CHAPTER 8: Decimated

MY HEART lurched.

Oh gods.

Oh my—

Romero had been right there in front of me and, then—

I felt the splatters of him dripping down my face.

I wanted to throw up.

Lean over, right there, and vomit all over my own feet.

I—I'd killed someone?

I'd—

I couldn't move.

My body froze in place.

Brilliant light, loosed from the star which I'd dropped to the floor, crackled and spun overhead in a tornado. The wind kicked up my hair and the ocean waves around the room, tossing everything into pounding chaos—

Would the waves break the glass and drown us both?

The force of the pummeling and the hissing gale roared in my ears—

The glass walls creaked—

"Priscilla!" Marcus screamed.

And I saw the desperation on his face.

The panic.

That matched the jumping in my chest.

And we both lunged for the door, falling out into the brightly-lit hallway in a breathless tangle of limbs.

"HELP!" I screamed, my voice scraping up my hoarse throat, "PLEASE! Someone please help!"

Marcus sprinted down the hall to the nearest door, pounding on it, "Emergency! Someone open up!"

And, at that moment, an older Icon calmly rounded the lit corner of the hall, his hands folded in front of his pressed shirt.

But they dropped.

And he ran.

When he saw the lightening hiss and pop through the doorway to the current room.

I watched horror fill his face.

And I sunk to the floor of the hall, cradling my knees. I felt the wall bite into my spine with the movement.

Hard.

Unyielding.

Really the only thing keeping me upright and steady.

I'd really fucked this up. I'd tried to do what they wanted me to do, and I'd fucking killed someone.

The coppery stench of blood permeated my nostrils like the reminder I didn't need.

My throat tightened, and it stayed that way, only worsening, when I faced the Temple Matriarch an hour later...

***

"It was an accident! I would never," I pleaded, my voice nearly pitching into hysteria as we stood on the temple steps—the Temple Matriarch's unpleased lips drawing into a puckered splinter four stairs higher than me so she could exaggerate both her height (or lack thereof) and her status.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Accident or no, you killed one of Poseidon's most well-respected Icons," her restricted, nasally tone matched her narrowed eyes and waving finger, "I will not have you endanger the lives of anyone else who is promised shelter here. You will be cuffed with magic restrictions and put on temple tithe duty until Poseidon decides how he wants to handle this."

I sank.

Into myself.

Into the marble floor.

Even though I was standing.

Her words deflated everything in me because there was no lower position than tithe duty. As a Demure, it'd been the majority of my day. Icons weren't supposed to engage in such menial tasks...and, if they did, they were the talk of the entire place.

Social suicide.

...As though I wasn't already on that level.

"No, wait, please," I stammered, holding up my hands in flurrying protest as a temple guard moved towards me with a set of gold cuffs all Icons feared. "I think there's been a mistake."

The words nearly hurt coming off my tongue—like a sharp sword being dragged across the tender tissue there.

Like the pointed truth I'd been trying to swallow and conceal since the day my parents walked me into the shadow of the temple as a child...

"I—" My throat constricted.

Could I get the words out after all this?

The Matriarch's eyebrows tilted dangerously upward as she waited.

"I'm not supposed to be here," I blurted quickly—before I could decide otherwise—"The Mediator chose wrong. I shouldn't' be chosen."

"Preposterous!" the woman waved me off with a flick of her disinterested wrist and gestured the guard with the cuffs forward, "The Mediator is never wrong—"

"Just listen to me—" I shouted.

Louder than I'd meant.

Ringing high over the stairs.

But it worked.

Everyone froze.

—Even the guard with the outstretched gold, cuffs.

They all stared at me, expectantly.

I took a minute to calm my jittering heartbeat and took a slow breath.

"A sage visited our home when I was a child," I started shakily, my eyes wavering over the Matriarch's expression, trying to gauge how long she was going to let me speak. "My mother abided by the old traditions; she fed the woman and let her stay the night with us. Before the sage went to leave, she grabbed me by both shoulders, slipped a pendent necklace over my head and told me to never go to the temple for, if I did, disaster would rain down on our world. It was a warning." I swallowed, licking my lips briefly to continue, "Mama, of course, was a god-fearing woman and enrolled me, despite all my protests, when I was the correct age, but I always worried..."

I fished below the bosom-line of my dress, pulling out the pendant I wore on the thin, gold chain and holding it up to the group as though it was proof.

But, when I looked up, I realized whatever understanding I'd hoped would be in their expression was nowhere in sight.

The Matriarch's eyes were two, hardened coal pieces. Her lips pursed in extreme disapproval, "We are not of the Old Ways. We do not validate their magic or lifestyle. You are part of Poseidon's guild now. The Mediator is never wrong. You were chosen and the god will decide your fate."

And she turned.

On her heel.

Away like I was as worthless as the cuffs they brought towards me would tell everyone else.

The metal was freezing on my wrists as they clamped shut.

The guard twisted a key in the cuffs to lock them.

And it was done.

As long as they were on my hands, I couldn't perform any type of magic.

...Some people even said they numbed your feelings...

But I felt it all.

The stinging burn of betrayal at the back of my throat.

I wanted to cry.

And, yet, I wanted to punch too.

To fight back.

To tell them how wrong they all were.

...But they'd never believe me.

"Take the necklace," the Matriarch ordered one of the guards, who promptly yanked it from my neck, breaking the fine chain even as I grabbed for it, "Put her with the Demure. She has a lesson to learn—"

And I don't know what welled up within me.

Disdain?

Pure spite?

But I spat.

At the Temple Matriarch's feet, even though she didn't even turn at the sound.

"It was an accident," I hissed through clenched teeth, "And I told you the truth. Let me go home, or Armagedón might rain down on all of us."

"Poseidon will decide," she said coldly over her shoulder.

With finality.

And she stepped away.

And I was left.

Trapped again between two guards.

Waiting on a god's word.