The journey back to the orphanage was a blur of cobblestone streets and fading sunlight, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and chimney smoke. Liora walked beside me, her silver hair catching the amber glow of dusk, while Nadine led the group with her usual quiet intensity. Mira and Ivy trailed behind, their laughter sharp and bright—a brittle contrast to the unease coiling in my gut.
"You're quieter than you were before, future ImprintWeaver," Liora remarked, glancing at me sidelong. Her voice was light, but her eyes held a flicker of curiosity.
I shrugged it off while starting to focus on the journey. "Just thinking about the ceremony. The priest's offer… it felt off."
"The Holy Church always wants something," Nadine muttered without turning around. "They don't recruit. They collect. The boys that were living in the orphanage before you were all collected one day after their awakening, and we never heard from them again."
Mira snorted. "Since when did you become a theologian, Nad? Next you'll be quoting scripture."
"Since they started eyeing Kael like a prize pig," Nadine shot back, her tone icy but filled with protectiveness.
Ivy tugged at Mira's sleeve, her cheerful facade lightening the mood. "Do you think Sister Kat made honey cakes? She promised if Kael awakened something good!"
"When," Mira corrected, ruffling Ivy's hair. "Not if. Our little Kael's destined for greatness. Right, Liora?"
Liora's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Destiny's a fickle tailor. It weaves as easily as it unravels."
The banter died as we reached the city's edge, where the clamor of Stel City faded into the rustle of wind through birch trees. The orphanage loomed ahead, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy, the garden Sister Kat tended now overgrown with twilight shadows. A crow cawed from the rooftop, its beady eyes tracking our approach.
Ivy froze first.
"Do you… feel that?" she whispered, clutching the ends of her clothes tightly, like she was afraid of some horror. Her knuckles whitened from the pressure she exerted while holding the fabric.
"Feel what?" I frowned, scanning the empty porch. It seemed normal to me, so I couldn't understand what warranted the expression Ivy was wearing. Though there were some changes—no creak of rocking chairs, no smell of rosemary bread, just silence—I still didn't think it warranted her dread.
Nadine drew her dagger from where she'd hidden it, the blade glinting like a shard of ice. "Stay behind me."
Liora arched a brow. "Dramatic, aren't we?"
"Sister Kat always greets us," Ivy insisted, her voice trembling. "Always. Even that time Mira set the kitchen on fire."
Mira glared but didn't argue. I guess that was one of her embarrassing pasts she wanted to hide.
Nadine motioned for silence and crept forward, her boots barely disturbing the gravel. I followed, my pulse thundering in my ears. The orphanage door hung slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness gaping like a wound.
The first thing I noticed was the smell—iron and rot, cloying and wrong.
"No," Ivy gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Sister Kat lay sprawled on the hearth rug, her white hair fanned out like a halo. The Broken Crown sigil—a circle split by a jagged line—had been carved into her palm, the blood long dried to rust. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing.
'This is my fault.' This was the thought that popped into my head.
The thought struck like a hammer. Priest Lir's oily smile flashed in my mind. 'The Church raised me—I wouldn't betray their kindness.' My awakening, my Codex of Myths—had I painted a target on her back? A jagged fragment of memory surfaced, likely from before I'd gained consciousness in this body. Laughter, tears, and all the interactions with Sister Kat flooded me with intense emotions.
I staggered, gripping the doorframe.
"Kael?" Liora's hand steadied me. "Breathe."
Mira staggered against the wall, retching. Nadine knelt, her dagger clattering to the floor as she pressed two fingers to Sister Kat's throat. A futile gesture.
"Who…?" Ivy choked out, tears streaking her face.
Liora hovered in the doorway, her face eerily calm. "The Holy Church," she said softly. "They leave that mark on traitors."
"Traitors?" I echoed, my voice hollow. I didn't understand how Sister Kat was a traitor to them.
"Those who defy their 'divine will.'" Liora's gaze drifted to the mantel, where Sister Kat's journal lay open. A single page was torn out.
I still didn't understand. Just because they, for some fucked-up reason, believed she'd betrayed their divine will? It flared and angered me so much. I punched the closest wall, yelling, "Why the hell?!" My knuckles split, blood smearing the wood.
Nadine stood abruptly, her composure splintering. "We need to go. Now."
"Go?" Mira hissed. "We can't just leave her—"
"They'll be back," Nadine snapped. "Or do you want to join her?"
Ivy whimpered, clutching my arm. "Kael, please…"
But I couldn't move. Sister Kat's face swam in my vision—her laugh lines, the scar on her cheek from a long-ago kitchen accident, the way she'd hum lullabies while stitching our clothes. Gone.
A cold hand gripped my shoulder.
"Grieve later," Liora murmured, her breath grazing my ear. "Right now, you need to survive."
We fled into the forest, the orphanage burning behind us—Nadine's doing. "No evidence," she'd said, her voice dead. "No proof."
Ivy sobbed into Mira's shoulder as we ran, branches clawing at our clothes. Liora moved like a ghost, her steps silent, her eyes scanning the trees.
"Where are we going?" I panted.
"Somewhere they won't find us," Nadine said.
"They who?" Mira demanded.
But Nadine didn't answer.
By midnight, we reached a crumbling watchtower, its stones veiled in ivy. Ivy collapsed against a wall, exhaustion overriding grief. Mira crouched beside her, humming a shaky lullaby.
Liora approached me, holding out Sister Kat's journal. "You should take this."
I flinched. "Why?"
"Because," she said, her gaze piercing, "the missing page? It had your name on the little part left on it."
Nadine whirled, her dagger raised. "How do you know that symbol? How do you know any of this?"
Liora didn't flinch. "The Broken Crown isn't just a threat. It's a message. A warning." Her voice hardened. "My family was murdered by the Holy Church when I was twelve. My father spoke against their doctrines—called them 'parasites in holy robes.' They slaughtered my parents and carved that same sigil into our door. I hid under the floorboards. Listened to them die."
The air thickened. Ivy's sobs quieted.
"Why tell us now?" Nadine hissed.
"Because you're not the only ones they've hunted." Liora's composure cracked, revealing raw fury. "And because Kael's awakening is the reason they came. But it's not his fault. The Church fears what they can't control. And they also had a need for someone of Kael's potential if they went this far." She turned to me, her tone softening. "You didn't choose this. You're not at fault or the cause. They did, and they are at fault."
She was right, but it still hurt. It made my heart ache.
"We can't stay here," Liora said. "The Church will track you. Come to my village. It's isolated. Safe. For you all, for now."
Mira scoffed. "And why should we trust you?"
"You shouldn't," Liora said flatly. "But you're out of options."
Nadine sheathed her dagger, her glare lingering on Liora. "If you betray us, I'll kill you myself."
"Understood."
Ivy fell asleep first, curled like a child against Mira. Nadine kept watch at the tower's slit window, her silhouette sharp against the moon.
Liora settled beside me on the cold stone floor. "You're still blaming yourself."
I stared at the journal in my hands. "Aren't I supposed to?"
"Guilt is a luxury," she said. "One we can't afford right now."
"You sound like Nadine."
"She's right. Survival first. Mourn later." Liora hesitated, then touched my wrist. "But surviving doesn't mean forgetting. It means fighting to remember. To be able to do something when the opportunity arrives."
Her fingers were cold, but the gesture steadied me. "Why help us?"
Her thumb brushed the inside of my wrist—a fleeting, deliberate motion. "Let's call it… mutually assured destruction. The Church wants us both dead. Besides, my aunt took care of you for all her life. Even if I don't know her—or you all—too well, I did hear much about her from my mom. This is what she would've wanted me to do."
"Poetic and kind too."
"I'm a merchant. I prefer 'pragmatic.'" A ghost of a smile. "Rest, Kael. Tomorrow's a long journey."
She moved away, leaving me with the weight of her words—and the ghost of her touch.
Dawn bled through the trees as we left the tower. Ivy clung to Mira, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. Nadine marched ahead, her distrust of Liora etched into every stride.
Liora fell into step beside me, her voice low. "The village is three days' walk. We'll need supplies."
"I'll hunt," Nadine called without turning.
"I'll help," Liora said.
Nadine's scoff was answer enough.
"Let's pick up the pace, guys," Mira said, hoisting Ivy onto her back. "We've got a village to get to."
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