Page 32 of Synodic

Magnificent, commanding, and implicitly authoritative, the woman walked right up to me; her intense stare making me stand straighter.

By the way she navigated the world with her walking stick, I could tell she was blind or nearly there. But the power emanating from her every pore was palpable; strength a part of her very essence.

She was fierce to behold.

“So you’re the disturbance lingering at my doorstep,” she said, shocking me with her blunt address. She spoke as if she already knew me. “Welcome to the Wyn, child, though I can’t say for how long. It is up to the Summit to decide how the fate of your stars aligns with ours.” Her voice was sure and resounding, with only a hint of the many years lived.

I shot a glance to Takoda, waiting for an explanation or introduction. “Nepta is the heart, voice, and eyes of our village,” he said, gesturing to the formidable woman standing before me. “Born under the Astrellan black moon, master of energy, and speaker of the night, she is the Elven-head of the Wyn people.”

The etiquette for how to respond to such an introduction was beyond me. Do I curtsy? Do I bow? Somehow, nothing felt adequate. “Thank you for allowing me into your home,” I said, hoping that was a safe place to start.

“Indeed, outsiders are rare to our village,” she responded, and I sensed something deep behind her opaque eyes dissecting my very essence, peeling away at the shadows I used to protect myself. “Your presence demands explanation. Why are you here? Have you come to spread the sickness that devours these lands?”

My blood ran cold. “No, I—”

“Do you possess markings of any kind upon your flesh?”

“Um…I don’t think so.”

“Who sent you?”

“No one—”

“Are you aware of the Synodic Prophecy?”

“The what?”

“The star-cast prophecy that speaks of a returning light?”

“No, but—”

One by one, she bombarded me with similarly brusque questions, barely registering my answers before demanding yet another reply to something I knew absolutely nothing about.

“This is one of the last thriving lands in the territory, and I refuse to watch it succumb to the sickness closing in around us. You will not be the cause of that fall.”

I was stunned silent, grasping at how to respond like a stage actor struggling for their next line, leaving an enthralled audience waiting on the edge of their seats. Everyone was watching and waiting as if I knew what to say or understood any of this. “I have no desire to harm you or your people in any way.”

“I’m supposed to trust the word of a half-faded creature such as yourself? Even now, you wane like the fading moon.”

My body flinched; Nepta saw me with much more than her eyes, and it unnerved me that the masks I hid behind didn’t stand a chance against her. She could see into the deepest parts of my soul, could read me as plainly as an open book. I’d always felt half alive, and here she was outright confirming it.

“She could be who the Synodic Prophecy spoke of,” Takoda said.

“The prophecy spoke of a son, not a daughter.” Nepta motioned at me with exhausted regret. “And she said it herself. There are no such markings upon her body. Our hope must be found elsewhere. I have more at stake than the life of one girl, however strange her sudden appearance to this land may be.”

Takoda looked at me with a sigh. “Whatever she is, she is stirring the forest. Never have we heard of so many summoning-demons on our borders.”

“There is only one capable of such conjurings, and what Erovos could want with this young creature is still a mystery, but it cannot bode well. She must remain here until the Summit decides what’s to be done with her,” Nepta commanded with finality, each wrinkle on her face a hard battle fought and won.

Being publicly exposed, embarrassed, and put on the spot like this was a nightmare all of its own, and I pulled at the hem of my sleeve, wishing I could disappear.

Everyone around me seemed uneasy as well, shifting like disturbed seafoam upon the water. I didn’t blame them, I’d just been accused of bringing demons to their sanctuary. But I quickly realized they weren’t moving from ill-ease at all. They were parting for someone making their way to the front of the crowd.

A dark presence I’d recognize anywhere maneuvered through the white-haired strangers, and my breath caught in my throat.

Rowen had been here the entire time? Witnessing my verbal and very public trial without so much as saying a word? It couldn’t be true what they were saying. Surely he would set the record straight.

But his intentions were unreadable, and he didn’t even spare me a glance as he walked into the circle of spectators. His brown hair fell in thick tendrils around his stern face, and his tan skin was brushed with the slightest of sun-kissed glows.

---