The Book of Glass

Whispers

Go.

Emory lifted her head from the ground and made eye contact with Shay, the younger girl who sat upon the wooden throne covered in flowers. The girl looked confused as to why Emory stopped praying, and Emory shook her head as if to ask that she keep quiet. Emory knew from experience that the caretakers didn't appreciate it when she interrupted prayer.

Run, Emory.

Now, Emory sat up, her heart racing as the soft voice in her head disrupted her prayers to Rosalind. The nearest caretaker, folded over on the stone floor beside Emory, gripped her arm and pulled her back down to the ground.

"Sorry, Head Caretaker. Rosalind, I pray you guide me. Goddess Rosalind, I pray you nourish me. Mother Rosalind, I pray you keep me safe," Emory spoke aloud, trying to drown out the whispering voices in her head. Her small voice shook and lowered to a mutter.

It became quiet in the room again. No noise could be heard except the calm breathing of the caretakers, or the occasional sound of a guard shifting his body at the entrance to the room. The flames that lit the candles in the room stretched toward the ceiling, unwavering in their motion.

Run!

Shouts broke out somewhere in the castle. Metal fell against metal, and a heavy beating on the wooden doors to the room made everyone jump with fear. All of the women in the room stopped praying, scurrying to their feet as the guards near the door unsheathed their swords in preparation for what may come through.

Emory hurried to Shay, pulling her up from the throne and holding her small hand in her own. "Emory, stay with the prophet," the caretaker ordered as she made her way over to a tapestry on the wall. She tore it down, letting the colorful fabric of Rosalind and her long, watery hair fall. It looked like a plain wall, but as the children watched, the caretaker revealed a chink in the stone and pulled at it with all the strength not any old woman could muster. As she was pulling, the fighting outside came to a stop.

A voice broke through the silence, heavy with breath and fear. "Caretakers, it is Ezekiel. King Alaric is dead. Let me in so I can guide you to safety."

The other caretakers' heads swiveled in the Head Caretaker's direction, and she gave a nod to the guards, who let the breathless Commander inside of the room before securing the doors behind him. "The King is dead. Advisor Evander has betrayed us all. Come," he grunted as he swung the door the rest of the way open. "We need to hurry."

"Wait," Shay cried out. "We can't leave without my mother. They'll hurt her."

Silence fell over everyone as Ezekiel let his head drop. Go, the voice ushered Emory again. Tightening her grip on Shay's hand with her own shaking one, Emory pulled her toward the Head Caretaker. "We should leave."

"Yes, we shall. Everyone, come now."

The girls were led by the Head Caretaker, who followed along behind Ezekiel as he made his way through the small, dark corridor. A guard had stayed behind to close the door once more and put up the tapestry, but the other had followed suit behind the rest of the caretakers. Shay cried as they descended deeper and deeper into the castle walls, mourning the loss of her parents. Emory held onto the girl, trying to console her as she listened to the sound of footsteps and their echoes. Among the echoes, one could make out the sound of caretakers as they prayed to Rosalind under their breath for protection.

"Pray with me, Shay, we must pray." Emory wrapped her arms around the young Prophet, grabbing onto her hands for support.

"I pray to you my true mother, Rosalind, for protection. I pray. May your words guide me," Shay repeated over and over as they left, and Emory prayed along in her thoughts.

I am here.