MIRIAM
One week later, the summons came.
I walked the long corridor to the Grand Hall as though I were already a ghost. The temple felt colder than ever; even the usual soft chants seemed to hush when I passed. My hands shook so badly I had to clasp them behind my back.
Seven priestesses waited on the raised stone dais. Mother Liora sat in the center. Her face seemed as if it were carved from marble. Three months ago, these same women had wept with joy when the Silver Mark was revealed on my shoulder, and I was named the next High Priestess. Today, their eyes held only contempt.
Priestess Tania, sharpest tongue on the Council, spoke first. “Miriam. Step forward and kneel.”
I obeyed. My knees hit the red circle painted on the floor for judgment. The stone was ice against my skin.
“You
