Page 9 of The Shattered Rite
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind:“Your eyes may fail you. But your soul will always know the way.”
With a deep breath, she stepped into the light with clouded eyes and steady feet.
Her vision made it harder to grasp. Shadows blended. Colors warped. Still, the center of her gaze held some clarity—fleeting, like water slipping through her fingers.
The steady fog that once hovered at the corners of her sight had begun to encroach. Faces blurred. Landmarks softened. Even voices sometimes felt sharper than what her eyes could give her.
But she had learned to move through uncertainty.
She lifted her chin and steadied her breath.
Then came the hoofbeats.
Not rushed. Not loud. Just steady—four beats pressing into the earth like a summons.
Three riders appeared at the edge of the village, cloaked in ash-colored wool, their armor dulled with wear. Their sigils were visible even in the distance: a crown cracked clean through, encircled by tongues of fire.
Guards for the Trials of Sovereignty.
She turned on her heel, with a speed born of certainty, and rushed back into the house one final time.
She lit the first ember nest beneath the window. The second near the hearth. The third at the threshold.
The fire caught fast.
As the smoke thickened and the beams began to groan, Eliryn stepped outside, closing the door behind her with quiet finality. The blooming heat pulsed against her back, swelling with each breath.
It felt wrong, leaving her mother behind.
But Eliryn couldn't afford to be sentimental. Not anymore. That part of her burned too.
She stepped down from the doorway and stood tall, her hands clenched tight behind her back. Every muscle was a taut string. Every breath, measured.
She had no intention of breaking—no matter how they looked at her. Weak. Quiet. The healer’s daughter. The one too frail to carry the weight of her family’s lost legacy.
The villagers gathered, but not for her. They lined the dirt path like ghosts, speaking in hushed voices. No farewells. No blessings. No offerings.
Their silence said enough.
Eliryn kept her chin high anyway. Let them think what they wanted.
Her throat tightened with unease, but she swallowed it down.
She turned toward the waiting riders. They hadn’t moved. Still as stone, as though they had always been there.
She took a breath.
One step.
Then another.
Ashes curled into the morning air. Behind her, the roof collapsed with a hiss of sparks.
Each step took her farther from the only home she’d ever known.
Closer to the ancient purpose that had waited lifetimes to claim her.
Chapter 3: The Weight of Smoke
