Pink and orange tangles in thin wisps as the sun sets above the clan walls. A crowd is gathered in the clan’s square in anticipation of the Selection Ceremony. Each month at the full moon, Storyteller travels to a different clan and weaves a tale of Eden’s past over the bonfire.
But tonight’s fire is different. Tonight, we’re climbing Sacred Mountain. I’ve never made the trek and neither have my parents. It’s been a long time since the Paladins have chosen apprentices.
The smoky scent of burning wood fills the air, and chattering gossip buzzes about as everyone debates how the Magic will select the apprentices.
Will we see the Magic? Does it really exist? Will it speak, or perhaps the Paladins will do the choosing in the end? Who will be chosen?
So many questions. But all I can worry about is the bundle tied to my waist under my dress.
And if I’ll actually use it.
Inside are my most prized possessions. The things I couldn’t leave behind if I decide to run away with Tor.
I stare at my palms, remembering Mother’s words when I first realized I was different from the other clansfolk. I was six.
“You’re special,” she said. “I’ve always believed that. You are destined to do something wonderful. When the time’s right, you’ll know what to do.”
Had she said those words only because she wanted me to feel better about the strange white strands in my hair and the desperate need to help those who are wounded? Or had there been truth to them? Here I am, years later, and I know less about who I am or what I want from my life.
Clanmaster Ruban mounts the speaking platform and waves his arms to gain everyone’s attention.
Once the crowd quiets, he says, “Take a torch and light it. Together we will follow the path up to Sacred Mountain. The gates have been opened for us to enter.”
Torches are passed out, and after I’ve lit mine, I join Father and Mother in the makeshift line. Charise hooks up with two of her friends and moves to the front of the clan’s entrance, where I know they’re gossiping nonstop about the ceremony and the match selections. My heart pangs at the thought of mine with Balder.
“You’re upset about your match, aren’t you?” Father asks, worry crinkling his brow.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say.
“The hike up the mountain will do you good,” Mother says. “Fresh air and a little excitement.”
How will she feel when she gets back to our hut, only to find I didn’t come back with them? I still don’t even know what I’m going to do. The debate has been playing in my head all day while I helped Alda, our healer, crush up the herbs and check up on our sick patients. Truth is, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to go into the Wilds. I’m a healer, not a fighter.
It’s thoughts like these that have me second-guessing everything. It also doesn’t help that beneath the buzz of chatter, I catch some clansfolk eyeing me. The young woman with the strange hair and uncanny ability to heal. Alda is our clan’s official healer, but everyone knows it’s me that people go to when they’re sick.
“Hello, Tara,” Balder says, coming to my side and yanking me from my worries.
My heart sinks. I’ve been avoiding him all day. Just the thought of us as a match makes the Wilds tempting. His torch casts a glow over his face, etching out each dip and harsh crease.
“So…we’re a match now,” he begins, but doesn’t smile. Instead, he eyes the streak of white hair I tried to hide in my braid. “A little weird, isn’t it?”
So he’s one of those who thinks my pale strands are an evil omen. Great.
“Very,” I agree. “How do you feel about it?”
“I heard you went to the clanmaster to request an appeal.”
“You heard about that, did you?” Maybe that’s what has him on edge.
“Listen,” he says in a lower voice meant for just the two of us as our clan begins its march out of our walls. “I know you’ve got eyes for Tor. Don’t think I didn’t see you two talking after the assembly.”
I glance up at him, eyes widening. Is he accusing me of being intimate with Tor to get out of our match? I could be sent to the Reformatory for that. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we could come to an agreement,” he begins, then pulls me away from my parents, glancing around to make sure no one overhears. “Patricia and I are…close, if you get my meaning. You could turn a blind eye to us. I’ll pretend you and Tor are nothing more than friends. What do you say?”
The breeze bites cold on my skin as I catch his meaning. I’d been right about him and Patricia. And now I see my two paths clearly.
One is a life where I live as a shadow to the woman my match loves, while never being cherished in return. But I’d be close to my family and within the safety of the clans of Eden.
The second is where I run away with Tor, who adores me, only to live among the wilds where tomorrow is never promised.
I clutch my bamboo torch, smooth under my sweaty palms. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
“Yeah. Okay.” He nods, not looking at me. “See you around then.”
He ducks away while I focus on taking one step in front of the other. A snarled vine of fear works its way through my stomach. Tonight, I’m going to lose either way.
Soon, we came to the stone gate, opened specifically for tonight. The ancient arch was one of the few remaining structures built by the island’s natives. The Maker restored it to indicate the base of Sacred Mountain, but the natives’ markings and designs etched into its surface still survive as if yearning to tell a forgotten story.
The sun tips the horizon, spreading out red-gold flames that lick the mountainside. Our torches flicker against the approaching night, a stream of fire coiling up the mountain like the roar of a dragon.
Storyteller begins singing the haunting song of our clansfolk that we all learn at an early age at the Academy, and soon everyone joins in. Tonight, with the failing Lillian plants, the words feel even more real than ever.
The world fell,
Cities raged,
Snowy ashes descended where we once dwelled.
From the darkness, we awoke.
To rebuild a world
Free of chains and cruelty.
Yet the Hollowing still takes flight
We must survive the gloom of night.
As sunbeams break into flames
We must arise.
For what was lost, we must reclaim.
“What was the world like before it fell?” I ask my father after the song finishes. No one talks about the past. I haven’t decided if it’s because we’ve forgotten it or if we want to.
“I don’t know much of the old world,” he replies in his usual calm voice. “But I do know there was much hate and war.”
“I wonder how much different we are from our ancestors,” I say, thinking of how Rune punched the Wilder and the madness that burned in the Wilder’s eyes. Even now, violence is all around us, ready to ignite.
“I have to believe we are,” Father says. “Otherwise, we’re going to end up making the same mistakes those before us did.”
“Maybe. But there must be other islands that survived the Hollowing. I wonder if they found new ways to survive or grow Lillian plants.”
“Perhaps, but that’s a problem for the Paladines. Though if you ask me, I believe Eden is the last of humanity.”
I bite my lip, unconvinced. If we could prove there are others, and that they lived through the Hollowing, perhaps there were ways to survive that we don’t know about. Then we wouldn’t be forced to depend on the Lillian plants, always living in fear that some storm, Wilder, or disease would destroy them.
My thoughts are interrupted as I crest the top of Sacred Mountain. Its center sinks into a rocky landscape with jagged cliffs and boulders scattered about. It lies desolate compared to the lush island below. The ancient buildings from the island’s natives remain, including the stone amphitheater, which will hold our ceremony tonight.
Just across the way, built on one of the cliffs, sits the monastery. Unlike the other clans where all the students attend the Academy, the children chosen to live in the monastery don’t join us. They’re secluded behind those white walls and beneath buildings with pointed golden peaks that glimmer like stars.
But up here, I finally get a clear view of the monastery’s silver staircases that connect each level, allowing the magicians to travel along the cliffs with ease. The buildings have rectangular windows with twisted designs and tall spikes that spear up from their roofs. It’s all so ornate and completely magical compared to our simple huts in the Cultivator Clan.
Slightly out of breath, I pause to let the others pass me and gaze back down the mountain. In one swoop, I can see all of Eden and the small outer island of the Sentry Clan in the fading light.
I could’ve stood there all night, taking in the view. The clans were built on the isle like five points of a star, with paths connecting them. In their center sits the Academy. I can make out the band of snowy white beaches that border my Cultivator Clan and the wide-open fields and pastures on the other side. Warmth spread through me as I recognize each field and barn.
Next to the Cultivator Clan spreads the forest where Tor’s Forester Clan lives. Then, around the island’s curve, the Weaver Clan is settled in the darker bogs of the lowlands. Finally, directly below Sacred Mountain in the rises of the hill country is the Keeper Clan where the Paladins’ temple is built on the cliffs. Its square layers are stacked on each other, gleaming white in the same style as the monastery.
With a sense of dread, I turn and stare out at the other side of Sacred Mountain, where the jungles, dangerous and untamed, sprawl out.
The Wilds.
I rub my sweaty palms over my torch. I want to believe I’m strong enough to survive that untamed land, but deep down, I don’t know if I have the strength or the courage to face the unknown. I’ve become too good at hiding, closeting myself within a cage of my own so no one will suspect my secret. Just the thought of leaving my home—leaving it all—sends a stab into my stomach.
The choices lay before me.
And I don’t want either of them.