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“Is anyone else majorly creeped out?” Onyx asked, shooting glances around the crowd.
“I wouldn’t be lying if I said the hair on the back of my neck is standing up,” Miles agreed.
Oliver rubbed against my leg and meowed. I turned in the direction he was looking, toward a long line of vendors. The closest was a tattoo booth with a big sign showing a five-pointed star. It was the mark of Miriam’s Chosen—the priestess’s cult they were trying to convert everyone to. A few months ago, they’d announced Miriam’s Chosen as an elite group of witches and warlocks, and they’d advertised it as a revelation from Mother Miriam. Anyone who joined Miriam’s Chosen had to follow strict rules, including leaving any intercast relationships. In return, members were promised more power and a place in Alora. Anyone who didn’t join was subject to fines and ridicule. The priestesses were intent on separating those who would follow them blindly from those who would question them.
It seemed that things had only gotten worse since we’d left. People lined up to get their tattoos. It looked like a few people even had multiples.
Nausea swirled in my gut as we passed by more vendors. Professor Clarke and Professor Lewis handed out flyers at a booth with the school’s crest. Professor Clarke was a Seer who taught Miriamic Law, and Professor Lewis was an Alchemist who taught Magical Plants and Herbs. I snagged a flyer and began reading it.
Across the top in big bold letters were the words School Reopened! It looked like it was meant to be hopeful, but this was the furthest thing from that. Due to limited space, enrollment is now open to elite members of Miriam’s Chosen, to train the next generation of Executors.
I wanted to hurl. “It looks like the school has reopened to test people’s loyalties.”
Nadine scanned the page. “Tuition rates have gone up, too. And look at the fine print. Tuition must be paid in full by the first day of term. Scholarships will not be accepted.”
“So only the people with money can afford to go?” Chloe asked rhetorically.
“Why do they say the next generation of Executors, as if we’ve ever had them before?” Grant spat. “It’s like they’re selling it as some prestigious tradition.”
“They want it to seem honorable,” Talia said sarcastically.
We slowly moved through the crowd. The next booth was a land development company. Big posters showed upcoming projects, and I noticed each new apartment complex was named for its Cast. It was an obvious ploy by the priestesses to divide the coven even further, by making each Cast live apart from each other.
We passed by another booth, where the bank had a big sign that read, Apply For a Relief Loan Here!
Ever since the priestesses turned the Casts against one another, businesses had begun failing, and a lot of people had lost their jobs. People were desperate for money just to put food on the table. A lot of families didn’t have options other than to take out loans to cover their basic costs of living. I overheard the man behind the booth tell a woman the interest rates, and my soul just about left my body. It was like the priestesses were intentionally putting their people into debt. It was just another way to control them.
A line had formed near a booth advertising some new employment program. Oliver ducked through the crowd and came back with a pamphlet in his mouth. I took it from him and began reading.
At first glance, the employment program sounded like a good deal. The coven was promising that factory workers would be provided housing, food, healthcare, and all other essentials in addition to a salary. Then I got to the part where it outlined their mission, which spewed all kinds of nonsense about how the coven needed to manufacture magical objects so they could sell them and use the money to build their army.
The fae are knocking on our door, and we must heed the call!
The whole thing seemed targeted toward students who couldn’t afford to attend Miriam College. The priestesses were going to make them work at their factories, or they’d be left on the streets. I caught sight of the fine print at the bottom, saying that all these perks would be immediately rescinded if you stopped working. People weren’t allowed to change jobs, and they had no security if they fell ill or were injured.
My hands curled into fists, crushing the pamphlet between my fingers. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could stomach.
The next booth had a big banner that read Miriam’s Chosen. I didn’t want to hear what bullshit they were trying to sell, until I spotted a student I recognized speaking to an elderly woman behind the booth. It was Samantha Stone, a girl who’d been in most of my Mortana classes. She was always at the top of the class and usually kept to herself.
“I’ve been thinking about joining Miriam’s Chosen,” Samantha admitted to the older woman.
No, not Samantha, I thought. She had been against the priestesses' methods and had spoken up during the Burning. It didn’t seem right that she would be swayed toward their side. Things were clearly worse than I could’ve ever imagined.
“Can you tell me more about the organization?” Samantha asked.
“Miriam’s Chosen is not an organization in which you join, but a choice to devote yourself to our deity,” the elderly woman said.
Her voice sounded familiar, and as I peered closer through the crowd, I realized I recognized her, too. It was Miss Leanne, my old kindergarten teacher. She’d long since retired, and she’d aged nearly twenty years since I last saw her, but she spoke with the same soft, kind voice I remembered. That was dangerous, because Miss Leanne’s kindness was the type that made anyone feel welcome, no matter what rhetoric she was pushing. I didn’t think she was trying to manipulate people on purpose, but I did believe the priestesses put her behind that booth for a reason.
“You are already a member of the coven, and therefore have already agreed to follow Mother Miriam,” Miss Leanne continued. “Joining Miriam’s Chosen is simply a declaration of your decision, one which will elevate you to your highest potential.”
“That’s why I haven’t joined yet,” Samantha said. “I’ve been struggling with my faith, because I don’t understand why Mother Miriam would make this declaration now, when we’ve already devoted ourselves to her. We’ve all undergone our Evoking Ceremony to join the coven, so why do we need another ceremony?”
“We do not need to wonder why Mother Miriam asks this of us. We must simply hold to our faith and trust our mother, for we are merely her children, and there is much we cannot understand in our earthly forms. I implore you to cast out your doubt, for faith is all you need. It is not the nature of a good witch to question her goddess, but the nature of an apostate to doubt her will. Each of us must choose which path we will follow.”
“I don’t wish to be an apostate. I know where they go.” Samantha apprehensively pointed downward, like speaking the word aloud was a sin itself.
Oh, for fuck’s sake! The priestesses couldn’t really be telling people that they’d be tortured in the Abyss if they didn’t join the Chosen. Except… that’s exactly what it sounded like.
