episode 3
798 Words
They did not let us go home.
That was the rule. We knew it since we were children, but we never really believed it until now.
After the last drop of blood fell into the last bowl, the Keepers did not send us away.
Instead, quiet helpers in light gray robes came from the side doors.
They guided us twenty-three girls with bandaged hands through a small door at the back of the platform.
No goodbyes. No last looks at our families.
Just hands on our arms, pushing us forward.
The families stayed behind the barriers, frozen.
The door closed with a loud sound.
Sunlight disappeared.
We walked through a long, dark hallway with torches on the walls.
Then they pushed us into a stone room inside the Temple.
No windows. No clocks.
Only benches along the walls, one bowl of water, and a door that locked from the outside.
Twenty-four hours.
They kept us there so the blood could “speak” in the big basin.
That’s what they said.
Really, it was to slowly take us away from our old lives.
No last hug from mothers.
No hiding in our own rooms.
Just us, our sore hands, and quiet.
We sat.
No one talked at first.
Some girls looked at their bandages.
Some walked back and forth until a helper told them to sit still.
No one cried. Tears were weak, even here.
But eyes were red. Breaths were shaky.
One girl from the river area hugged her knees and rocked.
Another stared at the wall cracks like she wanted to remember them forever.
I held my hand. The cut hurt under the cloth.
Three drops. That was all it took to change everything.
Time passed slowly. Torches burned low and got replaced.
Food came once flat bread and water. Nothing hot.
We ate because we had to. No one enjoyed it.
I thought about where I would end up.
A stranger’s house in the tall Iron Spire?
A quiet farm outside the walls?
Or nowhere unmatched, sent home but called “refused” forever, pitied or avoided?
The not-knowing hurt more than the cut.
Then the door opened.
A young helper with a blank face spoke for the first time in hours:
“Return to the platform.”
We stood. Legs felt stiff. Hearts beat loud.
They led us back through the same dark hallway.
Out into daylight that felt strange after so much dark.
The platform was the same. The stone table. The empty bowls.
The crowd was smaller but still there. Families waited.
Some mothers sat on the ground. Some fathers stood straight.
Faces pale. Hands tight.
We went back to our places on the cold stones.
We sat again. Facing our families.
This was the hardest part.
Seeing them maybe for the last time.
I saw Mother first. She held her shawl tight. Her eyes stayed on me.
Father stood next to her. Dust from the quarry still on his shoulders. His jaw was hard.
They did not wave. They did not call my name.
They just looked. I looked back.
No smiles. No tears.
But the space between us felt like it could break.
Then the bells rang slow and deep, three times.
The Keepers came.
Three of them. Gray robes. Hoods low.
They walked like they controlled everything.
The person with the knife walked behind them, carrying nothing now.
They stopped at the top of the steps.
One stepped forward. His voice was flat and clear.
“The blood has spoken.”
Names started.
First girl no match.
Her face showed relief, but she stayed quiet.
She stood and walked to the side door. Free to go home.
Second no match.
Third matched.
The girl stood. No sound. No fight.
A Keeper took her arm gently but strong.
“Follow,” he said.
She followed.
No look back. No words.
Gone through the eastern arch.
Her man waited somewhere beyond. Men never came to watch this.
Their blood was taken earlier, in private.
More names.
No match. Matched. No match.
Each matched girl stood like she was dreaming.
Keeper beside her. Walk to the arch. Gone.
My name came too fast.
Nyx of Veil Lane matched.
The word hurt like the cut again.
I stood. My legs moved by themselves.
A Keeper came to my side. Tall. Hooded. Gloved hand light on my arm.
“Follow.”
I followed.
One last look at Mother and Father.
Mother’s mouth opened no sound came.
Father lifted his hand, then let it drop.
Then the arch took me.
The hallway on the other side was cool and dark.
Footsteps echoed.
The Keeper said nothing.
Somewhere ahead was a door.
Behind it, a man I had never seen.
My life, decided.
No way back.
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