Milo’s last words still echoed in the arena.
I will lead with my heart.
His words filled the air for a moment.
Then a priest pushed forward, golden robes shifting with him. “You have not been chosen by Banthys. We haven’t done the ritual.”
“Then do the ritual,” Milo said, his voice steady.
“Very well. On your knees.”
Milo lowered to his knees in front of the priest.
“The ritual is simple,” the priest said. “To test your loyalty to Banthys, we will swing a sword at your neck. If you live, Banthys has chosen you. If you die, you were never our High Priest.”
Milo nodded. “I understand.” He swallowed. “Banthys will choose me.”
More priests began to form a circle around us. Sahora’s hand adjusted on the sword.
The priest pulled a sword from its sheath.
He swung for Milo’s head.
I lunged forward.
Sahora moved with me,
Orange light swallowed my vision.
I stopped cold.
I heard knees hitting stone before I saw the priests kneeling to Milo.
“You have been chosen by Banthys,” the priest in golden robes said, bowing low to my brother.
My vision cleared slowly, and I blinked to make the image make sense.
Milo stood.
Orange light surrounded him.
Coming from him.
My father had never glowed.
The thought struck me before I could stop it.
All those years of obedience. All that blood.
And Banthys had never answered him like this.
I walked closer to Milo.
He looked at me like he could see me to my core, like he could see something in me he hadn’t seen before.
“I see you whole now, my brother. You can’t stay to help me.” Sadness sat in Milo’s eyes. “You have to bring Kathera back. You can use the Life shard. But bring it back.”
“I will,” I told him.
Milo stepped forward. “We will be giving the Life shard to Oliver.”
Gasps rippled through the arena.
“I understand the hesitation.” He lifted his chin. “Banthys has shown me the truth. We are to aid in bringing Kathera back.”
More people gasped.
“By Banthys,” someone murmured.
The priest who swung the sword stood. “If that is what Banthys demands.”
He walked to a small alcove. When he returned, he held the shard in an ornate casing.
He passed it to Milo. It glowed bright orange in response.
Milo paused, holding the shard in his hands. Then, slowly, he turned back to me and held it out.
My breath got heavy.
My hands felt too big.
My head felt too light.
My eyes blurred.
I stepped forward and closed my hands around the shard.
It thrummed. A rhythm beating against my palms.
“You may stay as long as you would like,” Milo said. “You can have your old rooms back. You don’t need to stay in the one you’ve been given.”
I blinked slowly. “Thank you.”
“You will always be welcome in Gyra,” Milo said as he walked away, dismissing everyone quickly.
The arena emptied out slowly.
As I held the shard, something inside me bloomed.
Sahora came up behind me. “You’re glowing green.”
Green, not Banthys’s orange. The shard’s.
I felt her words vibrate through me. “This shard is a lot to carry.”
She nodded. “Yeah. But you can carry it.”
I lifted the chain from the casing and slipped it over my head, feeling its thud against my chest.
“Does the Blood shard make you feel like this?” I asked her.
“If you mean it feels like something is breathing with you,” she said, “like a heartbeat—then yes.”
“It’s the strangest feeling,” I told her.
“You get used to it,” she replied.