Erador plucked a petal from a sunflower. He mouthed fifteen and let it drop with the others scattered on the cobblestone below his dangling feet. Each time he counted, he hoped it would drown out the noises. His black clothing helped him blend into the shadows—how he preferred it. But the chattering and music still reached his ears. It didn’t help that Shade liked the music and swirled on the ground. The little light that reached his feet cast enough shadow for Shade to materialize. He didn’t understand how Shade interpreted sounds when he had no ears.

  White glowing crystals strung between the buildings over the dancing crowd. Only half the followers were here out of one hundred, so few compared to how many used to live here. Erador wished he stayed home.

  Erador focused on the sky to ignore his surroundings. Thousands of white dots sparkled in the sky. Anything he found mesmerizing as a child, Loma ruined by telling him the gods created it. These crystals were meant to watch over them, not like the moons that judged.

  The music brought him back. Sunflowers and ribbons circled the poles where fire swayed in unison with beating feet and claps. Giving up, Erador threw the sunflower and thumped his boot against the barrel. A red-headed woman wove through the bodies, her hips swaying to the upbeat instruments. Her charm bracelet jingled to the rhythm.

  She spun and plopped a glass of wine next to Erador. “Praise the gods that the Raven remains caged.”

  “Oh, shut up.” He swept up the drink and downed half.

  “Celebration is our way to guarantee he’s never free,” Aminria said with lightness.

  “That’s why he’s surrounded by thick walls and orbid. Killing him would end this nonsense.”

  Erador chugged the rest of his drink, For the sake of his stomach, he tried not to remember how his father told them this wine was supposed to resemble Sister Absolution’s blood. The blessed wine would absolve them of their sins; it was her role in the Ring of Awakening, but that ended when the Raven murdered her.

  He threw the glass down, breaking it. The occasional shatter punctuated the night. “Mind stomping on it for me?”

  Aminria smashed her boot on the glass and sang, “Drive the crystal into the ground. And keep him, keep him, keep him down.” Her rich vocals brought pleasure to his ears.

  Erador clapped. “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

  “I took lessons. Dancing too.” Aminria leaned against the barrel and sipped her drink. “But I had to give that up.”

  “Why?” Erador said, running his finger along the wood.

  “My aunt screwed my brother and I.” Aminria chucked the full glass down. “If I could get my hands on her, I’d split her in two.”

  She clenched her teeth, digging her heel into the glass. Dancers reflected in her silver eyes. They mirrored untold, pleasant memories of her past, but they faded to dull longing for what she once had. Erador couldn’t remember a time he saw her vulnerable. He shifted on the barrel, anticipating her to say more but was relieved when she masked her emotions with a stiff face.

  Her wide bell sleeves reached past her wrists, covering her blue jay mark. How could Aminria have become a Paradin as a dancer and singer? He was too young to recall. It’s not as if Erador was qualified to be one either.

  Aminria fidgeted with a loose string on her dark red vest as she cleared her throat. “We should perform a duet.”

  “Now? We haven’t practiced.” Erador shifted and tugged on his button-down shirt. “Plus... I don’t dance.”

  “You used to.”

  His square jaw clenched as he focused on a woman in the crowd. A butterfly accessory clipped up her auburn hair that was as curly as Aminria’s. Her ankle-length dress lifted as she twirled and clapped. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Oh.” Aminria playfully frowned. “Does it hurt seeing Miraline?”

  “Shut up,” Erador said, crossing his arms.

  “She was a nasty twat anyhow. She’s also jealous,” Aminria said, raising an eyebrow.

  Miraline stomped toward them. Erador cursed and grabbed Aminria’s arm, pulling her into the crowd. Dancers bumped him. Miraline stood on her toes, trying to peer above them, but she was too short to see.

  A line of dancers blocked his path. Erador ducked under their arms, and came to the stage. He squeezed beneath, ripping Aminria along. She stumbled into his lap. The curtain fell, blocking the light. Shadows shifted across the fabric, moving shoes were visible below. Instruments and laughter drowned out his panting, but he was afraid Miraline would hear.

  Brown ankle boots with familiar yellow laces stopped in front of the stage. Erador’s heart pounded faster each second Miraline remained. A beam dug into his back. His legs cramped and tingled from Aminria’s weight, but he stayed still. No amount of discomfort would lead him to confront Miraline. She stomped away. He released an anxiety ridden breath and laid his head against the beam.

  Muffled giggles escaped through Aminria’s hand.

  “What?” Erador whispered.

  “You’re terrified of her,” Aminria said.

  Miraline was once comforting but after their last interaction she felt like a monster. She was no longer understanding or willing to talk rationally. Erador didn’t want to admit that she had changed.

  “No. I’m avoiding her.”

  “Then why are you squeezing me?”

  “Couldn’t help myself,” he said, cracking a smile. “Your revenge plan against your aunt makes you so irresistible.”

  Aminria smacked his knee.

  Erador removed his clammy hands from her arms. He tried to find a place for them, and settled on behind his head. Her curls cascaded over her back. A strand irritated his nose and he blew it away, smelling Aminria’s sweet perfume.

  “Ackaberry?” he said.

  “Roseberries. Ackaberries are pungent.” Aminria collected her hair over her shoulder. “They’re good in sweets.”

  Erador laid his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve never had them that way.”

  Aminria nudged him off. “You eat them plain?” She shivered. “They’re bitter.”

  “What’s it matter? It’s food.”

  “Maybe you need to try better food.” Aminria dragged her hand on his leg and he tensed. “I could—”

  The fabric ripped up. He grabbed Aminria again, and his body seemed to sink into the ground.

  Miraline’s head popped under the stage. “There you are!”

  The cluster of freckles on her face outnumbered Aminria’s. Each one could have its own name, but Erador had one for Miraline—deranged. Erador would rather have dealt with lurkers than see her.

  Aminria crawled out and he followed, gripping the wooden stage as if to keep himself from running again. He had to end this; no matter how much his throat tightened at the idea. The quartet ended their upbeat song, slowing the melody.

  Contrived delight lingered on Miraline’s face as she looked at Aminria. “Aren’t you one of Judgment's Paradins? Not that it means anything now.” She snorted with laughter.

  Aminria swung around. Her eyes tightened, the silver color gleaming like a knife. “Watch your tongue.”

  “Or what? The old bag Judgment is going hurt me?”

  Aminria leaned over her. “I might.”

  Erador let go of the stage. “What do you want, Miraline?”

  “To see you silly.” Miraline ran her finger across his chest and he stiffened. “I was thinking—”

  “No.”

  Miraline blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no.”

  Miraline’s voice raised to a whiny pitch. “I thought you were going to talk to me.”

  “Didn’t you get the message?” Aminria clapped, Miraline looking at her. “He doesn’t want to. Why else would he have run?”

  “Let him answer.” Miraline blocked Aminria with her hand. “Erador?”

  Erador shivered at the idea, thinking that he once enjoyed seeing Miraline’s face—from her large eyes that were spotted with almost every imaginable color, to her small lifted nose, and her one cheek that dimpled when she smiled. She might have looked the same on the outside, but she was different now. He would give any reason to never see her again.

  “You want an answer here? Fine,” he said, throwing his arms up. “You’ve been difficult and angry at me. You’re not the same person I knew.”

  “I am.” Miraline flattened her lips. “If you spent more time with me rather than babysitting your father, you would know me better.”

  “I know that you’re not who you’ve pretended to be. You’ve become self-centered and can’t see why my father needs me.”

  “There are other’s who care for him.”

  “Look around, Miraline,” Erador said, pointing at the people. “So many want him dead. The closest is New Akthelia. He needs protection.”

  Miraline clicked her tongue. “What does it matter? Judgment’s going to die any way.”

  Shade twitched. Cold swelled in Erador’s chest. His fingers urged to hit the snotty look from Miraline’s face. Black liquid bled through his eyes, his hands balling.

  “Don’t say that again,” he said.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Miraline stood on her toes, chin up. Her head barely reached Erador’s shoulders. “If you try anything, they’ll know it was you.”

  He didn’t stop when Shade caught the crowd’s attention. Miraline swallowed hard and backed up a step. A dancer bumped her into Erador. She screamed and pushed away.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Erador smirked and Shade normalized. “Who would want to?”

  Miraline wiped her sunflower dress. “People who care about me. Unlike you.”

  “At least you realized that. We’re through.”

  He turned. Aminria leaned against the stage with an approving smile. Though he wanted to berate her for making him come, he wanted to thank her. He’d been avoiding Miraline for days. Now he was done.

  “You’re not worth it.” Miraline stomped her boots. “You’re… you’re a poisoner!”

  Her venomous voice carried above the crowd as music ended mid-song. The people quieted and craned their necks. Growling, Erador stopped.

  “That’s right,” Miraline said, pointing. “They know you control your poor sick father.”

  Erador swept around. “If I were you, I’d shut your mouth.”

  “Not until you admit it. Poisoner.”

  The crowd gasped.

  Aminria moved rigid from the stage. “Take it back.”

  “They believe it anyhow.” Miraline crossed her arms. Her gaze flicked through the crowd and settled on Erador.

  Erador looked at the questioning faces. His stomach churned as some people nodded. Others didn't have to admit anything; the same thoughts ran through their eyes.

  “It’s not true.” Aminria nudged him. “Tell her.”

  “It’s not worth it,” he said. “They’re going to believe it, whatever I say. You can continue to concoct lies, Miraline, but you’ll only lose more friends.”

  “Oh, please.” Miraline rolled her eyes. “People would love my company.”

  Erador leaned toward her. “I would rather sit with the Raven himself than be in your presence.”

  People whistled and hollered. Miraline’s rosy cheeks darkened to the color of ackaberries. “You… You took advantage of me.”

  “I took advantage of you?” Erador said, pressing his fingers to his chest. “We hadn’t been together a few days and you were declaring to be a Lucasta.” His shoulders rolled back as Shade expanded across the stage. “If anyone wants to benefit, it’s you.”

  Miraline’s lip trembled, water pooling in her eyes. Head down, she shoved through the mocking crowd. Some patted Erador’s back, others flashing approving smiles, but he didn’t feel proud. Each action escalated his annoyance and made him wish he wasn’t here.

  Aminria smirked. “You broke her little heart.”

  “It should be pieces by now,” Erador said. “As much as she cries.”

  “If I kissed you, would it have killed her?”

  “It would’ve done that to me, and I would’ve thanked you.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Aminria folded her arms. “I should have left you in that manor to rot.”

  “Better than bringing me here.” Erador gestured toward the crowd that returned to the festivities. “Look at them.” Some people watched him with suspicion. “This is why I didn’t want to come.”

  “Too much attention?”

  “More like too much hate.” The chipper music grated his nerves, further ruining his mood. “You’ve heard them.”

  “The rumors?” Aminria grabbed his arm and squeezed. Her eyes flitted up to him but it didn't feel like comfort. “I don’t think they’re true.”

  Erador pulled away and leaned his elbows on stage, hands running through his neck-length black hair. “I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s dead.”

  She hoisted herself onto the stage, legs dangling in brown tights. “You could replace him.”

  “They would kill me.” He banged his fist.

  He wished there was some way to save his father, so he could make all these problems go away like he used to. Erador wasn’t sure he could handle the uncertain future. He wasn’t sure he was capable of leaving this cult.

  The musicians left. Torch light swayed across the dark backdrop. An assistant grabbed sunflowers from a basket and tossed them across the stage. Loma stomped up the stairs and gave a high-pitched whistle to quiet the crowd. Her over-sized cloak dragged on the wood. She pulled on the hood, resting it near her sliver wavy bangs.

  The crowd gravitated to the stage, signaling Erador’s time to leave. He tried to slip between the people, but he couldn’t get through. They forced him back toward the front.

  “Come on!” Erador said, lifting his arms. “It’s the same every year. You’re here for sweets.”

  “Ah, but it’s more than that,” Loma said, shaking a finger. “This festival is a reminder to do good, to be good. These,” she said, with two claps, “are an incentive.”

  The crowd cheered as assistants set buckets of wrapped candy on stage. It was like watching children, but he couldn’t remember the last time a child lived in Lucrethia.

  Aminria hooked her arm in Erador’s. “Don’t pout. I know green are your favorite. Maybe I can snatch a few,” she said, winking.

  Erador let out a long sigh. “I can’t help myself when in the presence of sweets. Might have Shade steal a whole bucket.”

  “That would make this more fun, you know.”

  “Let’s not give them any more reasons to want to kill me.”

  Loma raised her arms. Shadows danced across her wrinkles. The backdrop curtains lifted, exposing a cloth painting of a baby. Erador watched her without interest, unsure of how he found her shows entertaining as a child.

  “As a reminder this is merely a tale, and not to be practiced.” Loma took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her heart. “It’s a sin to worship Senith gods.”

  No matter how well she hid it from others, Erador caught Loma’s trembling lips when Seniths were called fictional or sinful. His father didn’t allow gods to be worshiped.

  Her facial expressions were dramatic, and her eerie voice carried through the square. Guilt twisted Erador’s gut. It was more than entertainment, it hid the pain for what she believed in.

  Loma cleared her throat and brushed her hands down her cloak. “Long ago the Raven was innocent, a baby who was raised in this land, and walked places you stand. Anyone would think him harmless, for he didn’t appear evil. Not even when he changed form. He was handsome, charming some say. But those who can hide their true nature are the most dangerous.”

  Loma snapped. Another painting dropped of a face with unmatching halves. “Shifting is an unbalanced element, not welcome among the Senith gods. Like us, each god has an element. Sirith had regeneration but it was like a mask to hide his other element, shifting. The Raven’s wrath upon us was the same as what Sirith had done to his kingdom.”

  Another curtain dropped with a painting of the gods’ kingdom atop the mountain. Flames were scattered throughout the buildings.

  “Sirith’s tale began with jealousy for his brother Artorian, the light god who was loved and favored by all, like Judgment is to you. The Raven was overlooked by many. Inside,” Loma said, pressing a fist to her chest. “Sirith was burning with anger.” The torch flames flashed, doubling in size. Loma’s eyes seemed to bulge from her head, reminding Erador of those nights she used to tell him the Senith tales. “Sirith turned everyone against Artorian by stealing his identity and committing heinous acts to frame him.”

  Some people shielded their eyes at the next curtain. Stab wounds mutilated a person’s body. An assistant slapped red paint across the curtain with a brush.

  Erador cringed. “That’s a bit much.”

  “See,” Aminria’s breath brushed his ear. “They changed the presentation.”

  “Ah, you should be scared,” Loma said, nodding. Her long teeth showing. “In the end, Sirith got the attention he desired but it didn’t last. He became careless with shifting. He abused it for personal gain, and this led to the discovery of his element. For his bad deeds, the gods locked him in the depths of our world.

  “The Raven suffered a similar fate, but not before he terrorized us. Sirith’s tale had come true. He deceived us, turned us on each other. Everyone feared the closest to them could be the Raven.” Loma grabbed a handful of sweets and tossed them into the crowd. “He could’ve been you!” She threw another handful. “Or you.” Her point landed on Erador. “Or you.”

  He grimaced and shifted his gaze away. People scrambled to pick up sweets.

  “It took fifty years to track him down. He stole Lord Judgment’s identity and caused havoc in Haria. Our allies abandoned us. Our Lord’s reputation was ruined—”

  “Hand over the candy already!” someone shouted.

  Everyone swung their heads toward a woman in the crowd. She kept her unrelenting gaze on Loma. Glasses sat over her half-moon eyes and her black hair was pinned into a ponytail.

  “Those who don’t wait patiently don’t deserve treats,” Loma snapped.

  The woman folded her arms. “Anyone can recite the tale.”

  “Then why don’t you finish and I’ll give you a bucket full, since you know so much.”

  The woman’s purple-painted lips lifted into a smile. “No problem.”

  The crowd craned their necks as she moved through them and up the stage.

  “Now we have to wait longer,” Erador said, leaning toward Aminria

  “You wanted something new.” Aminria nudged him. “Could be interesting.”

  The woman took Loma’s place on stage. A black blouse was tucked into her flowing skirt. The lace hem ended at her knees, giving way to her purple stockings, and ankle boots. It was unseen in Lucrethia for woman to wear skirts that showed more than the ankles. But it wasn’t what caught Erador’s eye. Her golden flower brooch had a green flickering flame inside of it.

  “As you know, the Raven is immortal. That’s why he was locked in a cage, surrounded by orbid, and never set free again.” The woman cupped her hands and looked back at Loma. “Done.”

  Loma’s eyes narrowed. “You lost your bucket.”

  The woman pouted. “I can make it better, if you want?”

  “I think you’ve done enou—”

  The woman made a stitching motion in the air. Grunting, Loma clawed her lips that she couldn’t open. Cheers erupted in the crowd, but Erador shivered.

  The woman clapped with enthusiasm. “How many of you believe the Raven will remain in his cage?”

  Most of the crowd raised their hands.

  “And who made you believe that?” she said, as if she were speaking to children.

  “Lord Judgment,” the crowd said with praise.

  The woman cupped her hands behind her back and walked across the stage. “It must be comforting to have an honest Lord.” Her gaze lingered on Erador and moved back to the crowd; he swore they appeared brighter and bluer. “To think you’ll always be safe from the Raven. How long do you think that’ll last?”

  She waited, but no one answered. People no longer focused on the sweets, or had bored stares. They gave their full attention to the woman. Though Erador wasn’t afraid of the tale, the tense atmosphere tingled his skin.

  “You have no idea?” The woman pushed up her glasses. “Well, I have news for you.” Her gaze swept through the crowd as she slipped her closed hand from her pocket and brought it to her nose briefly. “One day you might wake and discover the person you knew wasn’t who you thought they were. Then you’ll realize why you never should’ve relied on anything to keep the Raven caged.”

  Flames extinguished and black consumed the square, only lit by the dim crystals. Screams erupted. Erador’s vision adjusted as bodies scrambled. He focused on the woman who backed toward the curtains. People banged into him—he lost her. Erador clung to the stage. Some people snatched fistfuls of candy from the buckets, the rest fled the square. When silence hit, flames lit again.

  Decorations were scattered, sunflowers smashed into the dirt, and glass littered the empty grounds.

  Aminria climbed on stage and picked up a scattered piece of candy. “We should do this every year.” She unwrapped it and put it in her mouth.

  “That woman,” Erador’s eyes were unfocused. “It was strange how she used her telekinesis. My father never does that to silence someone.”

  “Did Loma decide to do something different this year?”

  “Maybe,” Erador said, scratching his nose. But he couldn’t shake off what that woman had done.

  A candy smacked his cheek. He fumbled for it and caught it.

  Aminria pointed. “Read your deed.”

  Erador unwrapped the sweet. The round candy was purple; his least favorite. He read the paper. “Don’t allow your feelings to cloud your judgment or fate will destroy you.” His mouth parted as he scanned the words again. “Shouldn’t it be a good deed and not advice?”

  Aminria shrugged and sat on the edge of the stage. “Maybe it’s a sign for you to part from someone.”

  “Like you?”

  Aminria narrowed her eyes. “Funny.” She swiped the wrapper from him, her charm bracelet jingling on her wrist. “I’m keeping this... in case you're wrong.”

  Erador moved closer to her and pressed his hand into the wood on either side of her legs. She leaned back as muscles contracted in her neck. He lifted his chin. “I’m never wrong about anyone.” Erador picked a candy with red paper from the stage and rolled it in his palm. He pocketed it as his gaze flicked to the wrapper in Aminria’s stiff hand. “That deed belongs to you.”