On an island surrounded by the sea and ruled by the goddess of the ocean, Naheli grows up among the empaths in the City of Glass, where colours and feelings have no place. As the Lady Sacrifice, destined to go to the Goddess at 21 years of age, Naheli studies under the harsh guidance of Mistress Rhima. But in a hidden part of her mind, she keeps secrets from the empaths and feeds dangerous longings.
Led astray by Thilkhan, a cheerful shop keeper of the non-empaths, Naheli begins to discover a world full of poetry and music, books and colours.
But when one day not long before the Sacrifice, she receives a letter, those pleasures turn into bitter defiance – for Leykhan, who supposedly wrote it, died years ago for breaking the Fourth Rule of the Sacrifice.
With only days to go, Naheli follows Leykhan’s trail and finds that those closest to her are capable of betrayal, that Leykhan was not the only one to fall victim to the Sacrifice, and that the four rules have become twisted into a tool of power.
An excerpt
Thilkhan’s hand on her shoulder played with her hair, and Naheli was afraid that he would say something comforting, something that would discount in one sentence all the grief and loss and pain she had. But he only asked, “Dhamikhan showed you that?”
“He didn’t want to do it,” Naheli said and could not understand her impulse to defend him even now. “He showed me that, too.”
Thilkhan’s hand tightened around her hair. “He’s a pawn, Nel. As much caught in this shit as either of us. Maybe he’s the one with least of a chance to escape.”
“We don’t have a chance of escape.”
“Really?” Thilkhan turned his face towards her and smiled, and even in the washed-out starlight, his eyes were still that impossible green that did not belong into the world of the empaths. “You’re the Sacrifice. You walk out of here and sweep everyone away with a brush of your hand if you want. But you don’t want to. That’s the trouble.”
“You promised me not to mess with this.”
“I promised you to go back, not that I wouldn’t argue. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t want to argue now,” Naheli said. She pulled him onward, and the effort silenced him for the time being. Before them, the brick well loomed like a dark castle, seeming larger the further away they stood. As they approached, it grew smaller until it was no more threatening than any old brick well in the Golden Valley, and yet Naheli could hardly bear to look at it.
Through the years and all the lies, Leykhan’s dying screams echoed here. She forced her eyes open, prevented them even from blinking, for as soon as the darkness fell around her, she could see before her mind’s eye the scratches on the inside of the well where Leykhan had tried to claw his way up. Choked sobs, cries for help. Broken fingernails and blood.
The lumps that had been Thilkhan’s hands tightened around her shoulders as he turned her to face him, but she could not bear it. She looked into his eyes and saw Leykhan, saw blue envelopes and black ink running thick like blood, egg shells and the frozen ocean, the horizon of what could have been their mainland future.
Naheli pulled away and covered her face with her hands. She heard that Thilkhan stumbled without her support, heard the grating sound as he supported himself on the rough edge of the well, his gasp of pain when his battered hands met the stone. The iron chain rattled, and the bucket that had never been pulled up clanked against the stone wall on the inside of the well, deep down, in the dark water.
For a long time, Thilkhan said nothing, and Naheli was grateful for it. The soft howl of the wind and the stone-iron sounds were enough to fill all of her senses. In the end, he pushed his arm under hers from behind.
“Do you still want to go to the beach?”
Naheli shook her head and felt how that great loneliness of the universe began to swallow her, bit by bit. “There’s so much death here,” she said. The echo of her words trembled on the town square for a little while before it faded.
Thilkhan’s voice wiped away the shiver that echo had left behind. “Not now. We’re still alive.”
“And for how long?” Naheli spun around to him. “You’re going to be bleeding here tomorrow, have you forgotten that?”
“Not easy to forget, that.”
“Then how can you be so bloody calm about it?”
Thilkhan honestly seemed to muse on her question, but in the end, he shrugged. “I’d like to think I did the best I could. No shame in dying when you’ve lived to the fullest, is there?”
“Have you?” Naheli heard her voice crack before she became aware of her tears. She wiped them away and pressed her lips together. “Have I?”
“No,” Thilkhan said, and his smile faded. “You haven’t. So let’s make the most of the time that’s left, and not waste it arguing.”