Which meant that, ignoring Ash, there were six, and very few mejai could afford to keep a full complement on hand.
Maiya just happened to be one of them.
“Found you!”
Maiya grabbed the ruby red orb, charged it, and slotted it into her robe.
Some might call her actions reckless. Even deranged, perhaps. Yamal would say she ought to be satisfied with escaping with her life and limbs intact.
But if there was one thing Maiya had learned from Vir, it was to be relentless in the pursuit of power.
Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to turn the tables? She had the eyes of everyone in the plaza. The fire had hidden her movements as she’d rummaged through her bag. Nobody would’ve seen her.
If she could come across as larger-than-life, then maybe, maybe they’d be more willing to pardon her. And maybe Maiya wouldn’t have to go running back to Princess Ira with her tail between her legs.
The more Maiya thought about it, the dumber of an idea it seemed. Surely the princess would understand? Yet in her mind, Maiya was committed to this course of action, and there was just one way forward.
The orb’s power flared, and Maiya felt the heat dissipate, allowing her to calm down.
Thankfully, the nature of magically enchanted clothing and armor was that the defensive effects applied to her whole body, from tip to toe, despite her hands and head not actually being within the robe. There were limits, of course—one couldn’t enchant underwear and expect it to cover the whole body—but her robe was no issue.
Maiya waited as the flames licked her boots, then worked their way up all around her.
The C Grade orb drained faster and faster, but Maiya discreetly continued to refill it.
All the while, she analyzed the crowd for any trace of change in their expressions.
What am I even doing? she thought. She still hadn’t properly recovered from whatever it was she’d been in. A coma? Deep slumber? There were so many questions.
And yet, here she was. Standing in the middle of her own pyre. Distinctly not burning.
The flames grew hotter and hotter, and soon, the flames raged under and over her.
The orb now drained so rapidly, Maiya had to reach into her robe to recharge it while it was slotted and active.
Alright. Let’s hope this is enough to wow them into forgiving me.
Holding her breath, Maiya stepped out.
Yamal paced frantically back and forth, watching the fire grow. And grow. And grow. Maiya looked fine—uncaring, even as the flames consumed her robe. Though specifics of mejai arts were foreign to him, it was obvious she had some means of defending herself.
Invulnerability to fire, however? Yamal had never heard of anything like that. Either she was quite a high-ranking mejai, or…
The flames grew around Maiya, making her disappear.
Yamal exchanged grim looks with the Silent One.
Or she just did something inexplicably foolish.
Even if Maiya screamed for help, there was no saving her now. To enter that bonfire would be suicidal. Whatever happened now, she was on her own.
At least the Children aren’t giving us any trouble, Yamal thought. We should be able to slip away.
And then what?
The question loomed over Yamal’s head like a dark cloud. He’d become so wrapped up with Maiya’s escapades that he hadn’t even considered what he’d do after. What if Maiya did perish? Would he go back to being a freeloading bum? Just a month ago, he was happily living that life, but now, the very idea was revolting.
It was Maiya. After seeing how dazzlingly she lived, after seeing her many varied talents and her indomitable spirit, he felt like some of it had rubbed off.
Grak it, Maiya. Don’t you dare die on me!
The flames roared higher and hotter, and soon the whole pyre was lit.
With every minute that passed, Yamal’s hope waned. Nobody could survive that.
Maiya was dead. She’d allowed herself to die.
A maelstrom of emotions erupted within his chest. She hadn’t even screamed in pain.
Why should someone as bright as her have to perish while he lived? Why hadn’t she come with them?
You asked us to trust you…
The flames parted, and a figure stepped out. Not a burned or disfigured form. Just Maiya. The same as ever.
She stepped off the pyre as casually as if she’d just been taking a light stroll, then cast her gaze over the audience.
“Was that supposed to hurt?” she asked.
The crowd stared at her. One of the Rectors approached her unsteadily. Hesitatingly.
What’s he going to do?
Yamal didn’t think the man could do anything against Maiya, now that she had her magic orbs back, but still… a part of him worried.
And then the Rector did something unthinkable. Yamal gaped, and even the Silent One before him jerked in surprise.
The Rector didn’t admonish Maiya. Nor did he even talk to her.
No, he prostrated.
“Praise to the Blessed Prophet! Praise to the divine emissary!”
The plaza was deathly silent. Then, one by one, each and every Child of Ash followed suit, prostrating in front of Maiya. They began chanting. They chanted Maiya’s name. In reverence.
Not as a member. But as a god.
Oh, I bet she will enjoy this!
6
BLESSED PROPHET (PART THREE) (MAIYA)
Ihate my life. Oh gods, I hate my life.
As so often happened lately, Maiya found herself wondering just how much Fate hated her for things to end up this way. The past week had been full of her most trying days ever, packed with blood rituals, ceremonial blood soakings, and other unspeakable obscenities.
When she’d done her fire performance, she’d hoped to gain enough bargaining power to haggle for her life. Perhaps even to be allowed to stay within the Children of Ash so she could avoid embarrassing herself in front of Ira.
In a stroke of cosmic irony, it seemed her fire gig hadn’t even been necessary. It was just the cherry on top—that she’d awoken at all after touching that tree trunk had been the true miracle.
No one who ever had, ever lived. At least, not until her. The cult deemed those people to be scorned by the Prana Swarm, to be cremated and forgotten as soon as possible, lest their taint spread.
Who could have guessed they’d not only forgive her, they’d actually worship her instead?
Yes, it was all well and good that she was now a celebrity within the organization she’d been tasked with infiltrating. The tone of Princess Ira’s most recent letter made it sound like she’d jumped for joy at Maiya’s success.
A genius! The most valuable asset in the Empire! She’d gone on and on praising Maiya for gaining such a high station within the Children—something no one in recorded history had been able to do.
While flattering, said organization was a cult of deranged blood ritualists, and Maiya was now one of them. How quaint she once thought the blood baptism was bad. If only she’d known what was in store for her…
It was a cruel irony that the more power Maiya gained, the more freedom she seemed to lose along the way.
Back in Brij, she’d been powerless, and yet, her only expectations were that she help with chores and diligently ply herself to her studies.
No swords hung over her head, ready to come down with one wrong move made. There was no royalty demanding she risk her life infiltrating a crazy cult. And there were no disgusting blood rituals.