The question ripped the air from Aspen's throat.
What is the true name of the Omen you are linked to? You must answer this indirectly.
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
The spirits pressed closer. She could hear their attention like static, a buzz ringing on her tongue. Waiting.
She knew the answer.
North.
But she couldn't say it. Not directly? What exactly does he mean? Are the commonfolk really going to know?
No, if he's acting like this, then they will in some way. And given names are so important here, there will be… Chaos.
Oh.
I'm carrying a live bomb.
And he planned around this, I see. He got the spirits' attention, ironically, so he could force me into having to spill this bomb indirectly.
So was everything planned? Sweat slipped down her back. The breadcrumbs and threats and bluffs?
Oh shit, that's why he laughed so hard then. He knew.
She'd walked right into it. Smiled while doing it. Nearly giggled.
Her stomach dropped through the floor. Then her wings, trembling things.
I'm fucked. How do I answer indirectly?
No, think. I could say sugar-scented man. Or the wingless ascended? Wait no, I have to describe his name indirectly.
She could spell it. N-O-R-T-H. But that's still saying it. Just slower.
She could—
The pressure doubled. The spirits weren't patient. Her throat closed. Her hands started shaking.
I fucked up.
I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up.
All that cleverness. And I walked right into his trap. Is that why he complimented me at times?
To let my guard down? Why did I think I could negotiate with him?
Her mother's voice whispered through her skull: What's wrong with you? I know you can do this.
But she couldn't. She couldn't do this. Her vision blurred. Tears welled hot and fast. I thought I told myself I wouldn't cry.
Hierophant watched her, his expression unbothered. He tapped a long, porcelain finger against his own lips.
"The Spirits listen for the frequency of a True Name. An under-name. That is the bell you must not ring."
The frequency?
He leaned in, his green eyes glinting.
"But the Oath only demands the vague truth of the identity, not the sound of that frequency. Deconstruct the word. Do not give me its definition, but a hint of it. If its name were 'Hierophant,' you would say 'The Eye.' or..."
He gestured to his own eye.
You…
It wasn't cruel, wasn't mocking. Just waiting. For her to break. Or answer.
Same thing, really.
"So do not speak the Name. Speak where the Name points." He finished.
The threads pulsed. Every triangle in the room leaned in.
I'm really just a plaything.
His plaything. Lyra's plaything. Her plaything.
Perform the right script. The right emotions. Wear the right face. Give the right answer.
And when you can't…
Her shoulders shook. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
I can't.
I can'tIcan'tIcan't—I can't do this anymore.
Why does everyone always want me to match… hold on.
Something clicked. A thought. Oh my god, this is so stupid.
North.
The name, but also…
North.
The direction. Her breath caught. The edges of her lips pulled to the ceiling.
So did her eyes. At the apex of the room where the wood spiraled into a point above.
North is up. It's up. A cardinal direction.
So I could just—
A giggle vibrated at the base of her throat.
Indirect. Non-verbal. But accurate.
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. Then the rest of it hit her.
Holy shit I can do that!
The laugh bubbled in fragments, glass fragments. She laughed like she was coughing up glass. Wet and broken and a little hysterical.
Fuck you, Hierophant.
Fuck you, spirits.
And fuck all of this.
She'd give them what they wanted.
Aspen wiped her face with her sleeve. The tears didn't stop, but she could bear to wonder if they were tears of joy.
Or insanity.
She looked Hierophant in the eye.
And raised her hand.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Sinfully.
Her middle finger came in increments, like sand clumping up to a mountain, extending to the heavens.
The spirits screamed.
✦ ✦ ✦
Meren was currently in a high-stakes negotiation regarding who would get the honor of catching the Maris.
She and her older Cougha hovered just below a clump of moss beneath their Memma's terrace—the prime hunting ground where the Maris liked to gather and play.
She frowned. "You should let me get them. I'm the fastest flier."
Her Cougha, Lori, rolled her eyes and patted Meren's head a little too hard. "You're tiny, and slower than Hasp. Are you husked?"
Meren crossed her arms so tight she looked like a little knot. "You can't say that! Bad word! I'm gonna tell Memma!"
"Go ahead," Lori said, inspecting her blue-veined fingernails. "But if you tell her, I'm gonna eat every single dreamcake Memma Quinn makes for you."
Meren's eyes went wide, absolute horror. She shrank back in the air. "NO!!! PLEASE!"
Lori smiled, chin pointed up. "Let me get the Maris then, and don't tell Memma."
"...Okay." Meren's face scrunched up, her bottom lip jutting out. Puffy-cheeked tragedy.
Lori giggled to herself and Meren's cheeks grew hotter.
Then the Maris froze.
Something pulled at Meren's chest.
Not painful. Not frightening.
Just… important.
Look up.
She didn't choose to. Her neck just tilted back. Her eyes found the bottom of the terrace and she floated back to see what was above.
She wasn't alone.
Lori joined her.
Heads tilting. Eyes lifting.
Up.
Up.
Up.
The word didn't have sound, but she felt it in her sternum, in her spin, in the base of her skull.
Something happened.
Something vital.
But there was nothing above her.
Just the ceiling. Just wood.
Wings stilling.
And for some reason, the ceiling was getting farther away.
She could see Lori's feet.
The wind was whirling.
✦
In the guard hollow, Terris marked his forehead with a drop of his blood. He shaped it into a triangle.
The mantra left his lips. "You are a Hasp, you are Hinter's brace. The council walks atop your head, so adorn it with the divine."
Around him, six other Hasps did the same. Synchronized. Instant.
"We are Hasps. We have been blessed. We are proud."
They stared at the hollow's peak for three heartbeats.
It stared back.
The room was silent.
They let their heads drop.
Then the air changed.
Up.
The marks on their foreheads began to glow.
"Nobody move." Someone said, it didn't matter who. They were Hasps.
They stared at the hollow's peak for three heartbeats.
It stared back.
The room was silent.
Their heads did not drop.
✦
In the lower reaches of the tree, Kessa sang her daughter a lullaby.
The lullaby died mid-note.
The daughter's eyes—half-closed, drowsy—snapped open.
Both of them looked up.
Mother and child. Frozen. Compelled.
The baby didn't cry.
It knew.
And so they stared.
When the pressure lifted, Kessa pulled her daughter close, wings wrapping around them both.
"Shh. Shh, stay woven. Fray not. The spirits are knotting... watching something." She spoke as if those would be her last words.
In all twenty-six times she'd molted, she'd never felt so one with the world.
Her wings wouldn't stop trembling.
One with the world.
✦
Across Hinter—in homes, in markets, in guard posts, in the food halls, in the council chambers, in the lower reaches and the crown—hundreds of moth-people looked up.
Young and old fell, not many, because it was not time for play.
Simultaneously.
Without choice.
Without understanding.
One such member, the Fool, kneeled before a massive, spiraling construct.
A colossal, calcified corkscrew that didn't just rise toward the ceiling, but drilled into it.
Ir silent.
One of six dark needles pinned through Hinter's place in the god-tree's rotten core.
But I had many thoughts.
Six natural impossibilities, trees shouldn't have bones. Yet here they stood. Vibrating with a frequency that felt less like sound and more like the pressure of a secret waiting to be told.
Many, many thoughts.
The Six Towers of Revelation. And one of them told him something. Just a whisper.
So now, Ir having many, many, many thoughts.
He looked up.
Ir going to die soon, Fool.
The importance. The command.
So look up, bear witness.
And though he saw nothing behind his blindfold, he knew it.
The New Radiance.
Someone had done something.
The spirits have spoken.
And Hinter listened.
The Towers shifted up, just an inch.
But even if he knew, he did not understand.
So comes Fractured Beginnings.
✦ ✦ ✦
Aspen lowered her hand.
Her middle finger was still extended. Tears were still wet on her cheeks.
But she was smiling.
Hierophant stared at her. His cracked-porcelain face was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes.
Is he angry?
No. That's not what his eyes are telling me.
Maybe it was just recognition.
I've satisfied the oath. I can feel it.
She'd given him what he wanted.
I did it my way.
The spirits settled. The pressure eased. The threads dimmed back to their usual hum.
The room returned to normal.
Aspen wiped her face again. Her hand was still shaking, but less now.
"So, are you happy now?"
Then came the screams.
Many screams.
Many, many screams.