THE OMEN GIRL | Wattys 2020 Winner

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We dismount from the tower, and gather back before Brother Marat.

He smiles a kindly smile at all of us, and says, "Let us recite, then, the Nine Ahs, and so open the way for the Choosing."

He closes his eyes, unfurls his arms, and begins to story-sing.

Hrah, adopting joy in the coming future. Sha, to be complete or whole. Sav, of not giving in to anger even in the face of provocation.

Sahd, a helping hand; a blow to the head. Tahv, choosing goodness over evil. Rahv, to be loyal and devoted and firm in truth. Anvah, humble to and compassionate of others' struggles and shortcomings. Enkrah, to manage one's actions, thoughts, and emotions.

The reigning Ah of Ahavah – to seek someone's wellbeing without expecting anything in return.

The recitation ends. The sanctum resounds with it still.

"The Choosing," Brother Marat begins, "requires a surrendering, a humbling, and a giving up of what separates us from stars. Our souls must first be aligned through the Ahs, yes, but now our bodies, as well. Surrender to the star your sight. Humble your hearing to it. Give up the feel of your robes against your skin and the taste of the air upon your tongue."

People shift. Somewhere to my side, Roaz speaks up. His voice clips harsh in the echo of the space.

"We need to go deaf and blind and whatever else for this?"

"Correct." Brother Marat's smile is still kindly. "But only for the duration of the Choosing, until you have properly bonded with your star."

"So we get everything back after?"

"Correct. With a few stray exceptions, of course."

"What?"

People are grumbling now. Some are already panicked.

Brother Marat holds up his hands, hands dark with age and full of veins, and he soothes, "In my many decades overseeing the Choosing, I have only ever witnessed such exceptions twice. The first was a most troubled young man – one horribly misaligned. Yet he was able to regain his senses after an extended stay in the proper medical facilities."

"The other was discovered to have been a criminal, a murderer. Only the stars know why he was allowed to pass the Joining in the first place."

Criminal. Murderer.

I fist my hands against my robes. Cold ruptures over my skin, and for the first time in a long while, I can feel my omen stain stir. I try not to tremble.

Roaz's brassy voice claps over the murmuring and gasps. "So what happened to him?"

"Unfortunately," the old man answers, "the star never returned his senses to him. And he was beyond aid. Unable to connect at all with the world around him, he passed shortly after."

A world devoid of sight, sound, taste. A world where your skin transfers nothing at all. A consciousness in a vacuum.

Death would be kinder.

"So as long as we're not filthy Omens, we'll be okay?"

"The man was not an Omen," Brother Marat says. "But I understand your meaning. And, yes. You are correct."

Roaz sniffs. He crosses his arms. I see him tick his eyes over to me, then, me underneath my veil and mask, and I'm reminded of his glare on me during the interview.

A smile curves over his face. It is a mean slash of a thing.

"I think our Veil should go, first."