colors of the fire until it appeared she was looking directly at the flames themselves. It seemed strange that water could appear so like its opposing force.
After a time, Mellora declared her effort satisfactory for the night. “You’re falling asleep sitting up,” she said with a chuckle. “Let’s get you to bed.” Climbing to her feet, she smoothed her dress and held out a palm.
Just as Harrow placed her hand in her mother’s, Luthera let out a small cry from the other side of the fire. She looked up, her expression stark. A sense of dread overtook Harrow, and she stood quickly and pressed against her mother’s side.
“It has found us,” Luthera whispered. “It’s too late.”
Gasps sounded around the fire. Someone murmured fervent prayers to the Goddess.
Harrow tugged on her mother’s hand. “Mama?”
Mellora looked down at her with wide, frightened eyes. “My love, I want you to run into the forest. Don’t look back, no matter what happens.”
“Mama, no—”
“It’s already here.” Luthera extended a shaking hand to point at the sky.
Above, the full belly of the moon cast her light over their forest clearing. The sky around it was pitch-black.
A shadow streaked across the moon’s face.
Collectively, the Seers’ magic rose in response to the threat until it crackled in the air like a lightning storm.
“Harrow, go!” Mellora pushed her daughter toward the trees.
“Death descends upon us,” Luthera breathed. “The last Seer clan falls prey to the shadows.”
“Now, Harrow!”
But in the end, she couldn’t run.
Cowering beneath the wreckage of an upturned caravan, Harrow hid with her palms pressed against her ears, trying to drown out the screams.
