Diffraction

Chapter One: Markday

From daybreak 'til the sun goes down, Devoted shall I be.

Celebration filled the central street of Northridge. A bonfire sprang to life, and cheers rang out under clouds streaked orange and red in the setting sun. The sweet aroma of smoked meats and sugary cakes filled the air. Men and women danced barefoot in circles on the packed earth to the trilling of a flute. Many sang. All smiled.

All but one.

A slim figure darted between clusters and pockets of revelers. Her gold-trimmed white hood concealed most of her features, though wisps of black hair slipped out with each hurried step. She dodged offers to join a dance and ducked under extended pints of ale.

Someone recognized her robe and called out with a grin, "Are you new-Marked this day, Devoted?" Two men beside him raised hands ready to praise her.

She glared at them, revealing a face white as her garment. The men blanched, and she continued on her way. Lyllithe, the Ghostskin. The Eldest's so-called daughter. She could not make out their whispers, but she knew the words they spoke. Lyllithe had heard them all her life.

Laughter from the crowd echoed. Only the Markday festival, she reasoned. But a doubtful voice spoke in her mind. They laugh because they saw your face. Past conversations replayed in her memory unbidden:

"Still no Mark on her? What a shame for the Eldest. His own daughter cannot pass the Test. Is this her fourth year trying?"

"Well she's not really his daughter. She's got elemental blood in her. So..."

"Of course, yes, that probably has something to do with it. Who knows what the Divine thinks about ghostskins and duns and such..."

"I know what I think of them."

Lyllithe reached the end of the street, and she pushed away her fears. The Abbey tower rose high over her head. The tallest building in Northridge looked peach in the setting sun. The smaller moon twinkled and the larger shone full in the twilight sky. 

She rushed up the steps and flung open the door. Two Devoted in white stood when Lyllithe entered.

"Am I too late?" she asked, half hoping the Testing had ended.

Mistress Nyalesee, the older of the two, smiled wide and beckoned. "No, dear, of course not. Light yet shines, so it is still Markday." Cheeks brushed by auburn curls, she pulled back her hood, then gestured for Lyllithe to follow into the sanctuary.

Their footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as they walked between simple benches to the dais at the center of the circular room. The last touches of sunlight peeked through the windows near the ceiling. A serving girl started lighting rows of candles for the Night Watch. Fragrant incense filled Lyllithe's nose.

Lyllithe pulled back her hood and ran fingers through her hair. The collar-length black strands covered the pointed tips of her ears to hide the physical proof of her mixed blood. She caught herself hiding her features and stopped. It doesn't matter. Everyone here knows what I am already.

Nyalesee took one of the two stools and turned to her companion, a stately woman with a perpetual scowl. "Harra, do you require Lyllithe to complete the interview, or will her demonstration suffice?"

Harra pursed her lips. "She does it correctly or she doesn't Test at all."

Nyalesee rolled her eyes. "We have the past four results on record. Exceptional marks, every year."

"And yet she struggles to manifest the Light each time," Harra replied. She cocked her head and smiled. "Complete failure, every year."

"Sister, we waste time. Outside of Testing, she has potential we've not seen in decades."