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The boat rocks as it hits the island's shore and Asher Sorrengail has to brace against the railing to stop himself from stumbling. Unlike his wife or his two older children he has never had the best balance but then again he is no rider nor will he ever be.
“Are we there Daddy?”, a quiet, high-pitched voice asks, ripping him from his thoughts.
When he looks down he finds his youngest daughter staring up at him, her big blue eyes filled with unconditional love and trust. Asher swallows. Please , he thinks as he kneels down to Violet's level, please Loial please don't have her lose this gaze when we're done here .
Violet smiles in innocent delight when Asher strokes back a strand of her brown hair, tucking it behind her ear. She's barely three years old and yet Asher can see the intelligence shining through her eyes.
She'd be a fine scribe , he thinks. But he knows she won't be. She's a Sorrengail and Sorrengails are always riders. Even Violet will be despite how fragile is. There is no doubt in Asher’s mind that she will rule the skies one day. Or die trying. So he has to prepare her in every way possible. Has to give her a chance.
“Yes, darling”, Asher finally answers. ”We've arrived. Any idea where we are?”
Violet shakes her little head and Asher can't stop himself from smiling. We've done good Lilith , he thinks. She is so cute .
“The isle of Dunne. Do you know who Dunne is?”
She looks at him, frowning. Her little face puckered in concentration. “The goddess of war?”, she asks uncertainly.
Asher smiles despite feeling his heart sink. And she is so intelligent , he thinks. Too intelligent for her own good.
He brushes back another strand of her hair. “Yes. Very good, darling.”
Violet grins at him and Asher gets up before she can see the sadness in his eyes . A mind of scribe and the heart of a rider. He may be one of the only people on the Continent to still believe the old stories. To still even know about them. Markham made sure they would disappear from the public mind. Just like he made sure so many things would disappear, would be banished into the world of story books and childrens rhymes. But Asher remembers. His father had always made sure the Daxton family knew about the real history. “Truth is always better than security”, he'd told Asher more than once. So when he'd realized there was a good chance Violet, his little girl, might very well be the person the stories talked about he'd known he had to do something. Because if the stories were true then gods help her. Or more specifically goddess help her.
Taking a breath, Asher stretches out his hand towards Violet. “Ready for an adventure, darling?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound light and joking.
Violet grins and nods enthusiastically as she takes his hand. “Yes, Daddy, I love adventures.” And together they make their way to the boat’s plank.
Asher is not surprised when he finds the priestesses waiting for them on the shore. Their silver hair gleaming in the sun. Their hazel eyes staring at him mercilessly. And suddenly, his whole being is overcome by an inexplicable, insurmountable need to run. To pick up his daughter, turn around and return to the Continent. To Lilith and the children. Or better yet to simply run away. Pretend this never happened. Pretend the stories don't exist.
“Daddy?” Violet's voice sounds unsure, confused but not at all afraid when it reaches his ears.
The heart of rider, Asher thinks. And the mind of a scribe.
He takes a breath, squeezing her hand and smiles down at her. “It's alright, Violet. These women are here to help us.”
Violet glances at them and then at him. “Help us with what?”
Making sure you survive , Asher thinks but of course he doesn't say that. Instead he answers: “With our adventure.” Which is close enough to the truth. “Shall we continue?”
Violet nods and they walk down the plank.
The sand is soft beneath Asher's feet when they reach the beach, a stark contrast to the raspy voice that fills his ears as one of the women begins to talk.
“Asher Sorrengail born Daxton”, she says. “So you've come.”
“You sound surprised”, Asher answers.
“I am”, the woman says unapologetically. “I wasn't sure you would.”
Neither had Asher been if he's being honest with himself. After all, what he's about to do is extremely frowned upon in the Continent.It is forbidden. And for good reason. Dedicating one's child is a dangerous venture. Many die during the ceremony, many more feel the wrath of the gods years later. The risks are great but still….
“I have no choice”, Asher answers.
The woman looks at him for a moment longer then let's her gaze fall to Violet. “Is that her?”
“Yes”, Asher says.
“She just turned three?”
“Yes” he answers again.
“She's small for her age”, the woman observes.
“Yes”, Asher says a third time. There is no point in arguing her. “She's been born a little sickly. Her mother had a fever while she was pregnant with her.”
The priestess raises her eyebrows, looking back up at him. “And you think Dunne will take her despite that?”
“She's a Sorrengail. A future rider. There is no doubt Dunne will take her”, Asher argues.
“You sound very certain about her path”, the priestess says.
“I am”, Asher answers without any hesitation.
“Despite you wearing the robes of a scribe?” she asks.
Asher shrugs. “I'm not foolish enough to overestimate my influence on my children and think that any of them will end up in the Archives.” Nor would I want them to , he adds quietly. Not as long as Markham is down there.
The priestess finally nods. “Fine then. Let us see if your predictions are correct. Dunne herself will decide whether she takes this child or not”, she says, turning around and walking up the shore without another word.
Asher exhales in relief. First step done, my dear Lilith, he thinks even though his wife is hundreds of miles away. And even though she did not approve of his plan. Just like his mother didn't. Niara will stop talking to him once he returns, there is no doubt in Asher's mind about that. But she doesn't understand, he thinks. I have to do this .
“Come on”, Asher finally says, tugging at his daughter's hand. “Let's continue with the adventure.”
The temple of Dunne is huge and… bare. That is to be expected, Asher supposes. A goddess of war would not dwell on petty things like decorations. But it still surprises him to find a temple so devoid of anything safe for the statue of the goddess in the middle.
“Here we are”, the priestess, who's name is Fayra as Asher has come to finde out, says. Much like the temple her voice is bare, devoid of emotion.
She reminds him a bit of Lilith in that sense when she's deep in battle strategy.
“This is the temple of Dunne where the goddess will make her decision”, Fayra continues. “If you are still willing to dedicate her.”
She looks at him expectantly, the sunlight reflecting on her silver hair. Asher takes a breath. Forgive me, darling , he thinks and then nods. “Yes, that's what we came here for.”
Fayra nods satisfied. “Bring her forth then. She will stand alone in front of the statue. Just like she will stand alone in battles yet to come.”
Her words send a shiver down Asher’s spine. He does not, cannot imagine his little girl, his fragile youngest who sprains a bone every other day in battle. And yet he knows there is no other way. They are out there somewhere. The dark wielders. The Venin. Just biding their time. Waiting to get strong enough again and attack. And when they do it might be, no it will be his little girl standing at the front lines. The mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider, Asher thinks.
He has studied the texts. Extensively. And he is certain, absolutely certain that his little Violet will right up front, tipping the scales.
“Daddy?” Violet asks, looking up at him with big blue eyes. “What is going on? What's the silver lady talking about?”
Asher swallows as he kneels down to her. “I promised you an adventure, didn't I, darling?”
Violet nods, a strand of hair falling into her face. Asher brushes it back.
“But there's a part of the adventure that you need to do alone. Like a big girl.”
“Big like Mira?” Violet asks.
Asher smiles and hopes it looks only half as watery on his face as it feels. “Maybe even bigger than her”, he says and Violet’s eyes widen. “Can you be that big of a girl for me?”
She looks at him, her head tilted in thought. “I - I think so”, she finally decides.
Asher nods and smiles. “That's good, darling. That's really good. Now for your adventure alone you need to step up to the statue, okay? And you need to stand there. Really still. It might take awhile but it's important you don't move until I tell you to, okay?”
Violet nods. “Okay. I can do that.”
He doesn't tell her it may hurt. He doesn't tell her it may kill her. No point in scaring her , he tells himself. Not when there's no turning back either way.
“I'm so proud of you”, Asher whispers to her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You're such a smart, big girl.”
And then he let's go of her.
Violet doesn't hesitate a second. With certain little steps she walks up to the statue, placing herself in front of it.
Asher nods at Fayra and the priestess holds up her arms. “My lady Dunne”, she declares, her loud voice booming through the temple. “Goddess of war. I am here as your high priestess, bringing you this child. Violet Sorrengail is ready for your service. Come down and pass your judgement upon her.”
For a moment nothing happens. Nothing but stillness and silence. And then Violet screams. Screams and screams. Asher’s ears are consumed by her heart wrenching cries of agony as the temple fills with silvery white light.
He cannot see her. But he can still feel her. Asher takes a step forward.
“Do not interfere”, Fayra warns. “Not while the goddess passes her judgement upon her. You will get her killed.”
Asher swallows but he manages to still his feet. Forgive me, Loial , he thinks. Forgive me, darling .
But still Violet's cries of agony continue for what feels like an eternatiy. Until suddenly the temple is silent again and the glazing silvery light disappears.
Asher can't help himself. He runs. Towards his little girl. His everything. His youngest. She's laying right where he left her, right in front of the statue.
“Darling”, he says. But she doesn't respond. “Violet!”
“She's unconscious”, Fayra observes. “Not dead. The goddesses judgment of her was positive.”
And it is only then that Asher notices her shallow little breaths and her hair, once fully brown now turning to silver at its ends.
“She was touched by Dunne. Though she isn't fully dedicated”, Fayra says.
Asher couldn't care less as he holds his little baby. Forgive me, Loial, he screams in his mind as the tears run down his face. Forgive me for I have sinned . But still he has to know. He should know as a scribe trying to turn the tides in this future war. And as a father trying to save his daughter.
“What down that mean?” he manages to ask.
“She is a servant of Dunne now. Whether she will be her priestess remains to be seems. Her path is yet to be determined”, Fayra says.
“But she is under her protection?”
The look the priestess gives him is icy. “Yes” she says. “And at her mercy. Such is the law of dedication.”