What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(5)
“Worship of the Old Gods is against the law. If they catch you…” I trailed off when her knowing gaze held mine without fear.
“We know the consequences of discovery, and still we choose to worship. Some faiths are greater than life,” she said, sliding her hand against mine until she could grasp me more firmly. She pulled gently, tugging me away from the tree—my safe haven—and drawing me toward the circle at the center of the clearing.
“At least leave Mistfell. The guards aren’t far from here,” I said, grimacing at the smile she gave in return.
“And yet here you are, risking punishment by being out this time of night. I think you understand better than most why we must take the chance. There is beauty in knowing who you are, and in embracing that in spite of the potential consequences. We come here to be closer to the Gods, to feel the energy coming from the Veil itself,” she told me, nodding her head toward the boundary that separated Nothrek from Alfheimr. It twisted, dancing through the air as we watched through the gaps in the trees, the shimmering light continually beckoning me toward it, despite the dangers.
Rumor had it that those who touched the magic of the Veil itself relinquished their life to it, fed the power that kept it strong. It was forbidden, tampering with the single entity that kept us safe from the Fae of Alfheimr, considered the worst of all our trespasses against humanity. But in the interest of preserving the Veil and feeding the energy that sustained it, the High Priest chose one person to give to it every year, one person to sacrifice at the border of the Veil, spilling their blood upon the soil on the last day of the fall harvest in thanks for another year of safety.
Just as they had done to my father.
“This is wrong,” I said, pausing at the circle of sticks they’d laid upon the ground. I couldn’t seem to convince myself to walk away, but stepping into the inner circle where they worshiped felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal of everything I’d had beaten into me, of the virtues that were supposed to matter to me but had never appealed.
It wouldn’t just be the act of a curious girl observing something she’d stumbled upon. I knew if I stepped over that line, I would be an active participant in a ritual I didn’t understand. “You should not judge something that you’ve never experienced,” the woman said, stepping over the boundary while she watched me. She still entwined her fingers with mine, our clasped hands hovering over the sticks while she waited. “And no matter what you believe now, there is no harm in experiencing a faith other than your own. You can explore other beliefs without converting. If you still think of us as heathens by morning, tell the Mist Guard what you’ve seen and absolve yourself from sin.”
Sucking in a deep lungful of air, I lifted my foot and stepped into the circle, unable to ignore the pull any longer. Like diving underwater, everything from outside the clearing seemed to fade away. She grabbed a candle off the ground, lighting it with hers and handing it to me as the dozen people still waiting within the circle made room for me to join them. “Who was he?” I asked, glancing down at the skull at the center.
“Jonab,” she said, regarding the skull on the ground. “During his lifetime, he was the God of Changing Seasons. Killed during the First Fae War between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, when Mab fought against her brother Rheaghan.”
“How did you come to have his skull?” I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around how long ago the First Fae War must have occurred.
“The same way we have these traditions. Passed down quietly through generations and protected,” she said, finally turning her back on me and beginning to walk forward. With only a step or two between each of us, the circle of human figures walked around the skull, just inside the stick-drawn barrier. The others followed, sweeping me up onto the path around the skull that mimicked the circle drawn by sticks.
I swallowed, raising and lowering the candle in my hands as the others did, copying the motions that I had no clue the purpose of but couldn’t help but mimic. If I was going to earn an eternity of suffering for participating in a forbidden ritual, I might as well commit. I knew I didn’t agree with the beliefs of the New Gods, and found something lacking in their promises for me.
Minutes passed, fading into hazy hours of walking in that circle. My legs tired long before we stopped, the soft chants falling from my lips in unison with theirs as I fell into a dreamlike state. With only the changing of the night sky above to demonstrate just how much time had passed, the words felt written on my soul, like they’d become a part of me in a way I didn’t understand.
From death to birth.
From Winter to Spring.
Life renews in time,
from ashes and dust.
When the footfalls eventually stopped, the woman in front of me turned back, bending down and pulling a stone from the pocket of her robe. She placed it on the ground as the others followed suit, forming another circle. Setting her candle atop the stone, she reached into her other pocket and handed me a stone to do the same.
“If a candle falls in the night, it is a warning that the person will not survive the winter,” she said, making me pause and take care to center my candle on the stone perfectly. I didn’t know that I believed in fortune or prophecy or the Old Gods, but I would do everything I could not to tempt fate.
She chuckled under her breath, watching me fuss over my candle as I stood straight and followed the group when they stepped over the sticks forming the outer circle. They gathered at the edge of the clearing, sitting on the ground with smiles on their faces.