“The people of Oikoumene—Oikoumenians—are rather easily distinguishable from most Terrans. Most Oikoumenians you encounter will have ebony skin and dark hair, although there is some variance there. However, without exception, they all have glowing, silver-grey eyes.”

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

  Nikos found himself on his knees, staring up at Cassie as she flinched, stumbling back. Theonides turned his head away, his voice grim. “Forsaken.”

  Two guards broke from the ceremonial wall as sobs wracked her body, her voice raw and cracking as a horrible wail escaped her. Before Cassie could even try to flee, gloved hands clamped down on her arms. Cassie kicked and struggled, her heels scraping uselessly against the stone as she was dragged forward, her cries echoing across the square.

  Nikos forced his trembling legs to move. He rose, heart pounding, and surged toward her—only for a pair of hands to seize his cloak and yank him back.

  “Stop!” Selinia hissed.

  He twisted to face her, furious. “She’s going to die!”

  “You’ll die with her!” Selinia snapped, grabbing the collar of his tunic.

  Nikos hesitated for only a second—but that was too long. With a thunderous crash, the enormous wooden doors to the church slammed closed, and Cassie’s sobs vanished from his ears. He twisted in her grip, searching for her—but she was gone, consumed by the church.

  His heart screamed at him to follow, but his body stayed rooted.

  She was going to die. Just like Mother. Just like Father. Just like his brother.

  A coldness spread through him, making it harder to breathe. His chest felt tight. At his side, his hands shook. He clenched them, nails biting into his palms, trying to steady himself.

  Selinia yanked on his arm, dragging him a step deeper into the crowd. “Get a grip, damn it! Cassie’s going to die!”

  “I know that!”

  “We need to leave to save her!” Selinia said heatedly, pulling again. And this time, grinding his teeth, he let her drag him through the crowd.

  Nikos didn’t remember how they got to the edge of the square—only the pressure of Selinia’s hand, and the churning fire in his chest. The world around him was a blur of faces and movement, but none of it registered. Not until the noise of the crowd had faded behind them.

  They stopped in an alleyway, standing beneath an overhang. Nikos leaned heavily against the wall, his hand still shaking. Across from him, Selinia watched him carefully.

  He exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment. In the last couple of minutes, his fury had sunk deeper, hardening into something more focused. Still, he took a couple more to still his hands and steady his breathing.

  When he opened his eyes again, they were clear.

  “We only have a few hours before Cassie will be sacrificed to the Incarnation of Múrián,” he said. His voice was steady now. “We’re going to get her out.”

  Selinia blinked, caught off guard by the change. “How?”

  “When the procession starts, distract the guards,” he said.

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  Her brows drew together. “And how do you want me to do that?”

  Nikos stepped away from the wall. “I imagine watching the Hierophant’s house go up in smoke should suffice.”

  He had spent far too long agonizing over today to not have made plans.

  Beneath a canopy of stiff and strangely sharp orange leaves, Selinia, wreathed in a cloak of the same color, was strapping saddlebags to the back of her mount—the most expensive relic of her upbringing.

  Jelhan, the salkor, stood on four long, robust legs, ending in clawed, three-toed feet. His body was barrel-shaped, with a broad chest and a strong, slightly sloped back. He was covered in rough, matte orange scales, and adorning the end of his sturdy tail was a small club of bone. His neck was short and broad, holding aloft a wedge-shaped head that tapered into a blunt, armored snout, nostrils flaring as he snorted unhappily at her. Once finished, she scratched behind the two broad, ear-like frills that extended from the sides of its head, and he let out a sigh.

  “Don’t be so lazy,” Selinia told him as she stepped back. If he was upset by this much, she could only imagine how he’d act later.

  Turning away, she stepped through the open door to her cabin, her glowing silver eyes casting pale light across its dark interior. No matter what happened, she would not be seeing its cozy interior ever again.

  She drew in a slow breath, trying not to think about their countless problems too much. They would cross those bridges when they got to them. For now… she wasn’t willing to let Cassie die, either.

  Crossing the cabin, she brushed aside the edges of the thick quilt that hung haphazardly off the side of her bed, half-covering her quiver. She ran her hands over the familiar, weathered leather. She’d long since come to find comfort in the weight of it at her side—it felt strangely grounding.

  She lifted it, the arrows within rattling slightly despite the leather spacer as they shifted with the movement.

  The quiver was well-crafted, one of the last relics of her upbringing, along with her bow. The coat of arms of her false family was still stitched into the dark leather, running along its side, marring it much like it had marred her. She unfastened the long strap attached to it, draping it diagonally across her body, from her left shoulder to her right hip.

  The top of it rested just below her ribs, the mouth of the quiver facing slightly forward so she could draw arrows with a simple twist of her wrist. The weight was comfortable and familiar, even though the quiver was filled to its full capacity—twenty arrows in total. Each one was neatly fletched, their sharp tips glinting as they shifted slightly.

  She threaded the quiver’s belt loop onto her belt. With one last pull of the strap, she ensured the quiver would remain where it was even through movement.

  Finally, her hand came to rest on the bow case.

  She could still barely believe it had come to this. She’d hoped it wouldn’t. The odds of Cassie being forsaken as well were so low.

  ‘So much for that,’ Selinia thought.

  Theonides stood over the small girl, who sat alone on the ground, streaks of tears still running down her cheeks. Their grief always made him feel bad—evil, even. His heart ached, but he knew it was for the greater good.

  Still, he could at least comfort her.

  “Is there anything you would like, child?” Theonides asked.

  He received no response. He sighed, kneeling in front of the child and gently clasping her hands.

  “I am not a cruel man. I do not take pleasure in this,” he said quietly. “I would like to bring you one last joy before your sacrifice. Ask for something, please.”

  Her silver eyes suddenly focused, meeting his gaze. They were so innocent and beautiful. He hated that he had to kill her.

  “I want to see Nikos,” the child said, her voice hoarse from crying.

  Theonides sighed at the mention of her guardian. The unfortunate man was a heretic. He could not be allowed to see the sacrifice.

  “...Is there anything else you might want?” Theonides asked.

  “Go away,” the child said, her voice cracking as she jerked her hands away from him.

  Theonides leaned back on his heels and didn’t respond, watching as tears began to resume their flow, her body trembling as she fought to hold back a sob. Theonides’ eyes stung.

  “Why?” The child finally asked, her voice choked.

  He hated being honest with these children, but he had to be. He was not an evil man. He was a good person.

  “It’s my fault. It was me. I chose you,” Theonides said, his face wet. “It’s for a greater good, Cassie.”