1 Alora
Ascension. One simple word. Three syllables that strike fear into our very souls, coursing through our veins like a cold sheet of ice. I can hardly breathe, can hardly contain myself as I take the walk with the fellow young women of my pack. Each step feels strained, heavy, as if my very foot has become one with the earth’s crust. My hands are clammy and my breaths are shaky, twirling the nerves in my stomach. Tonight, I meet my mother’s killer.
Ascension is the ceremony all young women must participate in. The night that we not only receive our powers, but also the very night one of us will be called upon—called to be his. Dorian, the God of Light, will choose his next woman.
I dare not call her his wife, hearing the terrible rumors that mill about the pack. Every year there is a new ceremony, a new female chosen. If picked, they’re essentially given a death sentence, a year to live away from their families. Three-hundred sixty-five days to reside with the very person who will kill them.
Tonight our souls will call forth the affinity we receive, reuniting with our magic as we embrace our birthright. I will use mine to end him. Let him pick me. It’ll be the worst mistake of his life.
I’ve seen the ceremony once before, having followed my mother on the night of hers. Normally, a young woman won’t have a child before her ascension, but she wasn’t given the choice. My mother was taken against her will the night of my conception, and again the night of her ascension. I cried out from my hiding place, running towards her when she vanished before my eyes, carried into the light and towards the very heavens with him.
I loathe him. I curse him. I want to kill him.
I was left orphaned, taken in by my aunt, and raised with my cousin Kent. He hated this day just as much as I did. We all did after mom was taken.
“You better come back,” Kent had whispered to me before I left, pulling the white lace hood of my robe over my turquoise hair. His brown eyes haunt me, full of unsaid emotions that are so easy to read. He’s worried, but he doesn’t need to be.
The light blue material of my dress is stretchy and soft against my body, letting in the cool breeze of the summer night as I take anxious steps. It’s an A-line dress that is tightly fitted over my chest, but flows freely around my ankles—the same dress that every woman around me is wearing.
My hands grip the edges of the sleeves that are just an inch too long for me as I try to contain myself. My heart is in my throat, choking me, refusing to allow me to speak. I’d be stupid to not be afraid of Dorian, but that doesn’t mean I’ll cower when he arrives.
“It’s going to be okay, Rory. There’s no way he’s going to pick you, too. Just take a breath and hold my hand,” Jacinta whispers. Her brown eyes are shining, as her red lips stretch over her pearly whites. She’s trying to be a good friend, reading my nerves as a fear of him. She’s wrong.
I take her hand, squeezing it tight, remembering just how pale she is compared to my own sandy complexion. We walk hand in hand along the lantern-lit path that leads to the center of all the neighboring packs—a large, circular clearing amongst tall trees, made of stone and floating lights, where magic flows freely through the air.
The moment we step in, seeing the other young ladies of the neighboring packs, my skin prickles. Goosebumps erupt all over me as my hair stands on end. My scalp tickles while my body buzzes, feeling my soul hum with longing for its missing part. Twenty years from our birth we must wait for this ceremony, and now it’s finally time.
“Can you feel it?” I whisper to Jancita who’s gazing absentmindedly at the stone slab in the center.
“I’m telling you…sacrifice ceremony, much?” She points to it, having her own reservations about the ascension. She doesn’t know, and I can’t speak of it. Being found where I shouldn’t have been—having seen what I shouldn’t have—the elders magically sealed my lips that night. To this day I can’t talk about my mother’s ascension aside from saying she’d been chosen.
In a wisp of air, our elder appears in the center of the large circle. She smiles at us all as she gestures for us to come further in. We take our spot where the names of the chosen women before us are carved on the stone. I find my mother’s name among them, crouching down to run my fingers over it. With a deep breath, I stand up, my feet planted over Claire Etterstein in hopes it will somehow give me strength.
The earth suddenly cracks open beside us, emerging from it the elder of the Terrawolf Pack. His dark hair shines in the moonlight despite just having traveled through the dirt. The third to arrive, struck down in lightning, blinding us all, and deafening our ears with the crack of thunder. The elder of Stormclaw Pack has hair as white as the moon and eyes as gray as the darkest rain clouds. His eyes land on my own for a brief second before turning to his girls.
Last to appear is the elder of Embermoon, arriving in a cloud of fire and smoke. We cough as we fan the air before us, unable to breathe. Our elder quickly blows it away with her wind, clearing the air for everyone. She throws a glare at Embermoon’s elder, to which she only smirks.
“Okay girls. The ceremony will commence shortly. Do not be frightened. All you must do is hold your arms out beside you, palms up and eyes closed. Focus only on your breathing and let your soul call out to what is rightfully its. Do not fear it, but openly accept it. It’s yours, it always has been.” She smiled once more, winking at us as if this is some secret she’s sharing. “Remember, eyes closed.”
I don’t have a problem with this, already knowing what happens. This part is easy. This part is what I have been looking forward to. I’m not hoping to receive a rare affinity. In fact, I’m banking on being like most of the pack and receiving air magic. I could use it to travel the skies and kill the monster that murdered my mother, even if he doesn’t choose me.
With my palms up and my head high, I open myself up. The breeze picks up around us, signifying the welcoming of air magic into those around me. Heat pricks at my skin as the person beside me receives fire magic. I wait, and wait, but nothing ever comes, just more of what everyone else is getting.
“Open your eyes,” our elder instructs us a short minute later. I look around confused, as I am not sure if I have even gotten my magic yet.
As if to answer me, a plume of black smoke that has been circling around the stone slab makes its way towards me. Gasps erupt as it pools around my ankles, embracing me in a warmth that eases every part of my being. All the cells in my body explode as the smoke soaks into my skin through my pores and reunites with my very soul. My mind is racing and my heart rate is soaring to astronomical speeds as my magic and soul become reacquainted.
What is this?
All the elders’ eyes are on me, watching attentively as if waiting for something ominous to happen, but nothing does. No one has ever seen black smoke before, so they’re just as confused as I am.
The world around us grows quiet, and their attention snaps away from me and towards the sky above. The clouds have parted, and the same beam of light I saw my mother disappear into shines down over the stone slab. It’s a giant spotlight with hues of blue and pink, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
Its warmth calls me forward like a welcoming blanket until I remember who it belongs to. I push the feeling aside, knowing full well what this light means. He’s coming.
The elders bow, which cues for everyone else to do the same. I want to see him, to take him down this very second. All I have ever seen of him was during my mother’s ceremony. It wasn’t much, only his torso, as his face was clouded in light.
Too focused on trying to get a good look at him, I forget what I should be doing, finding myself being the only one still standing when he appears. His body turns to face me, and although his face is clouded once more, I can see through it this time. His irises are not a single color, but an array of iridescence, like wisps of the northern lights caught in a gaze.
My stomach drops, weighing me down and freezing me in place. His lips press together in a fine line as his jaw tightens. His dark brows meet over the bridge of his nose in what seems like a mixture of anger and confusion.
He opens his mouth to speak at the same time that my body pulses with magic. The shot of power through my body is too strong, shocking my system. His first words to me are muffled as I start to fall, greeted by the darkness in an unconscious state.
“Her! She shall be the one.”
