The Call to Gathering chimes ring with the first break of dawn, ripping me from sleep haunted by Wilders, fires, and a knife tip pointed at my chest. I groan into my mat, squinting against the sunbeams fingering through the curtains. After everything that happened last night, my body screams to go back to sleep so I don’t have to face the reality of what I experienced last night. But when the chimes ring, everyone on the Isle of Eden must report to the Gathering Hall immediately.
I sit up and blink away sleep, only for worry to curl through my chest and tighten into a knot. In all my twenty-one years, the chimes have only rung twice, and both times they only brought evil.
Will it be about the Wilders? Did they steal all the Lillian crops? Do they know that I snuck out? Or how close I came to dying?
After changing into a forest green dress and braiding my brown hair, making sure the streak of white is as hidden as possible, I hurry into our hut’s main room just as Mother sweeps through the door, holding a bucket of water. Her long brown hair is braided and coiled around the crown of her head. She’s already changed into her best dress. It’s white, a sharp contrast to her sun-kissed complexion.
“Hurry,” she says. “Wash your face and hands. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve broken fast.”
“What do you think it’s about?” Charise asks, peeking out of her bedroom door, excitement radiating from her green eyes. “Maybe the Paladins will come.”
She was too young to remember the last Gathering, but I’m guessing that after today, she won’t look at these meetings with the same excitement.
“Whatever it’s about,” I say darkly. “I doubt it will be good.”
“At least Tor will be there,” Charise says, waggling her eyebrows at me.
Tor. What was up with him last night? He definitely was acting strange. Did he really know that Wilder? Or had that been my imagination?
“Tor?” Mother looks up from peeling the laper fruit. “You should know better, Tara, than to get your hopes up. Especially since he’s from the Forrester Clan. They’re going to want to keep you here with the Lillian fields.”
That knot tightens in my stomach as Tor’s words tumble back to me. What if I said I found a way for us to be together?
What is he planning? What does he know that I don’t?
Speculation won’t help me. I need to talk to him, and since he’ll be at the Gathering Hall too, it will be the perfect opportunity. Shoving those worries aside for later, I help Mother, cutting thick slices of bread, fresh fruit, and cold tea for each of us, and set them on the table. Father stumbles inside, balancing a pile of wood. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair combed back, making his jaw look sharper and his brown eyes larger.
“Good morning, girls,” he says, kissing my mother and nodding to Charise and me.
He sets the logs in a neat pile next to the hearth but doesn’t make a fire. It’s hardly worth it since we’ll need to set off to the Gathering Hall. Silence fills our small hut as we settle down to eat a quick meal. It’s like we’re underwater, holding our breath.
I wait for Father to say something, but he takes a slow sip of tea. His hand shakes as he holds the mug to his lips. I rub the insides of my palms, praying to the Magic he didn’t discover I snuck out last night.
“Everything okay, Father?” Charise asks.
“Everything is going to be fine,” he says. “Perhaps the Paladins are calling the meeting to tell us that they’ve found a way to heal the Lillian plants.”
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” Mother mutters.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” Charise presses, leaning forward. “You know what this meeting is about, don’t you?”
My throat constricts. I tuck my hands into my lap, squeezing my fingers so tight they hurt. This is the moment. This is when he’ll tell me I’m to be taken to the Reformatory for breaking curfew and leaving the clan walls after the gates have closed.
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Father sighs. “Girls, make sure you keep to yourselves when we get to the Gathering Hall. Don’t cause any trouble.”
“They won’t take her, will they?” Mother’s face pales. “She hasn’t shown any signs.”
Cold fear chases up my spine. She’s talking about me. It’s been a long time since they openly spoke about my abilities. I almost thought they’d forgotten.
“You don’t have to worry,” I say. “I’m better now. It’s hardly noticeable.”
“Like I said.” He rises to his feet, pushing back his chair. “Don’t stand out in any way. Panic will only lead suspicion to our doors.”
***
After breakfast, I find my best friend, Lala, and together we make the very familiar hike along the sand path to the hall. Every child on the island attends the Academy, which is beside the Gathering Hall, so I can practically make the trek in my sleep. Jungle lines the route, and usually I’d be on the lookout for toucans and monkeys, but today my mind whirls with my parents’ worries and the events of last night.
“I heard one of the sentries at the gate say Wilders tried to take the Lillian plants last night,” Lala whispers to me. I widen my eyes, pretending I’m shocked over this piece of gossip. “If it weren’t for those brave Sentries, all the plants would’ve been lost. Can you imagine facing one of the Wilders? I’ve heard that they have sharp teeth and eat humans.”
I shudder, remembering the Wilder I faced last night, my knife poised over my chest. “That sounds awful.”
“And that any who go near them get the sickness. Do you think any of our Sentries got sick?”
“Let’s hope not,” I say, but my mind sends me flashes of the Wilder’s grip on my arm, his reeking breath, the blood.
Maybe this is the Magic punishing me for sneaking out.
The outlines of ivy-covered stone walls and an arched gate emerge into view. We join the line forming at the gate’s entrance, where we each touch the pedestal. When my turn comes, I hesitate, unconsciously touching my fingers, remembering Lala’s warning. What if that Wilder passed his sickness to me?
“You need to touch the emblem before you enter,” the Sentry manning the pedestal reminds me. “The Magic will determine your entrance.”
While I was in the Academy, a girl placed her hand on the Lillian Tree emblem. The tree burned red, and the bell inside the pedestal rang, signaling her as Sickly. Immediately, four Sentries emerged and dragged her away. We never saw her again.
I shove down my worries and place my palm on the pedestal. The stone bites cold on my sweaty hand. I stare at it, expecting the emblem to turn red. Waiting for the bell to clang.
Praying it doesn’t.
A flash of green. The emblem letting me know I’m safe.
“The Magic has decided,” the Sentry says. “Move along and enter the hall.”
I study my palm. I must have pressed hard against the pedestal because an outline of the Lillian Tree lingers on my skin. A breath of relief escapes me. Everything is going to be fine. I’m worrying too much.
“You okay?” Lala asks as we start across the courtyard.
“This whole Wilder thing has rattled me,” I admit.
“It's so scary,” she agrees.
She continues talking, telling me about how she and Jaton went to the Paladins to request a match, when my eye catches a figure cloaked in black, lingering in the doorway of one of the buildings. The hood shadows all features.
I’m being watched.
Only the Paladins dress like that. To gain their notice is never good.
I hurry us into the massive, round Gathering Hall where we file up the stone stairs into our Cultivator Clan’s section and sit on the stone benches of the arena. I search the crowds for Tor until I spot him below in the far corner with Rune, their heads huddled as if they were having an important conversation. I tug at the edges of my sleeves, wondering if they were talking about last night.
Tor’s green tunic of the Forester Clan is stretched tight over his lean, muscular frame. His light brown hair is neatly combed, but even still, some pieces fall over his eyes. It had been those eyes, intense and determined, that drew me to him when we attended the Academy. Or maybe it was the way he talked to me. Just hearing him call my name even now brings shivers of delight through me.
And then there’s Rune. Dark, wild hair with broad shoulders, and those strange marks on his powerful arms. Lethal. Deadly. The island rumors whisper that no one could hold ground against him at the Sentry tournament last month. He had the strength of an ox and the quickness of the mythological tiger.
“Maybe they’re going to announce this year’s matches,” Lala whispers eagerly.
“I hope not.” My stomach twists.
“Why not? Then you’ll finally find out if you and Tor will be able to get married.”
“I mean, that would be great, but what if we aren’t matched?”
At the last gathering ten years ago, they announced the Lillian plants were dying. I’d been ten then. It was at that moment, I understood how close we all were to death’s grip.
I focus on the mural of the Lillian Tree engraved on the wall, sprawling out its thin silver branches into perfect curls at each end. Fifteen plump fruits hang from the tree.
Perfectly round. Perfectly hung.
That mural usually soothes me, but not today. My pulse races with hot fury. Angry at the Lillian Tree. Angry at the Magic that’s supposed to keep us safe.
Before I can make eye contact with Tor, Charise hurries to settle beside me just as the clanmasters move onto the stage in the center of the arena, their long purple robes dragging behind them. The silver edging and the outline of the Lillian Tree on their robes flash in the golden light, seeping in from the tall windows that circle the top row of the hall.
The Keeper clanmaster, Stefan, steps onto the speaking platform while the leaders sit in straight-backed wooden chairs that ring it.
“Greetings, Clansfolk of Eden,” Stefan says, his deep voice booming through the hall. He runs his hand up and down his long, white beard. “As we all know, the Hollowing is ever desperate to reach our shores and empty us of our souls. It is why the Lillian plants are our life and the hope of the Maker. But last night, we learned grievous news. The Lillian crops were plundered by the Wilders, and a fourth was burned. Without those leaves, when the next Hollowing cloud arrives, we will have few resources to heal those who are not resistant.”
Gasps and murmuring fill the arena as fear creeps through the crowd.
“We have no answers,” Stefan continues. “Therefore, we must adapt and prepare. Our projections tell us by the end of the year, we could lose an eighth of our population.”
The room falls deathly silent. My parents tense, but they don’t look surprised. They knew all of this before we came, I realize. Is that why they were up before dawn? Counting the remaining Lillian plants?
Charise clamps her hands over her mouth, and her shoulders sag. I wrap my arm around her, wanting to say everything is going to be alright. But that would be a lie because the last time the Hollowing Cloud arrived, she got sick. It was the Lillian plants that healed her. Fear races through my veins.
Harsh whispers and panic fill the hall, oozing through the arena like a sickness of its own.
“Do not worry,” Stefan yells to get everyone’s attention. His voice cracks from the strain. Once the crowd quiets, he continues, “Our great Paladins have a solution. The next selection of matches will be announced today. These matches were made to ensure that the couple will produce quality offspring that can survive the onslaught of the Hollowing.”
This stirs another round of whispers and gasps. My heart drops like I just leapt from the tall cliffs on the north shore. I’m going to find out who my match is.
Right now.