When I nod, Alex silently mutters what I assume to be a prayer as he runs his hands through his long hair. I remember what Michael had said about how it was unknown whether Yosef HaLevi had perished during the Fall of Naiot.

No one in the Families has ever heard of Naiot. My mother was married to my father for ten years, and even she had never heard of it.

I’d reread the Testament of Chorus countless times since my conversation with Michael that made me realize my father had some kind of connection to the village. But as I take in what they’re saying about him having been from a family of prophets, I start to understand that the people who died in Naiot were my family. A lot about my father makes more sense now––his emotional distance and moodiness. I can’t imagine how it must have been for him to have learned what happened to his home and family, to have lived when they had not, and to not have even be able to talk about their existence and properly mourn. My heart breaks for him.

Suddenly Alex’s eyes widen as he assesses me. He takes note of my long hair, which hasn’t been properly cut in months, and in a soft voice he asks, “Have you taken the vow?”

I shake my head. I know what he’s asking. I’d been suspecting it about myself ever since I’d learned that my father was a Nazir and what that meant, and I’d remembered the way Dad always insisted on keeping my hair trimmed.

“I will train you myself,” Alex says.

Bloche sits back down. His voice is choked as he asks, “She is also a Nazir?”

“I think she amplified me twice,” Rafe answers.

Of course, the fire when we were training. And yesterday, when he asked me to sing to help him heal….

Bloche is staring at me, his one visible eye wet. “A Sire, a Nazir, and a Prophet?”

“The Child of Three,” Alex declares.

“What? No—” I try to interject, but Rafe grips my hand tightly, silencing me.

“Isn’t the Child of Three prophesied to be Chorus’s child?” Rafe asks.

“No.” Alex shakes his head. “The prophecy says only that the child will be of her blood—which could mean any direct relation—and that she will teach them. After the Fall of Naiot and her whole family’s death, it made sense for many to assume it would be her child, but”—he is gazing at me with an awe that makes me uncomfortable—“Chorus’s mother, Psalm, was Yosef’s sister, so perhaps his child is the one that was foretold.”

“When did you turn eighteen?” Alex presses me.

My head is spinning. “Uh, three days ago.”