Chapter 2

The Starlight River Festival was a few days later. Michael organized it. Hand-carved wooden lanterns, hundreds of them, set to float down the Starlight River. He told me, with a soft look in his eyes, "Ellie, this is for you. For us."

A lie. I had overheard him telling his friends it was a grand gesture for Victoria. She loved such displays, he' d said.

I stood by the riverbank, the air cool, the water dark. The Starlight River was known for its unsettling chill and the minor water sprites that dwelled within its depths, like lonely, mischievous ghosts. The lanterns glowed, beautiful and false.

Suddenly, a hard shove from behind. I cried out, stumbling, then falling into the icy water. The cold bit deep, instantly. The water sprites, usually just faint whispers of energy, felt sharp, their touch like tiny, scratching claws against my skin.

"Michael!" I screamed, gasping as the current pulled at me.

He started towards me, his face showing alarm. Then, Victoria, who was standing near the edge a little further down, let out a theatrical little shriek and feigned a stumble. Michael' s head whipped towards her. He changed direction, rushing to her side, "rescuing" her from a non-existent fall.

I struggled, the cold seeping into my bones. Two Conclave guards, the ones who patrolled the riverbanks, pulled me out. I was shivering, scratched, my clothes soaked.

Michael finally rushed over, Victoria clinging to his arm, looking pale and "frightened."

"Ellie! Are you alright?" he asked, his voice tight with what sounded like concern.

Then, his eyes fixed on Victoria. "Her ankle, she might have twisted it. Ellie, quickly, your blood."

My family' s bloodline carried potent healing properties, a natural gift. He knew this. Once, years ago, he' d found a small cut on my finger and had tearfully refused to let me even consider using my blood' s essence for something so minor for himself, saying it was too precious.

Now, he didn' t even ask. He grabbed my arm, his fingers tight. Before I could react, he produced a small, sharp ritual knife he always carried and made a swift cut on my forearm. He pressed my arm, forcing the blood to well up, then guided the flow towards Victoria' s "injured" ankle. She simpered up at him.

I felt a different kind of chill then, one that had nothing to do with the river.

As he tended to Victoria, a sudden, sharp spiritual pain shot through me. I clutched my chest. My Heartstone Locket. It was gone. Michael had given it to me years ago. It was meant to stabilize my spirit after I secretly endured a dangerous Resonance Trial – a trial like being struck by spiritual lightning – all to secure his position as Chapter Head. Without it, the river's spiritual chill, combined with the shock and betrayal, was agony. It felt like my soul itself was freezing.