Chosen

by Jesi Mullins

bacteria, bitterness, bronze, company, coincidence, tongue

“As above, so below.”

Caro closed her eyes tighter as she open her mouth to receive the offering. Though blindfolded, she could practically see the bronze chalice tipping forward, reaching for her tongue. The liquid within spilled down, rushing through her teeth and collecting in her cheeks. At once tasting of copper and cinnamon, the concoction brought tears to her eyes. Don’t swallow, don’t swallow, she chanted to herself.

The murmured chants around her began to swell. Next to her she heard a gurgle and sudden harsh coughing. One down, she thought, forcing herself to imagine she was back home, playing the Mermaid Game with her sister in the bathtub. Whoever holds her breath longest is Queen Mermaid. It’s the same thing. She always lost. This time she would win.

Coughing again, this time behind her. How many left in her ragtag company of dedicants, she couldn’t tell. Amidst the chants, the heady fog of incense, the bitterness on her tongue, and the overwhelming darkness, the only thing left was to focus. Roots are growing from my knees, anchoring me to the ground, she reminded herself. There is a string connecting me to the moon. I do not swallow. I am a vessel. I hold and transform. As above, so below.

She could feel her hips beginning to shake. How long have I been here? She wished she wasn’t wearing this ridiculous gown. If she’d had her trousers she could have gotten herself in a better position when she first knelt down. But once you were in position, you were stuck there until the end of the ritual, whenever that was. What a coincidence, she thought, wryly. Here I am to beg someone to do just that. Stick her in a life, one from which she would never budge...until they decided otherwise.

She heard hacking and suddenly her bare legs were sprayed with liquid. It took everything she had not to jerk her body away. Great. Can’t wait to contract whatever disease that was carrying. The Chosen had walked them all through the moist and overgrown wilderness without the benefit of their boots. “It’s important to feel the punishment it takes to brave the journey to your true selves.” Idiots. Caro could practically feel the bacteria nestling into the cuts along her feet.

The chants were reaching a point of frenzy. The voices were beginning to distort, becoming animalistic shrieks. She heard weeping, felt the tears soaking through her blindfold and, for a moment, wondered if the cries were hers. I’m not going to make it, she thought in panic. I can’t hold it.

There were two options when you pledged yourself to the Sept. You are Chosen or you die. To be Chosen, you had to complete the ritual, holding the poison in your mouth until the spellwork converted it within you to a harmless substance. To die, it was much simpler: swallow it before and die from the effects, or spit it out and be executed. Caro had vowed to herself she would never die as a coward. She would swallow it and take her own life before someone else could. Somehow that felt a lot braver before.

For a moment she thought the ground was shaking and then realized it was her own heart. Her shoulders began to tense and she could hear her ridiculous mother’s sister telling her not to stoop like one of those hideous common people. Get out of my head, you old bat. Her tongue began to convulse, as though a wave was trying to force the metallic liquid out. No no no no. She tensed her jaw, the muscles screaming. Her neck was made of stone.

There was a single unified cry of exultation and she felt a great wind flow inexplicably from the ground in a column to the sky above.

Silence.

She swallowed and tasted nothing but cool, sweet spring water. Hands were on her then, holding her shoulders, untying the blindfold. Mouths kissed her tears, her palms, her sweat-soaked forehead.

She opened her eyes and saw nothing but the radiance of the moon in the lake before her.

“Welcome.”