The moon's surface wasn't cratered gray but spiraled. Like a fingerprint, rippling. And it whispered.
Not in a way she could hear, but in a way she could feel. Its very existence echoed one single name.
Nodin.
T-The moon.
The name didn't just echo in her ears; it struck her spine like a hammer, vibrating her central nervous system until she felt her own marrow rattle.
It's talking.
Her lips twisted into a smile despite herself, she brought a hand to her cheek. Holy fuck, it actually talks.
And then it shut up.
Or maybe, it didn't find her worth speaking further with.
Nothing in this world makes any sense. Nothing in this world makes any sense. Nothing in this world makes any sense.
Don't sniff that name. Don't think about that name.
Just live.
Just live.
Just—
Something coughed to her left.
Her head turned slowly to a man kneeling there. No wings, pure human. Just a few meters away from her.
Who...? Is that the omen? No, he looks different. This man was older, far older. With light brown hair and an unkept beard. Who is this? Wait, I can smell names, what am I doing?
She focused on him and sniffed. Such a weird sensation. He smelled like sugar.
Sugar? That's the same smell as…
His name appeared in her mind.
North.
It was as simple as that.
He… he has to be the Omen. The burnt sugar smell brought me here, and he has the same sugar scent… but why does he look different here?
North offered no answer. His free hand reached into his pocket and withdrew something small and sharp. A wooden carving.
It was delicate. Impossibly thin. A needle shaped into… what? A hand? Four equal points shot out from a center stick. More leaf than hand.
Then he kissed it, and the carving froze. Icicles spread to each end. He whispered.
"Begin in belief."
He clenched the carving with his fist, ice biting into his flesh. Blood welled and dripped into the petals below. They drank it eagerly.
Aspen's stomach turned. Why? His lips spurred softly. His voice was quiet. Reverent. Broken.
"I offer this to the Great Will. I have blessed it in her name, Olivia. My pride, I have killed it."
Great Will? Something beyond the spirits? And Olivia. This confirms it. That's the same name. Is that his lover? Wife?
He hesitated. "All is impermanent before the Great Will. I give back to you. I ask to be blessed. I wish to be known."
The ice carving began to unravel.
Not melt. Unravel.
The crystalline structure broke apart into fragments that drifted upward like silk caught in a breeze. They dissolved into the night sky, feeding the whispering moon.
Or the void above. Feeding something.
And then, his sugar smell exploded.
It bloomed from his skin in waves so thick Aspen could taste the granules on her tongue. Pure. Concentrated. Like his entire body had become a furnace of caramelized pain.
His lips quivered as he stared into the sky. His eyes were wide and hungry, drinking in something Aspen couldn't see.
He'd gotten stronger.
The knowledge hit her gut-deep. Intuitive. That's what it takes? Bleeding and sacrificing something you love?
He'd become more… concentrated. Like all his grief had been distilled into pure essence. A little part of her found his expression ironic.
But that's ascension. He ascended. That has to be it.
Sacrifice something. Offer it to the world—to the spirits, or whatever was watching. Get stronger.
She recalled how the spirits tried to name her.
God, no wonder he looks so hurt—
✦
—and then she was gasping on the floor of her room.
Her hands slapped against cold wood. Her knees had given out—when? Her lungs burned. The phantom taste of burnt sugar clung to the back of her throat like ash.
She forced herself to breathe. To think.
Okay. Okay.
I saw the Omen, who is named North, he ascended there. Right in that field. So there's a flower field outside this tree? Wait no, that doesn't make sense. This tree is massive.
Where are we actually? And the spirits—or Great Will—they made him stronger in exchange for his pain? Is that how ascension works?
What exactly do you have to sacrifice? Was that some charm for his lover?
She looked down at her aqua-veined hands. At the wings she couldn't control.
What am I even supposed to sacrifice? And what a fucked world for making us have to sacrifice shit.
I didn't even want to be brought here. And I'm so tired but now I have to think and track shit.
Why did I try to smell the Omen?
Her chest tightened. The binding between her and North pulsed, she could feel it now. Like cold roots threading through her ribs. Wrapped around her spine.
Growing stronger.
While she was growing weaker.
Her hands clenched. If he gets stronger, does that mean I get dragged closer? Or do I get stronger? The threads were supposed to slow him, but if I'm getting visions this clear, then it's not enough.
Was I shown a scene of the past or is he out ascending somewhere else?
Damn, either way, I need to get stronger myself. These spirits are actua—
A sound at the open curtain-way made her head snap up.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Not Raine's light step or Quinn's achy tread.
Someone else. She couldn't smell anything. Damn these threads.
She forced herself upright, ignoring the way her legs shook. Her wings twitched against her back.
The footsteps stopped. A shadow fell across the floor from the curtain-way, tall and gaunt.
Then he stepped through.
Hierophant.
His cracked-porcelain face was unreadable. His green eyes swept the room once—taking in Aspen's position on the floor, her labored breathing, the way her hands trembled—before settling on her face.
When he spoke, his voice carried the resonance of the ages. It made her bones ache.
"A smell that's getting past Anais, interesting. You've been experimenting."
It wasn't a question. Anais? Is that what they call the threads? Is my scent strong enough to get past?
No, that doesn't make sense. I can't even smell Hierophant's, mine can't be stronger than his.
But then how?
Aspen's jaw clenched. "Did Raine tell you what happened?"
He didn't respond. But something flickered in his eyes. Interest. Or maybe concern.
Tsk. Guess she did. Aspen stared into his eyes. "Do you know what I just saw?"
He squinted. "I will know soon, no?"
Aspen's eyes widened. Was that a threat? No no no, don't just let him win.
This is why I need to learn. I could have some leverage.
Think. He probably won't do the mind-read thing again, especially after how he seemed hurt by it before.
Hopefully.
I just need to ask the right questions. Right? I have information they need. These people aren't necessarily outright hostile.
Yeah, focus. Be strong. Maybe… I could even get him to teach me a bit of that ascension thing.
"I... I have a question for you."
So it started.
The fissures in his cheeks didn't bend, but one eyebrow arched. It was high and deliberate, as if a chess piece had just asked the player for the rules.
"A question," he repeated, testing the word. "Ask."
"What exactly is ascension?"
Hierophant's eyes narrowed. "So you ascended."
Aspen bit her lip. So he thinks my smell is a result of ascension. Wait, so Raine didn't tell him everything?
Wait, I'm dumb. He didn't even know about my smell. Then Raine either told him nothing or he didn't see her at all.
If he didn't see her then… did the Spirit of Grace tell him ahead of time like in High Priestess's home? Must not have told him the full thing.
That's good.
"No, I didn't. I will tell you what happened, and you won't have to do anything to me. But I want some information myself."
Hierophant took a step forward. "What's the point? I have many ways to scour your mind."
Does he really? "Why waste the energy though? And you looked hurt last time you tried."
He froze and stared into her eyes. Aspen continued. "Also, what I'm asking for helps both of us. Won't you need me for t-the ritual? Isn't it better if I'm stronger for that?"
Hierophant stroked his chin. "Bold and unexpectedly… intact. But if you are ignorant of ascension, then your scent must stem from… hm. Was it your link to the Omen? But then again, the spirits must have treated you as a Namelost."
Shit, I need to stop him. "They did treat me as Namelost." He ignored my request, but he's also not denying what I said. I'm probably right, so what is this?
Was he bluffing originally? No, he had to be. And then… so is all of this a way to scare me?
He tapped his foot against the floor and stared into the ceiling. "Do you realize that you are implying that you, who's just received a name from the spirits, has a name more important than mine?"
That… does sound kind of crazy. "Um—"
"There is much more to this." His emerald eyes shot down to Aspen. "Let me make this clear, if you do not have a sufficient answer to my questions, then I will scour your mind. I am not High Priestess, who would fracture to achieve a fraction of what I can."
Shit! What am I supposed to do?! Aspen inched closer to the basin, anywhere that was away from him. She didn't speak. Tears pressed into her eyelids but she stared into his eyes.
He exhaled, satisfied. "First, the vision. What did you see, and how?"
Aspen kept staring, and in the end, just sighed. "You know what, just read it."
He raised a brow. "What?"
"I don't care anymore. Read my mind and I hope you choke on whatever you find." That doesn't even make sense.
Hierophant didn't move. He stared at her for what felt like minutes, calculating something. He glanced at his hand, the one that seemed injured from his attempt prior. There were no scars on it, just the idea of injury. "So you are good at putting up an intelligent front. I nearly fell for it."
Aspen glared at him. Silent.
He spoke again. "You were right. Directly reading minds taxes me, much more when the mind in question is connected to something… strange. I agree to the terms you set, put that mind of yours back to use."
Condescending bitch. But… damn, this works. Aspen spoke low. "Then you go first. What has to be sacrificed during ascension?"
Hierophant frowned. "How did you learn there had to be a sacrifice?"
"I saw it. Now tell me."
"You must have seen someone ascend by the Leal current to think of sacrifice. Now what stage would it have been…?"
Leal current? Why is he whispering? And he must be implying that there's multiple paths to ascension? "Speak clearly."
"Hush, you wet-wing." His tone carried no hint of annoyance. Are you mad or not? "Regardless, as you likely saw a first stage ritual, you create an object in accordance to your title and return it to the spirits. The commonfolk are unable to do this. The spirits will reward you accordingly."
Hierophant glanced at the triangles the threads created. Why is he looking at those? Does he have to tell the truth here because of the spirits? Or maybe he's trying to misdirect me?
Wait, why did he even bring up the commonfolk? They were irrelevant. Or am I reading too deep into this? I mean, he and High Priestess are the only ones who showed any powers.
Whatever, the ascension thing is exactly what that North guy did. That's how to ascend, at least by the first stage. But he mentioned the Greater Will rather than spirits. He was also somewhere outside this tree. I mean he doesn't even have moth wings or anything.
So why? Is what they call the spirits a cultural difference? Or is there something beyond the spirits?
Hierophant cut her thoughts off. "Now, tell me what you saw. Remember to refer to the Omen as it."
Obviously. Aspen took a deep breath, balancing herself up on the basin. "I saw the Omen again, but it wasn't in this tree. It was somewhere outside and it did that ascension ritual thing."
Hierophant tapped against the floor again, faster. He didn't speak, completely lost in thought.
Aspen glanced at the open curtain-way. "Are you sure we should talk about this without a curtain?"
"We must slow your link with the Omen as much as we can, this is negligible."
Well, it still seems to be getting stronger. "Another thing is it looked different. Older, different hair color. And I don't know if I mentioned this before but it had no wings."
His brows furrowed, what felt like a first. "Then—"
Aspen cut him off. "Now you tell me, how do I create an object in my essence?"
He tapped once against the floor. She was beginning to hate the sound. "We were already planning on telling you this later."
"Okay, just tell me now."
He hesitated.
Why is he hesi—wait.
So he won't tell me specifically how to create an object with my essence. And even before, he was so against directly answering my ascension question until I just gave up.
And then when he does tell me, he clarifies that the commonfolk were unable to do this. And he glanced at the triangles.
I've got it.
This must be what they were talking about earlier with calling the Omen a man. Something about talking about ascension specifically, for the spirits or commonfolk to know, is bad.
It can't be the spirits, since I mean ascension seems to be them giving you power. So it's the commonfolk.
Aspen couldn't hold back the smile that spread to her lips. She nearly giggled. "What are you hiding from them?"
For the first time, Hierophant's jaw dropped. "Them?"
"You know who I'm talking about. Why are you hiding it? I'll shout out secrets about the Omen and what you could be hiding if you don't tell me." Oh shit, then with the previous info about ascension, how much was he keeping vague?
Hierophant frowned, a real frown. "Even if you did, it would be your loss. Do you want chaos to spread?"
"I want some freedom." And you're all just weird moth people. "But if you can't tell me that now then… I want you to shout to the spirits that you and nobody else will try to hurt me. No mind-reading, nothing. You have to put it on your name." That has to do it.
Hierophant smiled.
And he laughed. He laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. The sound grated Aspen's ears. W-Why is he laughing?
"Okay then." His voice dropped back down to its usual, somber steel. "But I cannot make promises for others. Only myself."
Aspen nearly wanted to spit on him. "Then you could just ask someone else to attack me."
"Then I will also make an oath for that." Something in Hierophant's eyes changed. His posture shifted, losing its predatory height for something sweeping. Theatrical. His arms expanded into the grandiose stance of a lead actor stepping into the limelight, addressing a vast, invisible gallery.
"By my name, as Hierophant, and as the second most well-known within the council, I swear that I will take no action to harm you. I will not, by any means, attempt to forcibly scour your mind, nor will I request for anyone's assistance in harming you. This lasts for six days."
"Oh. Grea—"
"But only if you too make an oath, on your new name, and title as Hermit, to offer one true answer. Lies are forbidden. This deal will be named the New Radiance. Swear it before the Spirit of Grace."
"W-What ques—"
"Swear it before the Spirit of Grace."
The air got heavier. The threads hummed and shone brighter. Those triangles seemed to lean in, surrounding Aspen. Watching her.
The air was expecting her words. She knew that once she spoke them, they would no longer be hers.
She nearly wanted to cry.
But there was no time to think. For half a second, she caught a glimpse of the mirror that tried to deny her.
The mirror that told her that she would be forgotten.
She wouldn't have that, and she was used to performing for an audience. "I swear it before the Spirit of Grace. On my… title as Hermit, and my name, Aspen."
Gravity buckled, doubling down in force until the floor itself groaned in protest beneath her feet. She could drink the air like mud. Every shadow, every thread, every molecule in the room solidified into a heavy, unblinking eye.
For a moment, she was at the bottom of the ocean.
For a moment, the man before her had the answers.
He was the key. The abyss. Grace.
To unlock his door, she had to answer one question.
"What is the true name of the Omen you are linked to? You must answer this indirectly."