“It has been rather difficult to translate the time period of Oikoumene into our own, because they did not have a particularly effective way to measure their time periods—and, of course, the planet is no more. From what I have been able to gather, however, the days there lasted an equivalent to two and a half Terran months; or four ‘quadrants’, as they measured it. These four quadrants, encompassing dawn, day, dusk and night, were composed of fifteen ‘solens’, each ‘solen’ seeming to last something like thirty hours. So, a year to us would be five of their cycles—their days, really—long.”

  —The notes of Min Seo-hyeon, recovered posthumously.

  Beneath his cloak, Nikos held Cassie’s trembling hand in his own, squeezing it comfortingly as they neared Tarrow’s center. The cacophony of the crowd gathered there was audible long before it had become visible.

  Outwardly, he presented a calm facade for Cassie. Inwardly, it took all his will to keep his own hands from trembling.

  Today was the day of the Ceremony, where all children who’d reached the age of fifty cycles would receive their God’s Markings and officially gain many responsibilities and privileges, like holding down proper apprenticeships. It would be a happy occasion for most, but it had not gone well for Nikos even once.

  “Everything’ll be fine,” Nikos told Cassie as they rounded a bend in the streets, finally arriving before the still-growing crowd at Tarrow’s center. He paused, sidling a bit closer to Cassie. “You’re way ahead of most kids your age. After you get through today, you’ve already got an apprenticeship with Thalia lined up for you. It might as well be, at least.”

  Cassie looked up at him, her faintly-glowing silver eyes searching his. Nikos smiled, straightening out her excellently-braided hair, decorated with flakes of white stone to provide a stark contrast to her dark hair and skin. At least, that’s how Thalia had explained it.

  She relaxed slightly, apparently finding him confident enough. In regards to acting calm when he was not, he’d become a rather good actor.

  “If you say so,” Cassie said, a little unsure. “Where’s Selinia?”

  “She shouldn’t be much longer. Hopefully,” he answered as Cassie leaned on him, resting her head against his arm. She hummed in response.

  While they waited, Nikos took in the city center. It was wide and circular, its stone plaza decorated with unlit lanterns strung across the surrounding buildings—the only source of light during the night. None of the buildings stood taller, or more oppressive, than the church. It loomed above the rest, and carved high up into the sides of the church sides were four immense statues of Múrián, Sovereign of the Tides, their arms outstretched, sapphire eyes gazing coldly down at the city of mortals beneath them. Mosaic glass adorned its walls, catching the pale-blue light of the sun and scattering it across the floor of the church.

  Its front, sprawling into the city center, was lined with guards in ceremonial dress—freshly cleaned, though the wear and tear of it was still visible. They formed a barrier on the marble steps, separating the crowd from the priests stationed above, robed and silent.

  Nikos grimaced, his chest tightening. It had been years, but the sight of it still pulled something taut in him.

  Cassie nudged his arm. “It’s going to happen soon. She’s going to be late.”

  “I know,” Nikos grumbled, peering into the crowd, but he didn’t see her. “She’ll—“

  “Did you miss me?”

  The familiar voice came from behind. Nikos turned with a sigh to find a grinning Selinia, her orange cloak looking like wings draped around her outstretched arms. She was a bit taller than he was, although a bit thinner as well. Her dark skin was a bit paler than his or Cassie’s, since she spent most of her time beneath the forest’s canopy. Her hair was clean but still wet, although fortunately braided—she was oftentimes too lazy to braid it whenever she was on her own.

  “Selinia!” Cassie said enthusiastically, lunging into the embrace and vanishing beneath the orange cloak.

  His nerves were frayed enough that it didn’t bring a smile to his face. Selinia frowned as she met his gaze, but neither had time to say anything before the crowd suddenly fell quiet.

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  Nikos turned around again, facing the church’s front as the small gathering of priests stepped aside, making way for a murderer.

  Numerous cheers rose up from the crowd as Hierophant Theonides Tarrow exited the church. The priests had retreated into the background while the guards ducked their heads, making it easier to see the man as he slowly approached the edge of the elevated church’s entrance, each footfall somehow audible over the ambient sounds of the crowd. His hair, tied back into a single braid that trailed behind him, skimming the ground, was decorated with shards of sapphire. A light, friendly smile was worn over his aged features. Prestigious robes hung from his frame, his chest bare to reveal his God’s Marking—a simple depiction of Múrián, who Tarrow primarily worshipped.

  Dozens of symbols branched off of the Marking, representing his many achievements, the largest a depiction of a figure standing atop a mountain, arms spread wide, representing their—and thus his—closeness to the gods.

  Nikos was suddenly very grateful that Cassie was with Selinia as he clasped his chest, trying to steady his breathing.

  Fifty-five cycles ago, his brother had knelt before Theonides. The Hierophant had taken out the small, luxurious box that contained his birthstone, lifting back its lid… to find it lightless. To find that he had been forsaken by the gods. Cassie would kneel before the same man. The Hierophant would take out the small, luxurious box that contained her birthstone…

  An arm suddenly fell around his shoulder, pressing his braids into the back of his neck. To his right, Selinia—the arm’s owner—looked concerned as she stared out at the Hierophant. On the other side of her, he could see her holding Cassie’s hand, but her cloak fortunately obscured Cassie’s view of him.

  Nikos followed Selinia’s gaze back to the Hierophant, his final, thunderous footfall still faintly resounding through the city center. His arms folded behind him, he looked over the crowd solemnly, a faint, gratingly benevolent smile playing on his lips. He said nothing, but the crowd fell silent enough that he could hear a pin drop. A full second later, Theonides finally cleared his throat.

  “It is wondrous that so many have gathered here today, under the watchful eyes of the gods, to witness this occasion. Today, we stand upon the precipice of a great change in the lives of the next generation,” the Hierophant said stately. “For the young, this is a day of transformation—a day where the path they walk will be accompanied by our beloved makers far above us. Today, the gods, who have watched over us since the first winds stirred the waters, will join their beloved children in walking their paths.”

  The speech, which he had heard numerous versions of many times before, faded into the background. Resentment and anxiety warred in his heart, and it only served to make him feel worse. He gripped the hem of his cloak tightly, trying to focus on anything but the murderer whom everyone loved. His heart was pounding and his chest rose and fell erratically in spite of his best efforts.

  “...Do you want me to take her?” Selinia offered quietly.

  Nikos shook his head quickly—and, sensing the end, Nikos returned his attention to Theonides.

  “...of course. But let us not delay any further, and allow the young their eternal, divine companions. The eldest of the children, Theron, may now approach.”

  The crowd shifted slightly as a pair moved forward—a mother and her son. She led him to the steps, where the volunteer guards parted but allowed only the boy, Theron, past. Theonides accepted a luxurious box from one of the priests behind him and, holding it out, he opened it facing the crowd. Reaching in blindly, he removed the birthstone from the box, lifting the stone above his head for all to see.

  The stone, pale gray like all others, glowed white. The gods had not forsaken him. Theonides nodded solemnly, stepping to the side and gently ushering Theron into the crowd of priests behind him, where the boy’s God’s Marking would be decided.

  One by one, the children went. Cassie was one of the youngest among them, meaning she would be one of the last to go.

  Nikos became more and more terrified as the numbers dwindled.

  Because there had never been a year in which there had been no forsaken.

  By the time it was finally Cassie’s turn, there were only three other children who had not yet gone, as far as he could recall. Gritting his teeth, he forced his hands to still and shrugged off Selinia’s comfort and took Cassie’s hand.

  His mind spun as they moved through the crowd, the looks of scorn directed at him going unnoticed. He felt lightheaded by the time they made it to the wall of guards.

  Cassie glanced back at him, anxious. The shaking in her hand, still cradled within his, did not lessen. He must have been unable to hide his terror this time.

  “Cassie,” Nikos said, his voice weaker and more unsure than he’d meant for it to be. Forcing some confidence into it, he continued as he gently ushered her up the stairs and stepped back. “Good luck.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Cassie echoed, her voice wavering slightly.

  Agonizingly slowly, Cassie ascended the stairs. Nikos could hear the sound of rushing blood in his ears as she arrived before the Hierophant, who gave her a warm smile as he accepted another luxurious box from a priest. Holding it out, he touched the lid and pulled it open.

  He was too close to see the stone, obscured by the box itself. Nikos heard some gasps from behind him, and he paled. Frowning, Theonides reached into the box and withdrew the birthstone, lifting it above his head for all to see.

  Nikos’ legs gave out.

  It was lifeless.