by Amy Ewing
Sera was curious to see what a male looked like. Cerulean did not need males to procreate; they contained that power within their own bodies. Her purple mother had explained it to Sera when she was twelve, how she carried an egg inside her womb that had split when it was ready and formed Sera. But in Kaolin and Pelago it took one male and one female to make a child, and of course, any information about the planet had unleashed another round of questions, and her green mother did not know nearly enough about the two countries to satisfy Sera’s curiosity.
“Other green mothers in times past knew more,” she had said. “Especially in the days of old, when we used to visit the planets themselves. But we do not go down onto them anymore.”
“Why not?” Sera had asked. It appealed to her greatly, the idea of visiting Kaolin and Pelago. What did the people look like? What sort of clothes might they wear? Were their dwellings made of sunglass like the Cerulean homes? Did they live in the light and love of Mother Sun, too?
“Long ago,” her green mother had begun, in the low, smooth voice she used to tell all the best stories, “the Cerulean would travel to a tethered planet to get to know its people and have a better understanding of the wide ways of the universe, in which we are all interconnected.”
“How would they get to the planet?” Sera asked eagerly. That sounded like fun, a real adventure, something she would surely like to do.
“I do not know. It is not remembered.”
Sera huffed. It was always the most interesting parts of the stories that seemed to be lost in antiquity.
“How would they know its people? Does the whole universe speak the Cerulean language?”
Her green mother had laughed at that. “No, my dear. There are many languages spoken in the universe. But part of the Cerulean magic is that we can understand them all, and learn to speak them in turn. Some were easier to learn than others—I remember my own green mother telling me a wonderful tale of a planet populated by giant birds with colorful plumage and crests of jade and gold. It took quite some time for the Cerulean back then to communicate with these birds, but once they did, they were allowed to fly upon their backs and see the planet as the birds saw it.”
Sera could not think of anything more wonderful than flying around a strange new planet on the back of a giant bird.
“I do not know if it is true,” her green mother said, as if reading Sera’s mind. “It may only have been a story my green mother made up to entertain me.”
“But the Cerulean did used to go down to the planets,” Sera insisted.
“Yes.”
“What if a planet had monsters on it? Or a poisonous atmosphere?”
“The magic in our blood can withstand any atmosphere,” her green mother reminded her. “We can breathe in places where colorful birds or monsters cannot.”
“But if we haven’t gone down onto this planet since we arrived here, how do you know anything about Kaolin and Pelago at all?” she asked.
“The High Priestess has ways of discerning a planet’s life, its populations and resources, and occasionally its customs. But those ways are secret, and not to be confided to a lowly green mother. They require a magic more powerful than you or I possess.”
Sera felt that if the High Priestess knew how to do this, she should share it with everyone. Wasn’t sharing a significant part of Cerulean life?
“She has told us what little she knows of this planet, and that is enough,” her green mother said, sensing Sera’s irritation. “All she does is to protect us. You spoke of monsters before, but you hit nearer to the mark than you might think. Not all monsters have horns or sharp teeth and claws. On the last planet, the humans who lived there were cruel and selfish. They did not trust the Cerulean who came to visit, and they wished to harness our magic for their own purposes.”
Sera gasped. “Can they do that?”
Her green mother held up a glowing finger. “Our magic lives in our blood, but it can be removed, yes. Or consumed, as in the case of the sleeping sickness.”
The sleeping sickness was the only disease that could kill a Cerulean—it fed on their magic, and Cerulean could not survive without the magic in their blood. But there hadn’t been a case of the sleeping sickness in the City since before Sera was born. She stared at her hands, fascinated. What did her magic look like outside her body, outside her blood?
“So if we were to go down onto the planet, the humans would try to steal our blood?” Sera asked.
“They might. We do not know for certain. But is it not best to be safe, rather than suffer another tragedy like the Great Sadness?”
Sera wasn’t sure about that. Of course, she did not want any Cerulean to die, but she also felt there was so much they did not know, and how could they be sure the humans on this planet were like the humans on the previous one? She found herself spending lots of time in the Day Gardens, perched in the old willow that bent over the end of the Estuary where it spilled out into space, watching the planet below and wondering what lives were being lived on it and how they might differ from her own.
No one else seemed to care as much about the planet, so Sera had buried those thoughts deep in the place where she kept all her secrets and questions and longings she could never share.
But now, finally, at long last, one of those questions was to be answered. A choosing ceremony! What would it be like? And then a journey through space to a new planet. Maybe, after so many years of safety, the Cerulean would be allowed to visit it as they once had. Maybe Sera would find her purpose with a new planet.
Her heart felt as though it was about to beat its way out of her chest as she and Leela walked up the stairs to the temple, its great golden doors flung wide and covered in the mysterious markings of Mother Sun. Once inside, Sera caught sight of her orange mother.
“Sera, come!” she called.
Leela squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you after,” she said.
Sera nodded and made her way through the crowd. The orange ribbon around her mother’s neck glowed against her silver skin as she bent to smooth Sera’s hair and adjust her dress. Mother Sun had created the Cerulean by taking a token from each of her three Moon Daughters—a tear from devout Dendra, a strand of hair from wise Faesa, and the sound of gentle Aila’s laughter. Each daughter was represented by a color—orange, green, and purple—and each color was given to a Cerulean woman when she married to indicate her role in the family. Orange mothers taught prayer and devotion, green mothers were in charge of education, and purple mothers were nurturers, and also birth mothers, blessed to produce life.
They fell in love in threes, seeking in some sense to reunite the tokens, or so her purple mother had said. Sera knew her mother did not mean it literally—the Moon Daughters were sisters, after all, and not wives. But she knew when she saw her mothers together, in the quiet moments after dinner when they thought Sera was preparing for bed, or in the soft looks they gave each other while working in the garden, that not one would be complete without the other two.
As Sera and her orange mother made their way to their family spot, Sera could not help but be slightly disappointed at the normalcy around her. The temple looked the same as it always did, its wide circular room laid out with cushions like at evening prayers, its vaulted ceiling covered with illustrations of the sun and moons and stars. The only difference was that usually everyone wore hooded prayer robes to the temple, made of soft seresheep wool and dyed pale blue, but since the ceremony had been called so abruptly, no one had had time to change. It was strange to see everyday clothes inside the temple.
Sera’s family spot was on the right side near the alcove that housed the Altar of the Lost: a huge, mounted sun made of intertwining threads of sungold and moonsilver. Tiny, dark blue stargems in the shape of tears adorned its gleaming surface, one for each Cerulean who had died in the Great Sadness.
“Are you excited?” her purple mother asked as she took her seat on a cushion.
“You will get to see another planet, at lo
ng last,” her green mother said with a knowing look.
“Who do you think will be chosen?” Sera asked. She felt a twinge of guilt—it did not seem right to be so eager when the ceremony would sentence a Cerulean to death, however honorable and worthy that death might be. But she also could not help herself.
“Hush, that is not for us to decide,” her orange mother said.
Sera craned her neck, looking for Leela—her family was seated not far from Sera’s. Her best friend gave her an excited wave.
As soon as the temple was full, the High Priestess appeared, crossing the chancel to stand behind the pulpit. The novices filed in along the temple walls, and the three acolytes stood behind the High Priestess with solemn expressions.
The High Priestess was the tallest Cerulean in the City, and she held herself with an otherworldly grace. She wore cloudspun robes of brilliant blue that matched her hair, and on her head was a circlet of sungold, a precious moonstone set in its center. Moonstone was exceedingly rare; Sera’s green mother told her it had once possessed its own sort of magic, though she could not say exactly what. The only moonstone remaining in the City were the three statues in the Moon Gardens, the obelisk by the birthing houses, and the High Priestess’s circlet.
And the stone that Leela had found, but that was a secret that only Sera knew.
The High Priestess was beautiful, the fresh flush of youth still evident in her silver cheeks, though she was ancient. Mother Sun would decide when her work was over and the time came for her to pass on.
The High Priestess placed a bowl on the pulpit, one Sera had never seen before. There were various bowls used for different things, ceremonies and celebrations and such, always filling with the light of Mother Sun in hues that varied from pale yellow to darkest green. But this bowl looked old and crumbling. It was not as stately or impressive as others Sera had seen. She could just make out indecipherable markings scratched around its outer edges, reminiscent of those on the temple doors.
“Welcome, my children,” the High Priestess said, raising her hands above her. “May Mother Sun favor us with her light and love. This we pray.”
“This we pray,” the congregation echoed back.
“The time has come at last,” she continued. “Mother Sun has spoken. We are ready to leave this planet behind, to search the recesses of the universe for a new home. Are you ready, my children? Are you prepared to make this sacrifice?”
“We are,” the Cerulean chorused back.
The High Priestess placed her palms gently on either side of the bowl. Sera feared for a moment that any pressure might crack it into pieces, but the bowl was sturdier than it appeared.
“Who among us is strong enough to break the tether? Who here is pure of heart and valiant in her faith? Tell us, Mother! Give us the chosen one.”
The novices began to hum, a prayer song Sera had never heard before, so she imagined it must be special for this particular ceremony. She wondered how the novices had learned it so quickly or if it was one of those songs they had been taught and then forgotten, and had to brush up on as the bells rang out. She swayed on her cushion along with her mothers and the rest of the Cerulean as the High Priestess closed her eyes and bent her head over the bowl. From within its depths, a rich golden light began to shine. Softly at first, then brighter and brighter, until it was painful to look at and Sera’s green mother had to shield her gaze from its radiance. Sera thought she heard strange whispers in foreign tongues coming from the light.
The humming of the novices grew louder. Many of the orange mothers in the congregation began to pray fervently, swaying faster and faster. Some purple mothers were openly weeping. Sera’s orange mother had her eyes closed, transfixed in the swath of light. Sera’s ears began to ring, the sound growing in pitch until she thought she could bear it no longer. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t seem to move a muscle, not even to blink. Just as she thought she must do something, that she could not bear to keep looking at the sacred bowl or her eyeballs would surely burn in their sockets, the markings moved. And though she could not explain how or why, Sera understood them.
They read: Heal them.
Then the ringing stopped and the light vanished. The markings were once more illegible and Sera rubbed her eyes, her heart pounding, unable to comprehend what she had just seen. The High Priestess was bent and out of breath, her hands clutching the side of the podium for support. Her three acolytes looked at each other nervously, but as one moved forward to help, the High Priestess straightened.
“Mother Sun has spoken,” she said, her voice dull and fatigued. Her eyes scanned the crowd once, twice, then finally came to rest.
“Sera Lighthaven,” she called, and the ripple of heads turning was like a wind running through the temple. Sera was vaguely aware of a gasp from her orange mother and a soft whimper from her purple mother. She was mostly conscious of her blood boiling under the surface of her skin, a frightening heat filling her from head to toe, and a prickling sensation in the corners of her eyes.
“Sera Lighthaven.” The High Priestess called her name again, and her orange mother whispered, “Stand up, darling.”
Sera’s legs trembled as she rose to her feet. She could feel every pair of eyes on her, like little points of light stabbing her skin. She wanted to look for Leela but found she could not tear her gaze away from the High Priestess’s face. Her heart, which had been thunderous in her chest a moment ago, now felt profoundly silent.
“You have been chosen by Mother Sun,” the High Priestess said. “It is you who will break the tether.” She held her arms out to the congregation. “Praise her! Praise the chosen one!”
And everyone in the temple bowed low, pressing their foreheads to the ground. Even the novices. Even the acolytes.
Sera had always longed to know what else the magic in her blood might be capable of, besides healing and blood bonding. She always thought there must be more to it, especially once her green mother had told her of how the evil humans on the planet tried to steal it. But she had never truly believed a choosing ceremony would happen in her lifetime and so had never considered the dangerous side to her blood.
“In three days’ time, Sera Lighthaven will make the greatest leap of faith a Cerulean can make,” the High Priestess announced. “She will throw herself from the dais in the Night Gardens and spill her blood to break the tether. She will be honored and cherished by us all as we travel to our new home!”
Hearing her say the details out loud, Sera felt numb. Her brain refused to believe the information, as if the High Priestess were talking about someone else.
We are the Cerulean. Our blood is magic.
The words held a new and terrible meaning for her now.
Her blood meant death.
3
ALL EYES WERE ON SERA AS SHE LEFT THE TEMPLE WITH her mothers.
The High Priestess had declared an evening of silence and meditation, so everyone was sent to their dwellings to pray and prepare themselves for the days to come.
Sera was eager to get away from the crowds. She hadn’t even tried to find Leela in the mass of Cerulean that surrounded her, praising her or gazing at her with awe, as if she had become something worthy of wonder over the course of thirty minutes. She didn’t like it. She was still the same Sera she had been this morning in the cloudspinners’ grove.
“It is an honor,” her orange mother said once they were out of hearing of the others. Her throat sounded tight as she spoke.
“It is a necessity,” her green mother said quietly.
Her purple mother said nothing.
For once, there weren’t a thousand questions buzzing around in Sera’s head. There was only one and it thudded over and over, louder than the beating of her heart.
Why?
Why her? The details she knew of the ceremonies in the past were scant, but she’d always thought an adult Cerulean was chosen. And it wasn’t just her age—she wasn’t as devout as Elorin, nor as beautiful as Koreen.
She wasn’t as pleasant as Daina or as patient as Leela. The High Priestess had even called her a nuisance once, when she discovered Sera climbing the temple’s spire. Why would Mother Sun choose such a mediocre, bothersome Cerulean to help the City?
“Are you hungry, Sera?” her green mother asked when they arrived home. “I could fry you some squash blossoms.”
But the hunger she had felt earlier in the day had vanished, and her green mother’s suggestion seemed like a cruel joke.
“Or we could pray together,” her orange mother suggested.
Her purple mother simply held out a hand, her index finger glowing bright blue as her magic swirled under her skin. All Sera had to do was call on her own magic and touch her glowing finger to her mother’s. Her purple mother would read her heart and she would not have to explain herself.
But Sera did not feel like blood bonding right now.
She turned and ran to her bedroom, wishing, for the first time, that there was a door she could shut. The only doors in the City were on the temple and in the birthing houses.
She heard her orange mother’s footsteps approach and threw herself onto her bed, facing the glassy wall.
“Otess,” her purple mother called. “Leave her.”
There was a pause, and then the footsteps receded. Sera felt shame wash over her, hot and stinging. She loved her mothers more than anything. She hated the thought that she was hurting them.
But she didn’t call her orange mother back.
Sera stayed there, staring at the star mobile hanging above her, as evening slipped into night. She heard her mothers preparing for bed, sheets rustling, pillows being fluffed, and murmured conversations. She heard her name mentioned several times, but they did not come to see her and she was grateful for it. Usually there was laughter as the house readied for sleep, and the gentle sounds of kissing, but not tonight. Sera wondered if they were feeling as confused and heartbroken as she was.
