Page 79 of The Cerulean Sister
I'd love nothing more than to unleash my light on this pathetic little man. I'm wondering now if he is prolonging this process just to hold some control over me.
He suddenly stands upright when Crixa enters my cell, more guards and the scribe behind her.
"She is ready," he says and bows his head.
Crixa crosses the dark cell and begins reciting the same words she always does with little emotion. She says them quickly, swiping the moon water across her face and waiting for me to repeat after her each time.
I know them by heart now, but I wait, body tensing as each verse gets us closer to the end.
She places my hand in the water, and I recite my portion as I have every time, as I did the first day I professed my vows. As I finish, I look up at her and am met with such disgust that I forget for a moment what comes next.
"Lord Hollis," she calls, pouring out the moon water on the floor. "With all your might."
I cry out before the blow lands on my hand, the force enough to break a bone. This time, I positioned my hand in the cup so that my fingernails would not take the brunt of the strike.
He winds up over his shoulder and hits the top of my hand twice in hard succession, but the third time he misses and hits the top of my wrist, cutting into the softer flesh.
"Enough," Crixa says as she slowly exits.
Lord Hollis squats, but I try not to look at him as I pant to catch my breath, some of them coming out as whines at the new lashes and the old, reopened ones.
He traces his fingers across the tops of my hand like he did before, the motion sickeningly tender, like he is remembering our moment right before Crixa entered, when he could touch me without consequence and drain me.
I remember that moment too, what he said and how he described my gift.
Little green lights.
He only saw a flash of it when he took it from me in the temple, but he didn't see what came forth in the grand hall.
Little, my light is not.
It was likely described to him by the emperor or Crixa as something insignificant, as she does not want herself or the temple to seem weak, covering up what I did. Even blaming the destruction on the Viathans who helped me.
Admitting the truth that I blew her across that room and cut down her guards like it was nothing would be an embarrassment.
And now I know what she wants from me.
What my whole life has been about.
Ascension.
Crixa has me hidden in this cell until I confess that I have ascended so that no other lesser priestess can gain what I have: manifested gifts without ascension.
I am a threat to the control that hangs in the balance, one held up by the thing we are all promised if we are good, devoted and we blindly listen to our highest.
It does not matter that it is not true, that I do not believe it, or even if they do. It doesn't matter that I have not had an ascension ritual or celebration, only that I am willing to say that I have acquired my ability through traditional means.
"Wait, highest priestess, I beg you," I call with winded breath. "Ascension . . . I will confess to it."
Her footsteps halt, the exaggerated click of them returning, drawing my head to the side to meet her.
"Tell me why you lied. To undermine the temple?" she asks.
"I was so . . . angry."
"Angry?"
"At First Mother. I had to prove my devotion at great lengths while others simply prayed. I risked my life to be found worthy and my gifts were so small." The confession comes to me naturally because it's not a full lie. The resentment almost ate me alive when I did exactly what I was told and was still not good enough.
