I can hear them outside.
Shouting.
Summoning.
Beyond the teak doors, the crowd calls to the five of us in a unified chant of “Eden! Eden!”
I breathe in the corridor’s stale air as I wait with Tor, Rune, Amala, and Carter for the Paladins to finish introducing us to the Clansfolk. In moments, the doors will swing open and there won’t be any turning back. This is our moment to make a difference and serve our isle.
Right?
I’ve wanted to be accepted my whole life. But my insides are chilled, sinking to the pit of my stomach. The truth is, I’m just a lowly gardener. In a few moments, I’ll be standing in front of all the Clansfolk in broad daylight. Can I really help these people?
I contemplate running back down the stairs, but they’re blocked by Rune pacing the hallway like a caged cat. His sandaled feet will probably leave an indent on the marble floor if we wait much longer. Even his hair, once combed smooth, now hangs in wild, sweaty strands. Still, I bet his looks will only make the crowd love him all the more. He appears strong and dangerous, exactly the vision of who should lead the Sentries.
My midnight blue dress, made of the smooth silk reserved only for the Paladins, clings tight to my skin, with slits on either side running all the way to my thighs. The handmaidens braided my hair and twisted it into a crown on top of my head with tendrils cascading down my back. Strings of gems hang from the sleeve of my dress, attaching at the wrist.
When they stood me in front of a massive mirror, I blinked in shock. I didn’t recognize myself. The dress and braided crown of hair created a distinctive look. I became exactly what a Paladin should look like.
Mysterious, lofty.
Stunning.
My stomach rolls at the memory. It’s all a façade. There’s nothing mysterious about me.
I adjust my tight dress and turn to search Tor’s eyes, needing his reassurance that this is the right choice, but he won’t return my gaze. He stands behind the four of us, eyes unwaveringly focused on the doors, hands clasped behind him.
That’s Tor. Focused. It’s what I love about him.
And hate.
Ever since we left that mountain top, he’s felt distant and out of my reach. Sure, once we became Apprentices, we aren’t supposed to love anyone else except Eden, but he does really feel that way?
The chants intensify, matching the beat of my pulse.
“Just stop the pacing, Rune,” Amala says, huffing. She touches her coiffed hair as if his stomping will yank the strands from her updo. “You’re making me nervous.”
The scowl she shoots Rune would’ve made me quiver. But not Rune. He grins like she’s just set forth a new game. “Ah, this annoys you, does it, Amala? Maybe now you’ll agree to a spar again, uninterrupted.”
Amala looks regal, like the goddesses in old tales, in her white dress, fitted perfectly to her tall figure. At least she’ll impress the crowd with her elegance.
Amala’s face grows darker as if she’s boiling inside. She raises her thin eyebrows, moving closer to Rune. “No one would be pleased if I killed you. No one, that is, except me.”
Fantastic. They’re going to ruin everything, the two of them. The doors will open, and the entire population of Eden will see us for the first time—fighting. I move to stand between them.
“This isn’t the time,” I say through gritted teeth. “Enough. Both of you. We need to stand together as a unified front for the people.”
Rune lifts his brows. “Well, the Healer Apprentice has some spark under that blue dress. I’m impressed.”
I lift my chin and shoot him a glare.
“Leave her alone,” Tor commands, abruptly coming out of his trance.
“Don’t you use that commander’s voice on me,” Rune snaps. “I’ll just find a way around it.”
“What do you mean commander voice? I ask, frowning.
The blast of trumpets cut through the air and the doors swing open.
Light rushes inside, hungry to fill every crack in our dark hall. Momentarily blinded, I cover my face with the back of my hand and catch sight of Rune waltzing onto the balcony, arms stretched out as if to call on the people’s cheers.
“He’s insufferable,” I mutter.
Amala follows and then Carter, quiet as usual.
Tor hovers behind me, so I step out next and take my place on the balcony with the Paladins. An ocean breeze whips my dress against my ankles as I stand next to Amala. The crowd cheers below, a sea of colors. Even the Sentries’ black uniforms look sharp and crisp as they surround the outer rim. Lanterns that will be lit when the sun fades are strung around the courtyard and all the way down the main road beyond. The air smells like grilled meat and jasmine. Tonight, the Clansfolk will celebrate.
Below on my right, my clan is waving my favorite flower, the plumeria, in my honor. I spy my parents and sister, waving and looking so proud. I wave back, but dizziness and nausea threaten to send me to my knees. I lock my legs and grit my teeth, determined not to make a scene.
Tor comes out last, and as he does, his clan bursts into a deafening roar. He punches one arm into the air and the crowd mimics his action. Afterward, he finds his place by my side. Proctor raises his hand, and in one swoop, silence sweeps through the Temple courtyard.
“Today marks a momentous occasion in the history of Eden,” Proctor calls out. “These Apprentices have been chosen to lead you and guide you into your future. Now, it’s time to remember the purpose of who we are and why we are.”
In the center of the courtyard, the ground rumbles around the golden Lillian Tree statue. Slowly, a circular platform rises, lifting the statue into the air. The Clansfolk around it cry out, leaping backward. I gape in awe. Just yesterday, I rode by that statue, never realizing it could move. How is that even possible? I glance at Archmage, the Head Magician. Sure enough, his staff is raised, pointing at the statue.
Magic.
The platform elevates the statue to the height of two people and stops. The musicians below begin to play again, a haunting pan-lute cutting through the violins. The foliage of the Lillian Tree peels back as if the tree were splitting open.
Archmage waves his staff in a circular motion, and a vision appears from the very air above the statue. The crowd gasps again as it flickers before us. I grab hold of the stone railing in front of me, trying to grasp what I’m seeing.
A vision:
A volcano erupts, spewing fire.
People screaming, hands groping the darkness.
Ash covers the earth.
Then a thin green stalk rises through the ashes, growing larger and larger until it spreads, encompassing fields, forests, beaches, and the sea.
Eden.
Yes, that’s what it is. The vision represents the history of our world.
In a blaze, fire erupts from the center and the vision disappears. The tree folds back together, steam curling over its surface, and the statue lowers back to the ground. The Clansfolk continue to gape at the statue, as if still caught in Archmage’s spell. I rub my palm with my thumb, feeling the magic within it scuttling over my skin.
“Death swept the world, destroying and killing every human in its path just as a volcano destroys everything in its path,” Proctor says, breaking the silence. “Every human being died except those resistant to the Hollowing. It was then, amidst the ashes of our world, that the Maker created Eden. It was a new beginning. A place for us to live and rebuild the future. We are the garden rising from the ashes. We are the life among the nothingness. It is our purpose to live and eradicate pain and suffering.”
The crowd bursts into a deafening cheer.
Proctor nods to us five. My head still reels from what I just saw, and suddenly Proctor’s earlier warning about being strong and unruffled makes sense. This must have been what he had meant. Licking my lips, I step up onto the stone block in front of me just like the other four and lift my right arm into the air. Together we chorus our practiced lines.
“As Apprentices of the Paladins, our quest is to lead the clans in the way of truth. We commit to eradicate pain and suffering.”
A blast of fire erupts into the air behind the crowd. Again, the crowd gasps. At first, I think it’s merely another part of the ceremony. But then a mob starts running at the courtyard’s gate. Are about fifty men, their rags a mix-match of colors.
The Wilders.
“Lies!” one man screams from the top of the outer wall of the courtyard. “You don’t bring us truth. You bring slavery and suffering!”
The Wilders shout in approval, hefting crude swords and long spears into the air. “Lies!” they cry in unison and break into a run, weapons pointed ahead of them, shouting. The spectators plunge into chaos, diving out of their way, pushing over one another to escape the pointed swords, shouting and crying.
I grab Tor’s arm. “Did you know about this?” I ask in a sharp whisper. “Are they infected?”
“Of course not,” Tor mutters, but unlike the rest of us, his eyes don’t look shocked.
“This is madness,” Proctor growls and turns to the Head Sentry. “Kill them.”
“With pleasure,” Head Sentry says and nods to Rune. “Come and learn how to keep these Wilders in check. The rest of you, get inside where it’s safe.”
The Head Sentry and Rune sprint off while everyone else moves to the double doors of the Temple. But I can’t follow. All I can think about is whether my family is going to be alright. I lean over the railing, scanning the crowd. Where are they? Then I spot them, backed up against one of the walls of the courtyard. Trapped. I eye the ledge, preparing to crawl over it and search for them so I can bring them inside the Temple for safety.
“Mother!” I cry, swinging my leg over the side. “Father! Come this way.”
“Stop this ridiculous screaming and get yourself inside,” Healer snaps at me, wrenching me away from the railing. “And for Maker’s sake, maintain your composure!”
Below, the mob has reached the Lillian statue. They hack at its closed petals with their swords.
A whizzing sound passes by my ear. I jerk backward, heart pounding in my chest.
“What was that?” Tor asks, leaping to my side. His eyes are dark with worry.
Amala picks an arrow off the ground. “These Wilders were prepared. If this had hit you,” she tells me. “You could’ve been killed. I’m not sticking around.”
She races inside the Temple with the others.
“Tara.” Tor pulls on my arm. “We have to go!”
I push his hand away. “My family! I can’t leave them.” I search wildly for a way to get down to them. “What if they get trampled? What if they get hurt? I need to bring them up here.”
Tor’s eyes narrow on me, dark and fierce. “Do as I say!”
His words hit me like a knife. There’s power in them, demanding to be obeyed. I give one last glance at the crowd before I allow Tor to drag me inside the Temple.