Page 7 of The Trials of Ophelia

Missyneth picked up Damien’s candle. “As Mystique Warriors are forged in flame and delivered to it upon their death, so their ruler shall be affirmed.”

The book’s leather spine cracked as Missyneth opened it, the century since the last induction weighing it down. Tattered edges lined the center—a ghost of the last used page having been torn out.

Flame from the Spirit Fire itself melted Damien’s candle. Missyneth held an elthem flower from a cypher tree up to that heat, burning its petals until ash coated the page of the book where my induction would be recorded for all of history. She dipped her thumb in the remnants and anointed me with it.

An X on each palm. “May these hands that bear weapons guide true.” One on my chest. “May this heart that beats for its brethren stand strong.”

Missyneth spread the remaining ash over the blank page in the book, then lifted a pen. Dipping it in a well of imbued ink, she held it over the gray surface. “Please recite the oath you have memorized for the occasion.”

A tingling sensation slithered through my body. The Bond on the back of my neck hummed.

“On my spirit,” I proclaimed, and Missyneth recorded my promise in the ledger. As she did, wax from Damien’s candle dripped onto the page, languid as only the magic of our Spirit Volcano could make it. The white shimmered with gold veins in the sun, spreading across the ledger, and sealing my vow with an impossibly thin sheen. It was a tangling of magics gifted from the Spirits.

“And on those who have carried this honor before me, I swear to uphold the promises of the Mystique Warriors. To guard the range and all hereby contained within, to protect and serve the Mystique Warriors, and to honor the Angel, Damien, in all I do.”

As I finished, a bead of that higher power snapped through my body. My blood quickened, my chest seizing. Head pounding.

The scar Kakias left on my arm throbbed.

Missyneth scratched the final letters of my vow in ink and wax, holding the fire over the paper until it caught flame, solidifying the oath.

And something within my body exploded.

A burst of light poured forth from my emblem necklace, there and gone in a flash like lightning, coating me with a familiar warmth. Shock rippled through the crowd, a low murmur of awe and uncertainty.

Panting, I found the Master of Rites’ eyes. Most present had never seen an induction before, but she had conducted the last two. In her timeworn stare, questions shone. Though she didn’t voice them, it was clear: that was not supposed to happen.

I laid a hand over the necklace. Metal warm but not searing, it pulsed against my palm.

Missyneth watched the movement, lips pulled tight. Our gazes caught, silence yawning between us. What do you know? I wanted to ask her. But her own suspicion glared back: What do you?

The murmurs of the crowd grew. Instead of letting it run wild, Missyneth moved to the final items on the dais. She exchanged my cloak for the Spirit shroud—a swath of silk passed from Revered to Revered—then lifted the halo from its cushion, hands trembling slightly. Shining gold vines twisted around each other, a sigil of both the power nature gifted warriors and those we honored above us.

While the halo symbolized nature, it was reminiscent of veins, and I thought of those carrying my Angelblood. Ever since Damien had visited after the battle and confirmed the Angelcurse meant I needed to seek an emblem from each Angel, I’d seen reminders of them everywhere.

Even today, during my induction, the thoughts followed me.

My heart pounded as Missyneth placed the halo on my head, and a weight of responsibility settled in its place.

“Believe in the Angels,” she began.

And the crowd answered, “Be guided by the Spirits, and align with the stars.”

“Rise, Ophelia Alabath,” Missyneth said. “Revered of the Mystique Warriors, Chosen by Spirits, Child of Angels.”

A storm of applause followed her words, led by my friends. I found my mother’s eyes and looked past the arguments we’d had, beyond the heartache we shared, and found a sense of peace between us. Beside her, my Soulguider grandmother smiled wide and knowingly at me, as if today wasn’t a surprise to her at all.

My heart beat with the title I’d just claimed. The one I’d never expected. The one I still sometimes doubted I was good enough for but would do anything to fulfill.

I swore my oath, lacing it with the blood of those I’d lost and the breath of those standing beside me, their lives on my shoulders, futures balanced in the palm of my hand, and safety poised on the end of my blade.

And though not everyone I loved was physically here, their spirits bolstered me, and I held myself up through this divine moment.

Chapter Three

Ophelia

“Thank you for today,” I said, finding Cypherion lingering at the banquet table as the sun was setting on the induction party. The celebration was understated—no elaborate decor. Just music, refreshments, and the gates open to guests.

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