Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IN THE WHITE CATHEDRAL, I went to go visit the priest. Though I certainly wasn't looking forward to it.
It took quite a toll on me to get up.
On my first attempt, it felt like there was liquid in my head, the imaginary liquid sloshing heavily when I sat upright. My vision went black for at least five seconds before it cleared and I could get up on my feet and walk.
"Sankta Angelique," the Apparat said, "you are come to us at last."
Then he fell to his knees in his tattered brown robes. He kissed my hand, my hem. He called out to the faithful, thousands of them gathered in the belly of the cavern. When he spoke, the very air seemed to tremble. "We will rise to make a new Ravka," he roared. "A country free from tyrants and kings! We will spill from the earth and drive the shadows back in a tide of righteousness!"
Below us, the pilgrims chanted. Sankta Angelique. Sankta Anzhelik.
The latter hit a little to close to home, my name in Ravkan. The name that Nikolai liked to use to try and have his way.
There were rooms carved into the rock, chambers that glowed ivory and glittered with thin veins of silver. Mal helped me to my quarters, made me eat a few bites of sweet pea porridge, and brought me a pitcher of fresh water to fill the basin. A mirror had been set directly into the stone, and when I glimpsed myself, I froze. My skin was not its usual healthy light bronze. It was pale. My usual lithe build was reduced to a stickly one. My black hair did not have its sheen, instead it was dull and dry.
I touched my fingertips to the glass. Mal's gaze met mine in the reflection.
