The Hush of the World (ONC 2024)

chapter 2

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rose garden as I knelt, gingerly weeding around the base of a plant. The air buzzed with the contented hum of bees, a peaceful counterpoint to the distant beat of a dak and dol drum. Every ten years, that drum marked the start of a celebration unlike any other in Benar - The Choosing. But for me, a village dreamseer, it was a herald of dread.

My reverie was shattered by a flurry of giggles and the unmistakable bounce of brown curls. Rani, my younger sister by four years, skidded to a halt before me, her eyes sparkling with an infectious excitement. "Ayina! Ayina! The Choosing starts today!"

I straightened, wiping the damp soil from my hands on my worn trousers. Rani, unlike me, embraced the Choosing. For her, it was a thrilling spectacle, a chance to witness the magic that pulsed on the border of our land. "Yes, bon," I said, the benari language rolling easily off my tongue, forcing a smile. "It does."

"The sooner it is done, the better," Amma said, as she sat on a chair close by, coughing something awful.

"Rani, hand this to your mother," abba said, holding a clay cup with a warm drink. He was frail from his years of toil, he dark eyes worried about his wife. My father had spent whatever money we had earned from last year's crops to pay for various healers, each came, each left with a defeated look. None were qualified to deal with the western cold except for a Farin healer and they were hard to come by and even harder to buy. Clutching against the pocket of my trousers I felt the hard object of the dusk moon seal. I had to get to the festivities soon, if I am to help amma.

Rani, oblivious to my inner turmoil, launched into a breathless account of the day's preparations. The giant tapestry depicting the history of the Choosing would be unveiled, the ceremonial dancers would paint the air with ribbons of shimmering light, and the elders would offer intricate prayers to appease the powers that dwelled beyond the Azenar Gate. Our parents humoured her. Even though they knew the outcome, Rani would yet again be denied passage. She tried, last year, but even with my parents prohibiting her, we were peasants that were too poor to even enter the event let alone be chosen.

In my past travels to the Benari courit, I had a glimpse of the Azenar Gate. It was large, even at a distance. A towering obsidian archway pulsing with an unnatural energy, a gateway to the forbidden realm of Elemore, home to the dark faeries. Every ten years, one maiden from the ages of eighteen onwards would be chosen to be offered as tribute. The gate either accepted the girl, claiming her into the swirling vortex within, or... well, no one spoke of the alternative.

"And then," Rani continued, her words tumbling over each other, "the chosen girl will walk through the gate! It'll be so exciting!"

My smile faltered. Excitement. That's how the villagers saw it - a lottery, a test of fate. But the dreams that haunted my sleep painted a far grimmer picture. Images of the gate rejecting the last sacrifice, of darkness erupting from within, of a war that would engulf both Benar and Elemore.

"Rani," I said, my voice tight, "have you ever thought about what this Choosing truly means?"

Rani's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? It's been the way it's always been. A way to keep the darkness at bay."

"But what if there's more to it?" I pressed, the weight of my premonitions a leaden weight in my chest. "What if the sacrifice doesn't appease whatever lurks beyond the gate? What if..."

"Don't be silly, Ayina," Rani interrupted, her voice laced with a hint of impatience. "The Choosing has always worked. This time will be no different."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with a youthful certainty I desperately wished I shared. Yet, a chilling certainty gnawed at me. This time, the Choosing would be different. And the consequences could be dire. The distant drumbeat intensified, a solemn counterpoint to the storm brewing within me. The festivities were about to begin, but for me, the real fight had just started.

***

The sliver of a moon cast an eerie glow through the gaps in the rickety shutters, illuminating the worn leather pouch clutched in my hand. Inside, nestled amongst the meagre coins I'd earned mending clothes, lay my prize: the Dusk Moon Seal. Stealing it from the Council chambers had been a desperate gamble, but desperation gnawed at me like a starving beast. My mother's health was failing, the healers within Benar offering little hope. Whispers of a famed Western healer attending the Choosing fueled a fragile hope within me. Perhaps, just perhaps, I could use the Seal - a symbol of authority within the Council - to barter for his services.

With a silent prayer, I slipped out the back door, the cool night air wrapping around me like a damp shroud. The Choosing festival, a spectacle of dubious merit, thrummed with a chaotic life a short distance away. My stomach clenched. I wasn't there for the festivities - the dancing ribbons of light, the cacophony of music, or the morbid display of the chosen girl. I was there for a single, desperate purpose: to save my mother.

Suddenly, a voice, laced with youthful excitement, shattered the night's fragile quiet. "Ayina? Where are you going all dressed up?"

Rani stood framed in the moonlight, her sleepwear rumpled and her hair a frizzy mess of waves. I smoothed down my mother's old gown, it was ill-fitted, her bust area too tight and the length too slim for my curves. Rani resembled mother more, slim and dainty and unlike me, she also reveled in the Choosing. To her, it was a thrilling spectacle, a chance to witness the magic that pulsed at the border of our land.

"Just... taking a walk," I mumbled, shoving the pouch deeper into my pocket.

"Right." She said, raising a sceptical brow.

"You're not coming." I growled, as I started walking towards the horse drawn carriage Angur managed to procure for the night. Naisha sat at the reigns an amused expression on her face as she watched the exchange. Angur simply watched me, a small blush on his cheeks.

"You look nice." He said. I tried to ignore his compliments. We all knew he followed me around like a love-struck puppy ever since we were kids.

"But everyone's at the Choosing! Even Naisha is here, with her fancy carriage and shimmering gown." Rani continued, her voice bubbled with a childlike enthusiasm that felt misplaced on a nineteen-year-old woman.

A pang of guilt twisted in my gut. Rani deserved a carefree life, not one burdened by the weight of my desperation. But the thought of her attending the Choosing, a place teeming with danger and dark magic, sent a shiver down my spine.

"Absolutely not," I said firmly. "The Choosing is no place for you. It's dangerous out there, especially near the Azenar Gate."

Rani's lower lip trembled. "But Ayina! It'll be so exciting! And everyone will be there."

A flicker of anger sparked within me - anger at myself for letting things get this bad, anger at the Choosing for its macabre tradition. "Rani," I said, my voice low and serious, "listen to me carefully. The Choosing is not a game. It's a... a sacrifice."

The playful glint in Rani's eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of fear. But before she could respond, a new sound pierced the night - the mournful wail of a horn, a harbinger of the ceremony's start. My heart hammered against my ribs. Time was running out.

"I have to go," I whispered, the weight of my burden threatening to crush me. "Stay here. Please, Rani. I promise I'll be back before dawn."

With a final, pleading look at my sister, I slipped into the night, the weight of the Dusk Moon Seal heavy in my pocket, a desperate hope burning bright in my heart. The Choosing might be a celebration for some, but for me, it was a desperate gamble - a gamble for my mother's life.