Page 47 of The Spark that Ignites
Emmery nodded, her gaze fixated on the altar and the strange statue. Carved into the chalice were six hooded figures, their long hair and curves indicating they were women. A phoenix and long fanged lion, tangled in an intimate embrace, stood at the forefront of the chalice, each goddess reaching for them.
Vesper unsheathed a dagger from his belt and held out his hand. “There’s a blood offering before the trial,” he said to the question in Emmery’s eyes. “Just a small cut.”
She pursed her lips. “You demons and your blood rituals.”
“I think you mean,usdemons andourblood rituals.”
Retrieving her dagger, Emmery gripped it with bleached knuckles, trying to hide the tremor in her fingers. She needed to pull herself together.
“Make sure you get the blood in the chalice.”
Emmery frowned. “And where else would I put it, Vesper?”
He grinned.
Emmery laid the dagger along her palm, wincing at the blade’s bite. Blood welled and she squeezed her hand over the chalice. Crimson droplets fell one by one into the cup. A beat passed, but much to Emmery’s relief, the chalice slowly glowed in acceptance. Vesper reached into his pouch and offered a swatch of fabric to wrap her wound.
He gestured to the spring. “Take the chalice and dip it in the water.”
The chalice warmed in her unbandaged hand. Stepping towards the shore the still, opaque spring now flowed, and she filled the tarnished chalice halfway with ebony water. Emmery returned to Vesper, clutching it so hard her fingers ached. “Now what?”
With a stupid smirk, he nodded at the murky water laced with her blood. “Drink it.”
Colour drained from her face. “You can’t be serious.” She waited for a reveal of some jest, but none came. “That’s disgusting.”
“Trust me, it’s really not bad.” He nodded at the cup. “Bottoms up.”
Trust him? Emmery cursed.
As she stared into the chalice, her head swam. Swaying on her feet, reality hit her like a fist to the face. She was about to enter some deadly trial that she may never wake from.
This could be her last moment. Her last breath. Last heartbeat.
Emmery’s ears rang and she gritted her teeth against the panic.
She looked up from the chalice, missing all the words he’d said.
“It’s going to be alright,” he assured and rested a hand on her shoulder again. “Take a deep breath.”
She did but the tension remained. “Vesper?”
Hearing the quake in her voice, he bent to eye level. “Emmery?”
“Please—” Her heart threatened to give out. “Don’t let me die.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He sounded so certain, he could keep her from Death’s grip. It did little to soothe her nerves but at least he played along.
Vesper squeezed her shoulder before letting his arm fall to his side. “Take your time.”
She paced the spring shore for what could have been minutes or hours. Her legs needed movement. This moment was too big to be still. Vesper sat on the edge of the clearing, flipping a knife in his hand. He was surprisingly quiet as she untangled her knotted thoughts.
All she had to do was drink and the trial would start and devour her mind. It was only the fear of failure holding her back. Well, also the threat of death. But she needed her magic. Not only to help Vesper, but to finally know herself.
To feel what she could do. Tobelonghere.
So, Emmery plugged her nose, tipped the cup back, and downed half of it in one large swallow. Vesper’s low voice fell tothe background as the surprisingly sweet liquid danced on her tongue and Emmery drained the cup, licking her lips greedily.
A wave of dizziness overtook her, like her organs were being rearranged, her blood reversing its flow.
