Fancy followed the attendant into another wing of Divyabhawan, leaving the noise of the main hall behind one turn at a time. By the time they stopped, the chatter of families had thinned to a murmur beneath the stone, replaced by the scrape of sandals and the soft hiss of lamps farther down the corridor.
Her chamber smelled faintly of lotus, sweeter and heavier than the incense outside. Morning light entered through narrow openings near the ceiling and fell across a circular mandala painted over the floor, its lines bright against the darker stone.
A tall woman waited beside it in pale robes, a silver bindi set between sharp emerald eyes. "Fancy?" she asked, and Fancy straightened before answering.
"Yes." Fancy stepped farther into the chamber while the woman gave a small nod. "Vespera."
Fancy already knew what came next because everyone did: sit within the mandala, wear the ritual ring, and do not resist whatever came when the Pathway answered. It always sounded simple when people told stories about it afterward.
Vespera placed a red-and-black ring near the center of the mandala. "Whenever you’re ready," she said, then stepped back far enough to leave Fancy alone inside the painted circle.
Fancy gathered the edge of her saree and sat. The lotus scent hung warm in the room while she picked up the ring, and for no useful reason her mind went to Herald.
He was probably sitting somewhere with Facade right now, asking question after question until the poor man regretted agreeing to oversee his ritual. The image pulled a smile from her before she slipped the ring onto her finger.
The lotus fragrance vanished, and Herald stood in front of her before Fancy could make sense of where the chamber had gone. She barely had time to recognize him before his throat opened and blood poured between his fingers.
"Her—" Fancy lunged toward him, but darkness swallowed the space between them. When the world returned, her hands were red and Herald lay beneath them.
Fancy stumbled backward and struck something hard with her heel, only to find herself somewhere else entirely. She was kneeling with a bowl held between both palms while Herald sat against a wall, impossibly thin, his eyes fixed on nothing.
"Please, just—" she started, but the scene tore apart before the words could leave her. Herald’s body appeared hanging from the ceiling instead, rope taut above his head while his feet hung motionless.
Fancy screamed and reached for him, but the rope disappeared before her fingers touched it. Herald was suddenly running from her through a narrow stretch of darkness, except the next breath twisted it around and she was the one running from him.
Something sharp filled her hand. Herald turned, surprise crossing his face a heartbeat before the blade entered his chest, and Fancy felt bone resist beneath her grip before flesh gave way.
"No!" She released the weapon, but there was no weapon anymore. Both of her hands were around Herald’s throat, his skin darkening beneath her fingers while his hands clawed at her wrists.
Fancy ripped her hands away, gasping, only to find a rope burning across her palms with Herald hanging at the other end. "No, no, no—" She tried to let go, but her fingers refused to open.
She clawed at her own hands, digging her nails into the knuckles until pain shot through them. Her grip stayed locked around the rope while Herald swayed before her, dead for one breath, alive for the next, then dead again.
The visions accelerated until there was no time to understand one before another replaced it. A spear punched through Herald’s body, blood pooled beneath his head, flames climbed over his skin, and every time Fancy reached for him her hands were already stained red.
He crawled away from her once, dragging himself over stone while begging her to stop. Another blink left him silent beneath her, and the next put him back on the rope, turning slowly while darkness pressed closer.
Fancy could barely draw enough air to scream anymore. Her chest burned, her fingers shook, and every attempt to look away only delivered another Herald dying in front of her.
Then everything stopped, and another Fancy stood behind Herald. The other version wore her face, her saree, even the obsidian orchid in her hair.
She was smiling.
Fancy’s stomach dropped as that smiling version raised one hand. Before she could see what came next, her eyes snapped open and the lotus scent crashed back into the chamber hard enough to make her gag.
Fancy tore the ring from her finger and sent it skittering across the floor before lurching sideways onto her hands and knees. Her stomach emptied beside the mandala, and she coughed until her throat burned while strands of hair clung across her damp face. This chapter is updated first at NovelPing.
"Fancy." Vespera’s voice came from several feet away, close enough to reach her but not close enough to touch.
Fancy recoiled at the sound and searched the chamber. The mandala was still beneath her, the low table had not moved, and the ritual ring rested near the wall where she had thrown it.
There was no blood anywhere, and both of her hands were clean. Fancy scrubbed her palms against her saree anyway until the fabric dragged rough against her skin.
"Fancy," Vespera repeated, keeping her voice level. Fancy swallowed against the rawness in her throat before answering, "I’m here."
Her own voice sounded distant enough that she almost looked around for whoever had spoken. Vespera watched her carefully. "Can you stand?"
Fancy planted one foot against the floor and tried, but her legs folded beneath her. Vespera crossed the distance and caught her arm before her shoulder struck the table.
Fancy steadied herself against the woman, breathing through her mouth until the room stopped tilting. Something on her wrist caught the morning light, and a fresh mark had appeared against her skin: J ? — SPADE.
The ritual had worked. Some part of Fancy knew that should have mattered more than anything else in the room, but she could still feel the rope burning across hands that had never touched it.
"What did you see?" Vespera asked, and Fancy’s grip tightened around her own wrist. Herald hanging, Herald burning, her hands around his throat, and that smiling version of herself crowded together behind her eyes.
Fancy forced herself upright. "I need to find Herald," she said, already turning toward the door.
Vespera’s fingers tightened slightly around her arm. "Fancy—" she began, but Fancy cut across her before she could finish.
"Is it finished?" Fancy looked toward the discarded ring instead of Vespera. After a pause, Vespera followed her gaze and answered, "Yes."
Fancy pulled free and moved into the corridor. The air outside felt colder against the sweat on her skin, and she kept one hand against the stone wall until the weakness in her knees stopped trying to fold them beneath her.
Footsteps approached from the other end, each one sharpening as they crossed the narrow passage. Fancy looked up and saw Herald walking toward her.
He was alive.
Herald slowed when he noticed her. "Fancy?" His voice reached her clearly, but for one terrible instant she could only see the rope around his neck.
"Fancy?" he called again, taking another step toward her. She blinked hard, and the rope disappeared.
Herald stood there pale and exhausted, but alive. Nothing marked his throat, no blood stained his clothes, and his chest rose with every breath.
Fancy crossed the distance before he could speak again and caught both his shoulders hard enough to make him stumble. "What—" Herald started, grabbing her forearms to steady himself.
"Are you okay?" Fancy searched his face and then his neck, unable to stop her eyes from moving. Her fingers nearly rose toward his throat before she forced them to stay against his sleeve.
Herald frowned. "I was about to ask you that." His hands loosened around her arms, but Fancy kept hold of him.
"I’m fine." The answer left her too quickly, and Herald’s eyes narrowed.
"You don’t look fine." His gaze moved over her swollen eyes and the strands of hair still stuck against her cheek.
"Nothing happened to you?" Fancy asked, keeping one hand wrapped around his sleeve. Herald glanced down at her grip before answering.
She released his shoulders but kept hold of his sleeve. "I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. Ever."
Herald stared at her, the joke gone from his face. "Fancy—" he started, but she tightened her fingers in the fabric.
"Do you think I would?" she asked.
A few minutes ago, she had wished him luck and walked toward her own ritual. Now her eyes were swollen, her breathing still uneven, and she stood in front of him asking whether he expected her to hurt him.
Herald hesitated. "Maybe. Who knows?" The answer slipped out lightly, and Fancy’s grip loosened at once.
"Oh." Her gaze dropped toward the floor.
Herald’s mouth tightened as he realized what he had done. "That was a joke."
"I know." Fancy looked away, but her voice had gone smaller.
"You very clearly don’t." Herald shifted around until she had little choice but to face him again.
"I said I know." Fancy wiped quickly beneath one eye and tried to turn away, but Herald moved with her.
"Fancy, I don’t know who you were before." His voice lost the teasing edge. "I don’t know what our relationship was, what we used to do together, or even what kind of person I was when I knew you."
Fancy’s gaze dropped again, but Herald continued before she could hide behind silence. "I know the woman who found me in that desert, and I know the person who’s stayed beside me since I woke up."
He gestured vaguely toward her, searching for the words as he went. "You worry about everything, you keep looking behind you to make sure I’m still there, and you’re so bad at hiding things that I’m starting to wonder how you’ve survived this long."
Fancy looked up sharply. "I’m not bad at hiding things."
"You’ve been crying." Herald pointed toward her face, and Fancy wiped beneath one eye again.
"That doesn’t prove anything." The gesture did not help her argument.
"It proves at least one thing." Herald reached out and pulled her cheek between his fingers before she could retreat.
Fancy grabbed his wrist immediately. Herald ignored the warning in her glare and continued, "As much as I’ve seen of you, I trust you. You’re not going to hurt me. You’re too sweet for that."
"Ow! Herald!" Fancy slapped his hand away and rubbed her cheek, this time producing a glare with enough force behind it to look familiar.
Herald’s shoulders loosened. "There. Terrifying."
"Do that again, and maybe I will hurt you." Fancy pointed at him while still rubbing the reddened skin.
"That’s more believable." Herald’s mouth curved, and Fancy held the glare for another second before a laugh escaped her.
It came out small and uneven, but it was hers. The tightness in her chest eased enough for a full breath, and for the first time since the ritual began, the corridor no longer felt like another piece of the nightmare.
They started toward the main corridor together, with Fancy staying close enough that their sleeves brushed whenever the passage narrowed. Herald noticed but said nothing, and more importantly, he did not ask what she had seen.
Fancy kept her eyes on the stone ahead and let that silence remain between them. After everything the ritual had shown her, she was grateful for the one question Herald chose not to ask.