Dindi
Dindi woke up alone, bathed in glowing light.
All around her, the walls of the cave shimmered with glowing shapes. She saw symbols—shapes like chevrons, half moons, zigzags, arrows, squiggles. Some looked like claw marks, some like wings. They glowed in every color of the rainbow.
She touched the symbols with her fingers. Where did the light come from? She didn't know.
The glowing symbols climbed up the path in front of her, so she followed them, up a slope, toward the cave exit.
When she stepped outside, cold wind blew through her hair. She stood under the night sky. Around her were huge stones, each carved with more glowing symbols. The symbols blazed like fire against the black rock and dark sky.
"The Tor of the Stone Hedge," she whispered, spinning slowly. She remembered the Vision. Was this where the Corn Maiden had danced before her enemies? Were the other Initiates here too?
She saw shadowy figures—Tavaedies, dressed in their sacred clothes—standing between the stones. Each one held a small glowing light cupped in their hands. But their faces were hidden by the waterfalls of light streaming from every stone.
"Follow the brightest light you see," said a woman's voice.
Is it a riddle? Dindi wondered. If all the lights are bright, how can one be brightest?
She turned in a slow circle, trying to spot one stone that glowed stronger than the rest.
"If you can follow the light, do it now," said the voice. "The brightest light you see."
"But all the stones are lit!"
"Don't waste our time with excuses. The stones are not lit. If you can see the tama, then dance. If not, go to the torch."
Which one should I follow? Dindi silently asked the shining stones. Which of you can sing me the Unfinished Song?
At her thought, the stones pulsed even brighter. The light stabbed her eyes. Music crashed over her like a waterfall. It was the Unfinished Song.
Dancers burst from the stones, glowing like stars. They spun and leapt and flew through the air. Their steps were wild, beautiful, impossible. They flipped, twirled, clashed, swayed, fought, and spun again. The song became louder. The light became unbearable. Dindi couldn't see. The brightness felt like fire.
She screamed and covered her head.
"Go away! I can't take it!"
Suddenly, the darkness returned like a cool blanket. She fell to the ground. The grass was cold, wet, and sharp.
"Fool girl," said a sharp voice—it sounded just like Gwenika's mother, Zavaedi Brena. "Stop spinning in circles like an idiot. Go to the woman holding the torch!"
Still dizzy, Dindi forced herself to her feet. She stumbled over to the torchbearer.
"Present your totem," said the woman.
It was Zavaedi Brena.
Dindi waited for a Vision. Nothing happened.
She untied the little corn doll from the ribbon around her neck and handed it over.
Brena handed her a black stone bowl.
"Congratulations, Dindi, daughter of the Lost Swan clan of the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe. You are now a woman."
Dindi stared at the bowl. It was a mortar—a bowl used for grinding corn and spices. The matching piece to the pestle the boys received.
So useful… for a wife. For a mother. But it meant nothing for someone who had dreamed of becoming a Tavaedi.
Where was her windwheel? Where was her invitation?
I failed.
Her stomach twisted. Her jaw clenched and trembled. Her head throbbed like rocks were being thrown at it.
I failed. I failed. I don't have enough magic. I can never be a Tavaedi. I can never dance again.