I sit with Marlene and Denet for breakfast days later when they break the news to me.

  “We have Vigil today at the chapel,” Marlene says after a sip of fallroot tea. She doesn’t look at me when she speaks.

  “Every week, the same day,” Denet says. “Father Edrine says we need a cleaning or we'll be sick in our souls.” Even this the boy says with a grin.

  Marlene doesn't smile. “I may not like Edrine or the clergy, but I stand with the villagers. I ain’t one to push farther than I ought to.”

  So she isn’t asking if I want to go. She tells me I must, if I am to be accepted. Nox shutters under my shirt, reading my concern before I recognize it.

  After our meal, I chop firewood for Denet to carry. My stamina is poor, so I rest often. Denet comments on that fact, saying that hunters can chop wood all day. I ignore him.

  Raimi and her family meet us for Vigil. Marlene is friends with Raimi’s mother. Taren joins the gathering villagers. Even Honep follows along in the back with his own family. Everyone enters the chapel at the toll of the midday bell.

  Pews fill the oversized room, enough for twice the village. Edrine stands at the front, still and stoic. When he sees me, he treads between villagers until he stands within comfortable speaking distance. “Young Sevorn, if you will prepare candles with me.”

  Denet drops Marlene’s hand so he can cover his mouth. I can hear him mutter under his breath, “—never asks me to do it—”

  Marlene frowns, her eyes locked on Edrine, who doesn’t react. He focuses on me. Everyone does. Clearly, there is something I’m supposed to respond with.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Edrine nods, and so do many of the villagers.

  No one sits, even after they shuffle into the pews. Their eyes follow Edrine and me. I walk behind Edrine’s black robes, his tall frame towering over me.

  Two rows of candelabras line a narrow table, though none have a candle. Those I see on the edge, in a plain wooden box.

  “Is this your first Vigil?” Edrine asks. His voice is soft, so only I can hear him.

  I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t answer. Instead, I assume the candles must belong in their candelabras, so I walk to the box and reach inside. Each candle reflects a brilliant white color, with golden markings edged in the wax. Runes, from what I can surmise.

  Warmth greets me as my fingers touch one, like when I lay near the runes of the forest hut, except with less intensity.

  It’s not until I grasp the candle and lift it out of the box that I realize a single finger is much less contact than a hand. My hand feels inflamed in seconds.

  My grip breaks, and the candle drops back into the pile.

  Nox crawls along my shoulder, under my shirt, back and forth.

  I don’t turn to see Edrine, but I can feel his eyes on me, waiting.

  Is this some burning ceremony to cleanse themselves—because I doubt I can place each of these candles, let alone one.

  But something is off. Something’s wrong with this. Denet seems desperate for a turn preparing candles. Marlene didn’t warn that I might suffer at the Vigil.

  If I cannot touch these candles, they will think me otherworldly—a monster even.

  I reach back into the box. A single candle. My hand shakes.

  The flames of pain inch from my fingers and palm to my wrist before I set the candle in its holder. There are eleven more.

  The respite between candles is short. The scorching feeling doesn’t fade. By the third candle, the pain reaches my elbow. By the sixth, my neck. I cannot breathe while I traverse the eight steps from the box to the candelabra after that.

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  I feel a prick in my shoulder. Nox has bitten me.

  [Spirit Bond] is now level 3.

  Nox acts like a siphon, draining the burning sensation. I continue, taking the seventh candle with vigor. We will break through these runes together.

  But my poor friend has his limits, as do I. My body is fading, my vitality so dulled I worry I will collapse.

  At the tenth candle, pain fills me from head to toe. It cannot grow any worse. But it doesn’t need to—I fall to the floor, vision blackening. Nox has released his bite. I can feel him convulsing.

  I blink, and Taren kneels beside me. He takes the candle and puts it in the holder, then moves to the next. I try to rise, but only reach my knees, using my hands to keep from crumpling again.

  I refuse to look at Edrine. He must sense something. Only weakness, if I can justify it.

  While the crowd watches on, Taren finishes the preparation, then lifts me up.

  As embarrassed as I should feel, I only breathe relief as I’m helped to where Marlene and Denet stand. Marlene looks furious. When I reach her, she grabs at me. I have no strength to resist her.

  But she clings to me, pulling me against her, as if to hold me up.

  Father Edrine doesn’t react to my failure. Once Taren and I return to the pews, he reaches one finger to the wick of the first candle. It bursts into flames. He repeats this with each, then faces the congregation.

  Everyone takes a seat. Marlene helps me sit. Her fury comes in mutters that I cannot piece together.

  “Children of the Vigil,” Edrine begins. He begins to pace, though his voice carries well with the vaulted ceiling. “We each have been given the [Skills] gifted to us for our purpose here in life. Our fates are intertwined with what we receive at the age of beginnings. Twelve. A holy number. A holy age, when we are bound to our fates and guided into adulthood…”

  I sag in my seat. Marlene doesn’t protest as I lean against her. I’m so weak.

  My pocket has a fresh patch of moss. So much vitality in such a small plant. I itch to leech it dry, but I cannot. The runes sapped my strength: mana, stamina, and vitality. I’m a husk, foolish enough to pretend I’m like the rest of the villagers, nearly enough to kill me.

  I see Taren steal glances my way. He helped me, but his eyes show more than concern for my health.

  Edrine continues to speak of our part in the world, each of us a distinct note, filling the world with music, but most of it confuses me. Then a faint smell of smoke reaches my nose and I burst upright, knocking into Marlene’s protective arm.

  She catches my shoulder. “Sevorn?” she whispers.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  But it’s far from nothing. The vapors from the candles fill the room. There’s magic there. Different from the runes, but sapping my strength all the same.

  I don’t know how long the Vigil is, but I cannot stay much longer. I could release the candles, but I cannot escape the fumes.

  My mana has replenished some, but it fades fast. I snatch the moss in my pocket and [Leech Grip], emptying my mana and lifting my vitality.

  Edrine falters in the middle of a sentence. I don’t know what he was saying, but I know why he stops.

  His eyes meet mine.

  “The weekly Vigil is a reminder,” the Edrine starts again. “A chance to remember. While Mother Life has granted us [Skills] to better ourselves and her people, there lurks in the world an evil, opposite of life, that fuels the monsters of this world. Vigilance is needed, good people, for if we ever forsake Mother Life and let in the shadow, we will be doomed to a fate worse than death.”

  [Leech Grip] gives me vitality enough to endure the rune fumes, but when the Vigil is over, I’m so depleted in stamina and mana that Marlene must help me stand. She shares a piece of bread with me, which she urges me to eat. The food builds my stamina, but the fumes still sap my strength.

  “That man,” Marlene says as we leave the chapel. “He shouldn’t have children prepare candles.”

  I must know. “Does it always feel like…” I leave her space to answer.

  Marlene nods. “Like holy light, those runes.” She shakes her head. “Gives you the shakes, that it does, feeling holy power in your hands.”

  I look down at my hands, which are unscarred despite the scorching sensation.

  “It fades, dear,” Marlene says. “But you did have a time up there, worse than I expected. Not much experience holding so much holiness, I suspect.” She sighs. “Should keep you strong for the week, I’d say. Though handling one or two candles would’ve been enough for that. That should be the limit for children, no matter if they have a [Skill] or not.”

  So I am different after all.

  Edrine appears at the doorway of the chapel at that moment, and his eyes lock onto me. I don’t give him time to speak or come any closer.

  With thanks to Marlene for the bread, I run off into the forest. I need time alone.

  Nox clicks and I get the sensation of food. He circles my head and is off. Though I have no need for simple gatherings, I follow.

  A patch of mushrooms greets me, close to the village. I should remember this location.

  But when we reach it, there is something wrong. The dark glow of decay is warped around the mushrooms, billowing in and out, like it breathes. [Detect Decay] gives me rapid pulses, unlike anything I’ve felt before.

  I don’t eat them. And I wonder at their source.