But right now, the world seemed so big, and she was so tiny. The planet spilled through her fingers like dry, coarse dirt. It didn’t obey because she didn’t either.

  A blast of light took her attention away from the ceiling to the base of the altar platform. Tychon’s angelic spirit shook his hand in two sharp flicks, rubbing it swiftly with the other hand as if to draw the pain away.

  He looked older, aged. Like he had lived his entire life in his death, coming back to the past to ensure she did right by him even if she hadn’t in the first place. Redemption. Reconciliation.

  Everyone else in the room stared through the spectre and into her soul.

  Tychon pointed behind her. She stretched her neck and the back of her head hit the carpet as she looked under the pews. Sitting in the dark was the stone that Tychon used in his ritual.

  Gasps, tackling, thrashing and screaming. A hooded boy and a girl in uniform dancing against a chalk circle, dust flying in the air and feathers catching on their clothing. Blood sparking from a dark place, a glass shattering under the weight of a mortal being. Tychon Alastor Galacia, left dead at the hands of Elise Excava, and the eyes of Veaer Rosell.

  Her knees hit the side of the pew with her attempt at standing up, the song in a crescendo, clapping and ecstatic cheers joining the ritual as the protectors threw lavender. The white robed protector laid flat on the altar table. So pristine and so pure. With no mask, it was only a young girl, even younger than Elise. Her lips were drawn tight, yet her eyes bulged in fear and anticipation. She likely didn’t know the feeling of a blade against skin, when it pierced the surface and brought up fresh blood. She likely didn’t know what death meant.

  Her gaze slipped towards Tychon before she realised he disappeared and in place was Elise flipping the handle of the knife in her palm, like waiting to put her pen down on a test.

  The princess lifted her hands, and the knife reflected the flames around them. Veaer pushed past the protectors who jeered in protest, breaking the chant, and she seized Elise’s wrists, making her drop the knife.

  Harq screamed at her as he clamoured onto the altar platform, creating a pathway between the order members. Veaer tackled Elise to the ground, pinning her arms and legs beneath her, crystal anklets digging into her legs as she held the girl in place.

  The protectors approached and grabbed at Veaer’s hair and clothes. Along her arms, around her neck, her head, her ears, her eyes. They tried to throw her off, tried to yell at all her wrongdoings.

  Veaer shook the creeping fingers off her back and she locked eyes with the only person who would listen to her right now.

  “Stop this, Elise!” She forced the words through sobs. As if a knife had been driven through her, she doubled over and ignored the sharp tingling in her arms. “Don’t you see that this won’t be the last if you don’t stop now?” Her crying turned into hysterical laughter that rang eerie through the largely empty hall. The music scratched along, dull without the growing euphoria of a ritual in the making. “You can’t bring them back like this! You can’t bring them back, you can’t bring them back, you can’t bring them back—”

  She grabbed a hold of Elise’s shoulders and shook her over and over, letting the back of the princess’ head hit the platform ten times over as the protectors and Harq watched in petered off quiet. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

  “Why do you keep doing this?” Thud. “They don’t deserve this!” Thud. “I’m here, I really am, so why won’t you just… don’t you trust me? Why won’t you tell me?”

  She let go of Elise and sat up, panting and wiping the sweat off her brow.

  Under her, the princess stared at her with wide, shiny eyes. She took a deep breath, her chest rising as much as it could with weight upon her, before her exhalation came out as a wheeze.

  “I must, Veaer,” Elise whispered, for her circumstance over any attempt at secrecy. Her fringe stuck to her forehead and her white dress was stained by dirt and mud. “They told me that if I do this, that if I get rid of all of them, then I will be the one to reign true and ascend.”

  “Who? Who told you this?”

  “The angels.” A twinkle sparked in Elise’s eyes as a smile crept over her lips. The freckles on her cheeks morphed into different constellations as they flickered red and bright. “They speak to me in dreams and visions.”

  “That doesn’t—”

  “They kept ringing in my ears! They kept telling me to find her. To find the little purple cat. To drive my mother’s knife through her stomach. I didn’t want to, but they told me, and I can’t stop now, Veaer!” She cackled in the way Veaer hadn’t heard since the day Tychon died. Elise’s hands mobilised, grasping Veaer’s arms. “Then they said Tychon was hiding something. That he wasn’t truly my friend. He was only working against me, that’s what Galacias do. They act on your side and trick you until they bleed you dry. They told me I had to do it first if I wanted to survive. Then there are two left…”

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

  “This is your fault!” Veaer freed her hands and hit the carpet next to Elise’s head as frustration overtook her. “This doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix anything. You can’t kill anymore, for a sacrifice, for the angels. How can you continue to walk this path? It’s too much. I want to protect you but… but I can’t if… you do this.” Her hands went limp, her palms hovering over Elise’s cheeks. “I want to protect you, but I can’t when you’re this.”

  “This?” Elise paused, then placed her palms to each side of herself and sat up against Veaer’s will and strength.

  Veaer tumbled to the side as Elise stood up like she was only a flimsy blanket that she had tried for a cool night only to see how useless it really was. She stayed seated on the edge of the altar platform, watching Elise bend down to pick up the discarded knife that dripped in fresh blood.

  Veaer’s eyes widened, and she looked to the girl who had been on the altar platform, a cut along her left forearm, staying silent at the outskirts of the group after the chaos. The protectors rushed to the girl’s side and Veaer held her head in her hands, trying but failing deep breaths, tears rushing down her cheeks again.

  I could’ve killed her. I could’ve killed her. I could’ve killed her. I could’ve killed her.

  “Get up,” Elise demanded, holding her hand out and snapping Veaer out of a spiral of regret. She grabbed Elise’s soft palm and avoided the looks of the protectors, even if she could feel them on the side of her face.

  Her limbs weighed heavy, and time slowed down again. She focused on Elise’s face which smiled back at her.

  “You must have forgotten, Rosell. I am the most powerful one here. Your words will not change the outcome of today. Life will return.” Elise held up her hand and let her fingers touch the top of Veaer’s head, slowly running up and down and through the strands. “It will find a way.” It has a way to take as much as it gives. Elise stayed silent for a strange amount of time, her head tilting to the side slightly, her lips straightening, and her eyes floating elsewhere.

  Veaer gripped Elise’s robes and shook her, gently. “What is it?” She looked around, for perhaps a ghost only the two of them could see. Glints of gold and light that weren’t there before surrounded them, but nothing tangible. Nothing she could trust to have Elise’s best interest in mind. “What are you doing?”

  Elise blinked and frowned, her gaze meeting Veaer’s. A message of unknown factors lingered between them, and she was desperate to claw at the air to gather something, a semblance of an answer.

  “Life is precious,” the princess finally said in a voice that didn’t sound entirely hers. “Perhaps we cannot do an exact exchange.”

  Veaer was taken aback, her knees turning weak and her grip growing tighter. “Then?”

  “The world must balance.” The world always balances. “And for that, I will return to the dust from which I came.”

  “No!” Veaer crumpled to her knees as the words hit her ears. Her palms pressed her face as she couldn’t bear to watch Elise say more.

  “To atone for my sins.”

  “No, no. There has to be another way. We’ll find another way!”

  “And I will bring my image everlasting love.”

  Veaer took a breath of air like it was the last she would ever take. “Love… everlasting love?” She uncovered her face and looked up at Elise whose gaze touched every mortal in the room.

  The princess crouched down.

  “I will be a saint, Ve.” Elise pooled Veaer's silver hair in her palm, like prayer beads intertwined in her fingers and the pendent bared on her wrist. “Don't you understand? They will love me.”

  CHAPTER 43

  VEAER ROSELL

  With all attention beckoned towards Elise as she stood up and wiped the dirty knife on her tainted dress, she did seem like a saint for a second.

  Worshipped, cherished, and beloved forever.

  Veaer gripped Elise’s clothes so tightly that she feared to rip it apart. But she couldn’t help the waves of grief already consuming her, not after all her time and risk and effort. Not after everything she’s done.

  “But I love you. I love you with everything!” Veaer begged and prayed, clasping her hands together and shaking them before grabbing the princess again lest she floated away to the heavens. “Please don’t listen to them. I love you more than any angel could. Please, is that not enough?”

  The angels knew nothing if their solution was to take one she loved. This was punishment for all she did and didn’t do. She leaned against the altar table and brought her hands to her face. All this time while Izot antagonised her, and Tychon kept secrets from her, and Elise moved through the isolated motions of the academy, she still couldn’t give Elise what she was missing.

  “I’m sorry, Veaer,” Elise said. The princess held her against her hip and ran a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry if this hurts you.” Veaer glanced through her fingers at the gently smiling Elise. “I’m sorry that you felt you needed to do this, that you had to follow me. I’m sorry that you love me. But no, it will never be enough.”

  Never. “Never?” She sniffed and tried to pull Elise closer, but she formed like water in her hands, barely a pool in her palm, otherwise soaking through her. “But what about… everything?” Everything I’ve done for you. Everywhere I’ve gone for you.

  Elise inhaled and spent time taking a seat next to Veaer, both of their backs against the altar. The protectors faded away and Harq remained idle, listening with furrowed brows and then a look at his watch. His lips parted for a moment as he caught Veaer’s eye, before he pursed his lips and looked away. They had time, just a little.

  The princess inched her hand onto Veaer’s thigh. She squeezed gently and avoided her gaze. “I don’t think I’m meant for this world. I think I’ve only been destined to complete something of the past, of my ancestors, before I return to Ter and Mian.” Her grip tightened. “It’s always been this way. My brother is a light for the world and my father a leading hand. I am a shadow in the corner and my dreams are truly haunted by something I know in my blood but nothing in my living experience. I’m technically halfway there but it doesn’t feel like it.” Elise swayed to the side and rested her cheek on Veaer’s shoulder. Silent tears trailed down and landed in Veaer’s lap. “It doesn’t feel like it… and maybe it never will. Maybe all of this is for nothing, and it should all end now, just like you said. I can’t keep doing this—when I don’t even know why I am.”

  Veaer scrunched her skirt into her hands, trying her very hardest to keep the pressure behind her eyes away. Yes, Elise had to stop and let go. No, she shouldn’t have to get rid of herself to do so. Yes, she took the lives of others, and this would be retribution. No, there had to be another way.

  “Can’t we start over? Leave this all behind and become stars instead of shadows?” Veaer tried to crack a smile, but her lips twisted in the wrong ways.

  Elise turned her body to face Veaer and held her hand up to a blotchy face. “You’re already a star. Shining bright and with so much potential. You don’t need to come down just to lift me up.” Her hand dropped away, and she grabbed the altar table to help herself up, Veaer watching the movement of stained white cloth like clouds moving through the dark sky.

  “And—And your underclassmen?” Veaer squeaked, her hand reaching up to catch Elise, but she moved out of sight, around the altar table. Veaer stumbled up, clumsy with exhaustion on the edges of her being. The mumbled commands for the protectors were unclear, only Harq’s voice breaking through the barriers in his paranoia of the time. The moon shone high and bright through the cathedral’s back wall, those glass halos returning to Ter and Mian’s crowns.

  “What of them?” Elise answered with no mind of the protectors redrawing the circle, replacing the melted candles with fresh unlit ones, and the knife being sterilised for its next victim. Harq consulted a small notebook and glanced at his watch again. The princess moved with grace, her crystal jewellery making sweet music like hanging chimes, even while everyone else in the cathedral dragged their feet and held their heads low with the scent of decay and death among them. Elise was right—she was the most powerful here and there was nothing they could do about it.

  Veaer held the foot of the altar table tightly, her mind grasped by disbelief. She pinched her hand and then pinched it again. “They follow you, they love you. It’s a start, is it not?” She swallowed her tongue, disgusted by her own words of compliance and normality.

  “They stay for the secrecy and special attention,” Elise sang, her gaze elsewhere as a protector presented her the cleaned ritual knife, shiny and sharp. She reflected it against the moonlight, her back to Veaer. “And for the same reasons, they leave. Isolation, desire too big, trying to stretch me out as if they own me. I don’t even remember half their names, half their faces. They are all meaningless and selfish.”

  The angels laughed in Veaer’s mind. She gripped the table tight enough for the cloth to bunch in her hands. Even when the bow wasn’t pointed at her, the arrows still found their way, digging deep and leaving her to bleed slowly and slowly.

  “I thought that there was more than this,” Veaer whispered, her eyes brimming with tears that burned her. She stepped around the table, gauging the princess’ reaction, and continued forward when it was evident that she had no effect. “That I am enough to stay for. That, that—we were going to find all the answers. Understand everything.”

  Elise remained with her body turned towards the altar table despite Veaer’s attempts to guide them towards each other. The circle was complete, and the music started playing from the beginning. Chanting filled the podium, rising high into the ceiling and low into the dirt under their feet. A collective sigh of relief pulled the tension between Veaer and Elise even tighter.

  The princess tilted her head, her neck becoming exposed to Veaer as her hair followed to the other side. “Haven’t we already? Haven’t we found the answers we need?” And at a quiet moment in the song, Elise extended the ritual knife towards Veaer.

  “What— we…” She looked between the carved blade and the side of Elise’s head. The lightning pattern of common butterfly wings struck across the princess’ cheek and her neck, her smooth golden skin tainted then returning pure in a blink. Veaer quickly became aware of the way her clothes stuck to her collarbone and how her skirt hung uncomfortably around her thighs. How the music clawed away at her ears and the protectors were far too close to her like insects making their way under her shirt and through the holes in her skin.

  Before she even had a moment to conjure all the questions that clattered within her, to sate every hunger that ate away the stomach of her mind, Elise answered,

  “Take the knife.”

  “The knife? No, I couldn’t, no.” Veaer pulled away, her heel teasing the edge of the altar platform, but Elise caught her by the hip and pressed her other side against the altar cloth once again.

  “You must.”

  In confusion and terror, Veaer placed her palm over the back of Elise’s hand, staring into the princess’ eyes. The galaxy pooled in her deep brown irises, a universe reflecting the land that carried them through each step they took in life. Beyond the set lines of Elise’s face and the conviction written all over her expression, a tiny flame burned. It lashed with every breath but never grew. It stayed behind, safely, not threatening to make itself known to anyone else but Veaer.

  “You will be my first disciple, sweet Veaer Rosell,” Elise rejoiced, the hand free from Veaer’s grasp clutching her shoulder in utter trust and reverence. “In this sacrifice, I am a servant to the angelic heroes of past. I will repent for my sins and allow my soul to move onto better things. And once I do, you will honour me as a saint, so that in the afterlife I may receive a love never found—unable to be ruined, and undeniable.”

  Elise grabbed Veaer’s hand and closed her fingers over the handle of the knife. It was cold with sharpened wood grain and just felt entirely wrong. She couldn’t bear to shift her eyes, the texture of the handle burning so much that if she didn’t look, maybe it would go away—both the feeling and the weapon.

  A tug on her sleeve threw her back to reality and Elise laid flat on the altar table before her, her hands folded by her lap and her eyes closed—like she were asleep rather than afraid of what being stabbed would feel like.

  Harq began to circle behind the protectors who danced in the same motion. He belted a prayer and a chant in words she couldn’t recognise. When his gaze reached Veaer, only two words came through.

  Do it.

  And another.

  Do it now.

  A scream broke out of her like a beast ripping through her chest. She took the knife in both hands. To stop them shaking. To do this right and well by Elise. Her arms had been weakened in the state of her mind, yet she only held on tighter lest she wanted to watch this love die by a slip of the palm.