Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" If clarity's in death then why,
Won't this die?
Years of tearing down our banners, you and I,
Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts,
Give me back my girlhood, it was mine
First "
―"GO ON, YI," my mother urges as I stare at the dark entrance to the temple. The scent of water-infused stone fills the moist air within, eerie as much as it is slightly pleasant. A tomb. I want to ask why we're here, but instead I enter, letting the smell of rain waft through the air and sink its claws into my emerald silks, my eyes scanning the place.
My mother follows behind me, taking an unlit lantern that hangs from a wooden support and lighting it, the licks of flame flashing menacingly. It feels like I'm exploring an ancient treasure trove, the promise of riches and luxury deeper within.
My chest tightens as my mother leads me further into the temple, the smell of moss making its way into my nose as we reach a small room, the walls formed by posts of stone, ivy vines growing out like the tentacles of a forest beast.
"Mama, what are we doing here?" I ask, my voice tiny as my hand traces the petals of a wilted flower growing out from one of the stone columns.
"Your brother, Qhang, will become a true Taban warrior," she tells me, her perfect lips tilting upwards. Her amber-golden eyes glow with the light of the lantern dancing within. "And you will be the one to perfect the ritual."
"What ritual?" I ask cautiously.
"Yizhi, have you heard of the khergud we have been experimenting with?"
Something in my chest tightens, like it always does. "Shu soldiers that meld their bones with Grisha steel," I say quietly, my voice hollow. "There haven't been any successful procedures yet."
"That's right," my mother praises. "Until now."
"What?"
She leads me into a room with tightening walls and my eyes widen when I see my brother Qhang lying on a stone bedstead absent of any blankets or pillows. He simply stays there, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as though deceased, even though his chest rises with each breath.
"Today, we have discovered the correct order of concern to create the ideal khergud. And your brother, Qhang, will be the very first," my mother tells me softly, pushing me forward. "You will perform the procedure."
My lips refuse to move.
"All you need to do is meld a concoction of alloy and Grisha steel into his bones. It has already been prepared beforehand," she explains. "You must graft his wings on and alter the structure of his spine to withstand the weight of them. The very last step is to adjust his neural pathways in order for his mind and body to accept the change."
