The Catalyst Queen: Shadows

The candle had burned itself nearly to nothing, but Cas had not moved. She sat upright on her cot with her knees drawn against her chest, chin resting across her folded arms. Around her, the other girls still slept beneath thin woven blankets, their breathing soft in the quiet of the dormitory. Sacred spaces in Lumen always seemed to possess a particular kind of silence, peaceful at first, until one listened long enough to realize how closely that silence seemed to watch. Beyond the high arched windows, the sky held its perpetual twi-light. Pale light rested over the sanctum grounds without rising or fading, softening the distant towers of Lumen into shades of silver and blue. The bells would mark morning soon. Here, time was measured less by the movement of the sun than by ritual, prayer, and the ordered rhythm of the Covenant. Today, she would no longer be Cas. The thought had followed her through the entire night. Today, the name she had carried unknowingly since birth would finally be spoken aloud, and with it would come the life Lumen had chosen for her. Every child born within the Covenant was given a true name at birth, though they were never permitted to know it. Until their sixteenth year, they were called by shortened forms, temporary names meant to belong only to childhood. At the Naming Ceremony, those names were surrendered before the High Oracle, who was said to receive each initiate’s true identity and purpose through Nyx herself. A name. A calling. A place within Lumen. Cas had spent most of her childhood believing there was something comforting in that certainty. She was no longer sure. A soft rustle came from the cot beside hers. Lys blinked sleepily at her from beneath a tangle of blankets, her hair spread around her face in a disordered halo. “Still awake? You’ve been restless all night.” Cas turned toward her. “I couldn’t sleep.” Lys stretched beneath her blanket and let out a quiet sigh. “You’re not alone. Eri’s been pretending to snore since midnight.” “I have not,” came Eri’s voice from the far cot, followed by the rustle of blankets. “I was trying to sleep. There is a difference.” Lys smiled. “You were snoring.” Eri lifted her head from the pillow. “I do not snore.” “You do a little.” Eri gave her a look. “Perhaps Nyx will be merciful and assign you somewhere very far away from me.” Cas laughed softly before she could stop herself, and some of the tension that had been sitting beneath her ribs loosened. Lys rolled onto her back, seemingly pleased with herself. “I hope she assigns me to the archives. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Some-where quiet, with old books and scrolls. I wouldn’t mind spending my days copying them.” “You would spend your days reading them instead,” Eri said. Lys smiled. “No one would have to know.” “You’d be good at it,” Cas said. “See?” Lys glanced toward Eri. “Cas has faith in me.” Eri finally sat up, gathering her hair away from her face. “Cas is being kind. I am being truthful.” “You are always being truthful when no one asked you to be.” Eri’s mouth twitched. “It is one of my better qualities.” Their laughter remained quiet, careful enough not to wake the other girls, but it gave Cas something else to listen to besides her own thoughts. For a few moments, the Naming felt farther away. Eri was the first to ruin that. “Though I doubt any of us get much say in it.” Lys’s smile faded slightly. “What does that mean?” Eri shrugged. “Only that I don’t believe the High Oracle walks into the Sanctum knowing nothing and waits for Nyx to tell her what to do with us.” “Eri,” Lys warned. “What?” Lys glanced toward the sleeping girls around them before lowering her voice. “You know what.” Eri lowered hers as well, though not by much. “I’m only saying they probably know beforehand.” Cas looked at her. “Our names?” “Maybe.” “And our roles?” Eri hesitated. “Those too.” Lys frowned. “But our names were given at birth.” “I know.” “So that proves nothing.” “I didn’t say it proved anything.” Cas listened to them, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her blanket. She had heard the same whispers Eri had. Everyone had, though most pretended otherwise. “What if they really do decide our roles before today?” Neither girl answered immediately. Lys looked toward her. “Would that change anything?” Cas thought about it. “I don’t know.” Eri drew her knees up beneath the blanket. “It would for me.” Cas looked at her. “Why?” “Because there’s a difference between Nyx choosing my life and someone else doing it for her.” That silenced them. Cas lowered her gaze to the blanket gathered around her legs. She wanted to believe the Naming was exactly what they had been taught it was: sacred, ancient, untouched by ambition. Yet the older she became, the harder it was not to notice the small contradictions everyone else seemed willing to ignore. Some initiates entered the Sanctum frightened and emer-ged with positions their families had openly hoped for. Questions about it were openly rejected. To question the Naming was to question the will of Nyx, and few were willing to risk what followed. Lys shifted beneath her blanket. “I think I’d rather not know be-forehand. Especially if it was something awful. Imagine having years to think about it.” “You already worry about things that haven’t happened,” Eri said. Lys gave her a look. “That is completely different.” Eri’s mouth twitched, but Cas barely noticed. She was still thinking about the lives that would be assigned to them before the morning was over. “What if you hated what they chose for you?” Lys’s expression faltered. For a moment she looked toward the windows rather than either of them. “I suppose I would learn not to.” The answer unsettled Cas more than she expected. Eri pulled her knees beneath the blanket, her earlier amusement fading. “Or you could hate it and still have to do it.” “You are determined to make this morning worse,” Lys murmured. “I’m being realistic.” “You’re being miserable.” Eri’s mouth twitched again. “Those are not always different things.” Cas smiled faintly, though neither answer had made her feel any better. Whatever name was spoken today would follow them for the rest of their lives. Whatever purpose was declared before the Sanctum would become theirs, whether it resembled anything they had imagined for themselves or not. The first bell sounded across the sanctum grounds before any of them could speak again, its low note passing through stone and glass until the dormitory itself seemed to answer it. Around them, blankets began to shift as the other girls woke. The privacy of the last few minutes disappeared almost immediately. Girls rose from their cots, smoothed their bedding, and moved toward the washbasins in the practiced silence expected of them. No matron had entered to give instruction. None needed to. Years of ritual had taught them what each bell required. Lys stared toward the door. “I was hoping it might forget about us.” Eri slipped from her cot and reached for her robe. “The bell?” “The entire ceremony.” “Ah.” Eri considered that as she stood. “That would have been convenient.” Cas lowered her feet to the cold floor. The stone shocked what little warmth remained from her body, and suddenly the Naming felt much closer than it had while they were whispering beneath blankets. The ceremonial robes waited near the dormitory doors, ivory linen cut simply and trimmed with narrow bands of gold. Every initiate would enter the Sanctum dressed alike. They had been taught that the simplicity represented equality before Nyx, that wealth, family, and rank meant nothing when a child stood before the goddess to receive her true name. Cas had always thought the robes were beautiful. This morning, they looked more like uniforms. Lys lifted hers from its peg and frowned at the thin linen. “They could have made these warmer.” Eri was already pulling hers over her head. “Perhaps discomfort encourages reverence.” Lys glanced at Cas. “See? This is why Nyx will punish her.” “If Nyx has endured sixteen years of Eri,” Cas said, “I doubt she intends to begin now.” Eri emerged from the folds of ivory cloth and regarded them both. “It is comforting to know how highly you think of me.” The laugh that escaped Cas was quiet, but genuine. She reached for her own robe and pulled it on, smoothing the cool linen over her body before tying the narrow belt at her waist. The knot sat crooked. She undid it and tried again, only for her fingers to betray her with a slight tremble. Lys noticed. “Give it here.” “I can manage.” “You’ve redone it twice.” Cas looked down at the belt, then reluctantly let her hands fall. Lys stepped closer and retied it for her, concentrating as though the knot itself were part of the ceremony. “There. Now whatever terrible fate awaits you, at least you’ll look respectable while receiving it.” Cas gave her a flat look. “You have a remarkable gift for comfort.” “I know.” Across the room, Eri had seated herself before the small mirror and begun braiding her dark hair. Cas lifted her hands toward her own, but Lys caught them gently before she could begin. “Let me,” Lys said. Cas turned toward her. The teasing had left Lys’s expression. “One last time,” she said softly. “Before everything changes.” Something tightened in Cas’s throat. She sat on the edge of the cot and allowed Lys to stand behind her, separating her hair into careful sections. The familiar pull of her fingers was soothing, ordinary enough to belong to every morning that had come before this one. Eri joined them once her own braid was finished, crouching to straighten the hem of Cas’s robe where it had folded beneath her ankle. “You realize that the moment we leave this room, everyone is going to pretend they aren’t terrified.” “You could try,” Lys said. Eri considered it while smoothing the linen flat. “No.” Cas laughed under her breath. Lys tied off the end of her braid and rested her hands briefly against Cas’s shoulders. “There. You look ready.” Cas looked toward the dormitory doors. She did not feel ready. The second bell began to toll. As they walked, Lys’s hand brushed lightly against Cas’s. It lasted no more than a moment, just enough for Cas to know it had been deliberate. Neither girl looked at the other. Under the watch of the attendants, even something as small as reassurance felt strangely intimate. The passage soon opened into the outer vestibule of the Sanctum, and the procession came to a halt. Ahead of them stood doors of pale stone nearly twelve feet high, their surfaces carved with runes older than the Luminae Doctrine. Silver filled the ancient markings, catching the muted twilight filtering through the glasswork overhead and returning it in thin ribbons of light. Cas had seen the doors before, though never from this side of the ceremony. Never knowing they were about to open for her. Her heartbeat quickened. Somewhere beyond them waited the High Oracle, and with her, the name Cas had carried for sixteen years without ever hearing spoken. The matron began moving along the line, inspecting each girl as she passed. A tilted chin was corrected with a glance, an uneven sleeve with the slightest motion of her fingers. When she reached the end, she turned to face them. “You will enter when summoned and keep your eyes lowered until instructed otherwise. When your childhood name is called, you will approach the sacred circle and kneel before the High Oracle. There, you will receive the name and purpose Nyx has chosen for you.” They all knew the instructions. The rite had been taught to them so many times that Cas could have recited every word alongside her, yet the matron continued with the same solemn precision. “The decree of the High Oracle is the decree of the goddess. To resist the Binding is to reject your place within Lumen. You will receive both with gratitude, humility, and reverence.” Something moved beside Cas. Eri had shifted her weight, barely enough to disturb the fall of her robe, but Cas noticed. Anyone who did not know her would have seen only another obedient initiate standing perfectly in line. Cas knew better. The matron stepped away, leaving them before the sealed doors while the final preparations were made inside. Silence settled heavily over the vestibule. Cas lowered her eyes to the golden thread along her cuff and concentrated on keeping her fingers still. Lys remained facing forward, her hands neatly folded and every part of her appearing as composed as the matrons expected. “Cas,” she whispered. Cas glanced toward her without turning her head completely. “Whatever happens in there,” Lys murmured, “we stay together.” “Obviously,” Eri answered quietly from Cas’s other side. The smallest smile touched Cas’s mouth, though her throat had tightened. “Promise?” Lys let her hand drift close enough that their fingers touched beneath the folds of their robes. “Promise.” Eri’s fingers found Cas’s other hand. “No matter what they call us.” The third bell sounded before Cas could answer, its clear note passing through the vestibule as the enormous doors began to part. Their hands separated immediately, and the three girls returned to perfect stillness before the opening grew wide enough for anyone inside to see them. The Sanctum of Light unfolded beyond the threshold. Its circular chamber rose beneath a vast mirrored dome, pale radiance filtering through stained glass and scattering across white stone in shades of violet, silver, and gold. Nyx watched from the upper arches in countless sacred forms, keeper of night, judge of balance, bearer of prophecy, while beneath those divine images sat the gathered hierarchy of Lumen. Priests, noble families, temple sponsors, and representatives of the four great houses filled the ceremonial tiers surrounding the chamber. At the center stood the sacred circle, carved from a single expanse of white stone and threaded with veins of silver. Ancient runes covered its surface, faintly luminous beneath the reflected light. Every initiate would enter that circle before leaving the Sanctum. Each would surrender the name of childhood, receive the identity Lumen claimed Nyx had chosen, and bear the Binding that would mark her place among them. Cas drew a quiet breath and stepped forward with the others, her head lowered as she had been taught. Behind them, the great doors closed with a deep reverberation that traveled through the floor beneath her bare feet, sealing the eight girls inside.