Thalia clung to her mother’s arm as they crossed the battlements atop the walls of Terras. They passed beneath the great arches alongside seven other ‘lucky’ families and began to climb the wide stairway. Ice formed on the ends of her eyelashes and the air she breathed froze her nose.

  “Why must the walls be so high?” she asked her mother.

  “They were built centuries ago for a war against the North. Don’t think about that now. Stay focussed and make our family proud. Petyr will be looking out the window, waiting every day to find out if you won.”

  Thalia pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her new coat. The Baron himself had given it to her when he heard about her mark, but even seal skin couldn’t protect against the cold up here. Her fingers closed around the hard edges of the gift from Peytr. She’d promised her older brother that she’d keep it with her. She closed her eyes and saw his big, foolish grin. She felt a little warmer.

  “Thalia, look!”

  They rounded the last turn. The spiral stairs that wound beneath the arches of ice, carved anew each year with the faces of past emperors, led to an opening in the mountainside and pitch blackness. Only the highest priests, the Prophet Emperor themselves and eight chosen ever entered. The chosen did not always return.

  Thalia’s mind returned to her home and the bite that changed her life.

  She was enjoying the midday sun on the south side of Mount Grandthorn. The light reflected off the wet roof tiles of their house, melting last night’s frost. The valley lay before her, the mine behind her and the walls of Terras were just a grey dot at the end of the valley. At eleven years old, she would soon enter the mine. She’d follow her father into the winding tunnels and join him in the darkness, hewing stones from the walls to bring back for Baron Grandthorn. She’d still have the day of Terlos to enjoy the sunshine. One day a week.

  “It’ll have to be you, Tee,” her father told her. “I’ve tried taking Petyr down there. It’s too much for him. One day, you’ll have to make your wages stretch for both of you.”

  She turned to gather her satchel and overcoat. She wanted to roam the valley while the sun was out, but something on the ground caught her eye.

  A money spider.

  The red critters moved quickly, but her mother said if you followed one for long enough, they led you to treasure. She pursued it down the lane and onto the footpath. When it ran off the path and into the grass she chased along on her hands and knees, parting the blades with her fingers as it scuttled between them. She stopped in the shade of a mountain pine where the spider vanished near a small pool.

  She leaned over and her own face looked back. Her straight, black hair clung to her sweaty forehead. Her round cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes glinted in the still water.

  She put her hand in and broke the image. It went deep.

  “Ouch!”

  She pulled her arm out and rubbed the bite. It felt itchy and inflamed. So much for treasure. Then she scratched the back of her hand and looked again.

  By the heavens, surely not me!

  “Where on Terlos’ earth have you been?!” her mother yelled as she burst through the door.

  “We’ve been worried sick! As though there wasn’t enough to worry about, with the news your father brought from the market.”

  She knew what news her father brought. Petyr charged in from the bedroom to greet her. As he wrapped his arms around her, his grin spread across his face and up to his eyes. She kissed him and prised him off. Her father looked at her.

  “Don’t you want to hear the news? Sit down, Tee. It could mean big things for people like us. It could mean change.”

  Thalia sat in front of her parents.

  “I know the news, Father.”

  “What do you mean? The herald only just announced it in the village.”

  She held up her hand and showed them the rash – the perfect image of a circle with eight legs. She looked at both her parents and said:

  “The Prophet Emperor is dead.”

  Thalia unwound herself from her mother’s hug.

  “I must go inside now. The other children have already entered.”

  She walked towards the darkness and her mother called:

  “Thalia Hal-Talen!”

  She turned.

  “Don’t forget about people like us. If you win, win for the miners and farmers. Our god is of the earth, after all. Why shouldn’t it be you? Come back safely and make us proud.”

  Thalia nodded and entered. Her eyes adjusted and she saw one of the other children ahead. She hurried.

  “I’m Thalia,” she said as she matched his pace. She couldn’t see him well, but she knew which he was. An older boy who’d worn merchant’s silks until they’d climbed too high. Then he’d worn a coat like hers.

  “I’m Devra. You’re not going to win, you know.”

  “Oh?”

  “Miners’ daughters are not emperors. Accept it. You should help me, and I’ll look after your family when I’m crowned.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “That’s against the rules!”

  “Rules are made to be broken. We’re not Northerners, are we? Think about it.”

  They entered a vast room. A great, brass gong on the far wall sounded and reverberated through her. She blinked and looked around in awe. A single earth-singer, a black robed priest of Terlos, stood against the far wall with a striker in his hand. Eight pillars formed a circle around the centre. Each supported an earthenware bowl and a pick that stood propped beside it. Some children already stood in front of one. She took an empty place, and Devra took the one beside her.

  The priest, from behind his black shroud, declared:

  “Each chosen will make an offering to the great god Terlos. When the third gong sounds, the Lord will judge them.”

  A grinding filled the chamber and the ground shook. Thalia covered her ears. On the walls beside her, eight stone doors swung inwards. Eight passageways opened. Mineshafts. The children exchanged glances and Thalia caught Devra’s eyes.

  “Miners never win, do they?” she teased.

  Unruffled, he replied: “Never.”

  The gong sounded once.

  Three children scrambled to enter a shaft, pick in hand. Two got on their knees and prayed for guidance. Others dithered between the doors, unable to choose one or the other.

  Thalia walked from one entrance to the next.

  This smells like damp earth. Nothing here but clay. Rotten eggs! That’s how Father smells when he returns from the Baron’s goldmine.

  Thalia chose her door.

  Thalia grew up with that pungent smell. She knew others found it disgusting, but to her it meant her father was home. He’d thunder through the door at sunset, all sulphur and sweat. The whole family would surround him, and the evening ritual would begin with removing the offending over-clothes and bringing him some soap. Thalia would giggle as he pushed off his boots and wiggled his toes in a bucket of water.

  They splashed around and joked like it was any other day, on the evening before she and Mother left. Only Petyr was quiet. Normally nothing could erase his smile. The village idiot, they called him when he went to the market. Father didn’t let it stop them visiting and Petyr paid no heed. Come rain or shine he grinned his grin. Not tonight, though.

  “I'll be home soon.” She rubbed his shoulder.

  He thrust a stone into her hand. It was a flat piece of limestone he’d picked up on a walk because he liked the shape. For a while he’d gone to bed holding it, but now he presented it to her and pointed at one side. He’d etched a circle with eight legs and hung it on a string.

  “I love it! I’ll wear it for good luck.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, but it felt wet beneath her lips.

  Thalia took the good luck stone from her pocket and hung it round her neck. The shaft narrowed and a new smell assailed her nostrils. Something wet, like clay, but oily too. The wall on one side moved.

  A spider golem!

  Under the control of an earth-singer, they’d serve their master tirelessly. But she was no priest. A spider of rock and clay, the size of a large dog, stood in her path. The only sound in the tunnel was her ragged panting and a pattering behind her. She had no time to turn and look. She raised the pick and swung it as the creature jumped.

  Clang!

  The blow deflected, and its body collided with hers. Her breath left her, and a stone leg pushed her face into the ground. She flailed and struck again, but then a second leg held her arm. Her breath came back, and she screamed:

  “Aargh! No!”

  Teeth made of rubies aimed for her chest. This is my end. The luckiest girl in Grandthorn: a failed chosen. The creature’s head reared back and shook in silent pain. Part of its ruby jaw was missing. She looked down and saw her brother’s stone, snapped in two.

  Something struck the golem from above.

  “Back! Get off!” Devra shouted.

  “Hit it from underneath!” Thalia screamed.

  The spider retreated and crouched. She shifted the weight of her pick. She’d only get one more shot at this.

  The creature leapt and she swung into its stomach. The pick collided with soft clay that ripped and squelched as she dragged the point through it. The spider’s legs scrunched, and it fell. Devra pounded its head, but it didn’t matter anymore. The golem was dead.

  Thalia rose, gasping, to her knees. She felt the ground. Devra saw her and scrabbled too, inspecting every piece of rock he found. In her hands she held two pieces of ruby from the creature’s maw. Suddenly, she held only one.

  “I told you to stick with me,” said Devra, smugly. He held the larger piece up and inspected it.

  “That’s mine!” Thalia yelled. She kicked at his legs, and he leapt back.

  “We killed it together. Fair’s fair,” he replied.

  “You followed me down here. I knew where to find it!”

  “And I’m holding it now. Here, have this.” He looked at one of the rocks he’d found. Half a disc of limestone with a crude drawing scrawled on one side. “Looks like it was carved by an idiot.” He threw it at her feet.

  “Come back! It’s not fair, come back!”

  “Put your offering in the bowl with mine,” he called over his shoulder as he ran, “and my deal’s still on.”

  Thalia got up. She looked at the broken disc. You saved my life, Petyr, and you almost won me the greatest gift. I’m sorry I let you down. Tears streamed down her face as she dropped the two halves back in her pocket and walked up the shaft. A second gong sounded.

  She stood before her bowl. Some of the children sat on the ground. One space was empty. A boy placed a nugget of gold in his bowl and smiled. Devra put the larger piece of ruby in his. She looked at the small piece in her hand. She so wanted to tell her family that she’d won. That she’d be the next prophet emperor, and she’d rule the South for people like them. She thought of what her mother said. Make us proud.

  The word thudded in her head, like the ringing of the gong. Proud. Was she here for pride? The great god Terlos was the god of the earth. The god of miners and farmers. Pride was the vice of their Northern neighbours.

  Thalia looked at the ruby in her hand. She thought about it one last time, then threw it to Devra. He grinned and she looked steadily back. His grin faltered and he frowned when she reached into her pocket and took out her brother’s gift. Two halves of limestone broken down the middle, with a crude drawing by a boy who only knew how to smile. She dropped it into the bowl.

  The gong sounded for the final time.

  Thalia allowed the servants to finish dressing her. After three years of training, she’d grown accustomed to such attention. She shouted instructions to Devra as they draped the outer shawl across her shoulders.

  “After my first audience I’ll know which reforms we should start with first. I want my ministers ready.”

  “I still think you should reduce taxes on the guild houses in Terras.”

  “I still think you should visit mining towns to understand them. I intend to start with schools and roads, but not until I receive the advice of our Lord.”

  “Whatever you start with, you’ll do it right,” her advisor replied. “But I’ll be here to remind you that not everyone plays fair.”

  Thalia stood in that same chamber for the first time in three years. She moved to the centre of the eight bowls and looked up into the round the ceiling. A single, red spider appeared at the edge. Then another appeared, and another. Swarms of tiny spiders, of all colours, filled the dome. As they scuttled into a mass the colours merged and swam before her eyes. They throbbed and formed an image. She saw herself, as though in a mirror. She stood atop the great walls of Terras. The vision moved and she saw the view she knew so well, over the valley.

  A one-eyed man came riding a chariot. He held a king’s sceptre aloft and fire followed in the sky behind him. Ranks of soldiers marched on either side. The sunlight danced on the tips of their spears, and he fixed her with his one good eye. My brother’s servant is coming. He wants to end your reign before it has begun. I am sorry, child.

  Devra greeted her at the cave mouth. The gathered officials could see in her face that her vision had been real.

  “She’s a true Prophet Emperor!” they cried.

  She looked beyond them and saw her parents waiting behind the officials, with proud smiles on their faces. Petyr beamed beside them.

  “Which of your ministers will you speak to first?” Devra asked, narrowing his eyes as he read her expression. He understood something was wrong. “Roads, schools, taxation... Which will it be?”

  Thalia looked beyond them, to the battlements of the walls. Were they high enough? She looked down the valley, from where the king had fixed her with his one good eye. Sadness filled her as she replied:

  “Bring me my generals. Tell the priests to wake the spider golems. The Northern king is coming, and fire follows him.”