Xadezhda
At the mouth of the Caves, Xadya's hands shook with nerves. Her friends waited in the Below, about to witness her at her most vulnerable, and she would come out the other side a completely different person.
Was she ready?
There hadn't been time to consider that.
"Malakhai," she whispered, clinging tightly to him as he led her through the darkness.
"I'm here," he soothed.
They'd made it to the stairs and she stopped, turning to him, weaving her hands into his hair, her face close to his.
"I'm scared," she said in a small voice.
He kissed her, then, lips soft against hers. She melted into him and when they pulled apart, her arms were around him and her face buried into his chest.
"You'll remember, if that's what you wish."
"You can do that?" she asked, eyes wide. She thought back to her last Intiation and said, "there isn't anyone for me to kill this time."
"You do not need to prove yourself to me, Xadezhda. To the gods, maybe, but not to me."
He held her hand and led her down the steps.
Oliwia waited for them in one of the cells. Xadya's chains were ready. Her friends were there, waiting. Finley and Luisza, too.
"Come," Oliwia beckoned. Xadya ignored the desperation in everyone's faces and went to the Arcane. "Are you sure about this? You told me once, that I would run if I could."
Xadya looked away. It was true. She would miss the quiet of being human. But if they truly wanted to be rid of the gods, they needed a reason to come to her. And she needed the strength to fight them.
Malakhai locked the cell door with the three of them inside. The others would watch through the bars. It was safer, out of reach.
Salt had been mined and weapons had been gathered. Oliwia snapped chains around Xadya's wrists and neck. They would hold her still.
Her doublet was ripped off and discarded. Oliwia readied her knives. Malakhai licked his fingers and dipped them into the bowls of salt.
Xadya stared at Airo's face through the bars. He looked in more pain than ever, bracing himself for the horror he was about to witness.
He'd had enough of Xadya's suffering. She knew that.
The second time was more difficult, knowing what was to come. Oliwia's knife met skin and muscle and bone in her back and Xadya whimpered, scrunched her face in, breaths heavy, tears streaming down her cheeks as Malakhai forced the wound open with his talons and filled it with salt.
It was the first of many, and the easiest pain she'd experience that day. Worse would come later and Xadya would never, ever forget.
She woke on the floor.
Her hands, the first thing she saw, remained unmarked. Blood dripped from her wounds, giving the indication she had not healed.
Xadya peeled herself off the stone floor and forced her eyes open.
No. They were already open. She could not see.
Hello, child.
Xadya gasped.
Yzaos?
Are you pleased, little one? You sound it.
She wasn't displeased, per se. What happened? she asked.
