to respond to the frequency of the Warriors,” one said. “Why not place it there?”
“What if we are wrong? Should we not seek higher counsel?”
“We are the Great Council,” another asserted. “We are supposed to know what to do, not go running for help like senseless recruits.”
“But this is most unusual.”
“Most unusual indeed.”
“Perhaps we should ask it,” one member suggested.
“Good idea.”
The whole time the golden beings were discussing the matter, the silver being was bowing lower and lower, until Meg thought it would disappear through the floor. She was about to throw herself at the mercy of the Council when one of them addressed her directly.
“Did you feel anything at all during any point in the Ceremony of Spectral Frequencies?”
There was a heavy silence as every being in the Great Hall held its thoughts, waiting for her to answer. Meg shifted on her feet, hiding her scarred arm in the folds of her robe.
“Does it understand us?” a frustrated Council member asked.
“Yes, I understand,” Meg finally spoke.
The room erupted again.
“It speaks with its mouth,” one of the Councillors gasped.
“I did feel something,” Meg continued, the Council members staring at her lips as she talked. “The Warriors—I felt some kind of resonance with them.”
“Did I not tell you!” a Council member said. “It belongs to the Warrior Frequency.”
“Do you think it will be all right?” another asked.
“We’ll try it there and see what happens.”
This satisfied the Councillors who unanimously agreed that putting Meg somewhere was better than nowhere at all. They turned to the Prism. The being raised its silver mallet and hit all eight forks at once. A dissonant chord filled the air. It twined to the ceiling, growing in volume and sweeping through the Hall in a freight train of sound. It tore at the coloured banners, bending the recruits in half with its force. Meg leaned into it, using all her power to hold fast. Whatever changes she would undergo she would accept, no matter what.
When the wind stopped, she looked at herself. Her magenta glow was gone, and the scar on her defective arm was more visible than before. The Light of Corometh hadn’t appeared for her either. She turned to the silver being in dismay.
It blinked back at her. “Your eyes are a deeper shade of violet.”
Meg shrugged. “I guess that’s something.”
The Prism left the stage, followed by its two silver beings. The Council members exchanged looks.
“Now what?” one said.
The Councillor with the gavel hammered it down on the table. “Take your place among the Warriors,” it ordered.
The silver being nodded at Meg. She joined the Warriors, reluctantly, the recruits eyeing her warily.
The gavel struck the table one last time. “All right,” the Council member said with some relief. “Let us begin the next phase.”
HEX
C addy woke in a darkened room. An antique glass oil lamp glowed beside her on a small wooden table. Her hands had been cleaned and wrapped in cloth bandages. She touched her forehead. Her brain throbbed. Her tongue felt like tinfoil and the acrid taste of solvent lingered in her mouth. She was slumped in a worn green upholstered chair that looked as though it had been dragged from the garbage. Her whole body ached. How long had she been sitting here? She pushed herself upright, causing small grenades of light to burst across her field of vision. Raising her head, she caught her breath when she saw a woman staring back at her from a chair across the room.
Eyes scanning, Caddy searched for a way out and found the man who’d abducted her standing in front of the door. There was nowhere to go.
The woman spoke, her voice heavy with a Russian accent. “Please, don’t be alarmed.”
Caddy squinted through the subdued light. She could see now that the woman was really just a girl—twenty-two at most—not much older than herself. Her skin was smooth and pale. Her blond
“What if we are wrong? Should we not seek higher counsel?”
“We are the Great Council,” another asserted. “We are supposed to know what to do, not go running for help like senseless recruits.”
“But this is most unusual.”
“Most unusual indeed.”
“Perhaps we should ask it,” one member suggested.
“Good idea.”
The whole time the golden beings were discussing the matter, the silver being was bowing lower and lower, until Meg thought it would disappear through the floor. She was about to throw herself at the mercy of the Council when one of them addressed her directly.
“Did you feel anything at all during any point in the Ceremony of Spectral Frequencies?”
There was a heavy silence as every being in the Great Hall held its thoughts, waiting for her to answer. Meg shifted on her feet, hiding her scarred arm in the folds of her robe.
“Does it understand us?” a frustrated Council member asked.
“Yes, I understand,” Meg finally spoke.
The room erupted again.
“It speaks with its mouth,” one of the Councillors gasped.
“I did feel something,” Meg continued, the Council members staring at her lips as she talked. “The Warriors—I felt some kind of resonance with them.”
“Did I not tell you!” a Council member said. “It belongs to the Warrior Frequency.”
“Do you think it will be all right?” another asked.
“We’ll try it there and see what happens.”
This satisfied the Councillors who unanimously agreed that putting Meg somewhere was better than nowhere at all. They turned to the Prism. The being raised its silver mallet and hit all eight forks at once. A dissonant chord filled the air. It twined to the ceiling, growing in volume and sweeping through the Hall in a freight train of sound. It tore at the coloured banners, bending the recruits in half with its force. Meg leaned into it, using all her power to hold fast. Whatever changes she would undergo she would accept, no matter what.
When the wind stopped, she looked at herself. Her magenta glow was gone, and the scar on her defective arm was more visible than before. The Light of Corometh hadn’t appeared for her either. She turned to the silver being in dismay.
It blinked back at her. “Your eyes are a deeper shade of violet.”
Meg shrugged. “I guess that’s something.”
The Prism left the stage, followed by its two silver beings. The Council members exchanged looks.
“Now what?” one said.
The Councillor with the gavel hammered it down on the table. “Take your place among the Warriors,” it ordered.
The silver being nodded at Meg. She joined the Warriors, reluctantly, the recruits eyeing her warily.
The gavel struck the table one last time. “All right,” the Council member said with some relief. “Let us begin the next phase.”
HEX
C addy woke in a darkened room. An antique glass oil lamp glowed beside her on a small wooden table. Her hands had been cleaned and wrapped in cloth bandages. She touched her forehead. Her brain throbbed. Her tongue felt like tinfoil and the acrid taste of solvent lingered in her mouth. She was slumped in a worn green upholstered chair that looked as though it had been dragged from the garbage. Her whole body ached. How long had she been sitting here? She pushed herself upright, causing small grenades of light to burst across her field of vision. Raising her head, she caught her breath when she saw a woman staring back at her from a chair across the room.
Eyes scanning, Caddy searched for a way out and found the man who’d abducted her standing in front of the door. There was nowhere to go.
The woman spoke, her voice heavy with a Russian accent. “Please, don’t be alarmed.”
Caddy squinted through the subdued light. She could see now that the woman was really just a girl—twenty-two at most—not much older than herself. Her skin was smooth and pale. Her blond
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