“Don’t give him a choice. You’re Mari Ahlai. What’s a dead lion compared to my little sister?”

“Stubborn, is what he is,” Mari said. “But I’m attending a new ritual later today, so maybe he’ll finally give me a listen.”

Stasia wished her well and then returned to her training. Mari stepped out to the streets of Vallessau. If she was to hear the whispers of Thanet’s fallen god, she needed to be immersed in its people, its back alleys, and its quiet dealings. She had a name and an image to focus upon, and let it direct her wandering steps.

“Endarius,” she whispered as she closed her eyes while standing before a tavern not yet ready to open for the new day. The wooden sign sporting the tavern’s name was scuffed beyond repair, but she saw the faintest hints of a red-and-white feather painted into a chipped corner. “You’re lurking, I feel it, but where?”

Two years had passed since the Everlorn Empire conquered the island nation of Thanet. During those bloody years, the Uplifted Church and its priests and magistrates had scrubbed every reference to its gods from the land. To speak Lycaena’s name was criminal. To bear an image of the feathered lion invited whippings, and you risked far worse if you carried any of the now-banned religious tracts. But no matter how hard the church tried, the people remembered. The imperials could not replace the old gods, not immediately. Given time, and the birth of new generations, the decay would sink in. The people of Thanet, like other conquered nations of the Everlorn Empire, would pledge their hearts to the God-Incarnate and disregard the old gods as blasphemous and irrelevant.

Mari traced her fingers along a red feather drawn with colored chalk across a stone wall. The image was hidden in a dark alley, far from potential patrols. A member of the church might find it, in time. Until then, it was a burning reminder of the slain god, and as the red rubbed onto her fingertips, she heard the faintest sound of a lion’s roar.

“Not dead,” Mari wondered aloud. “Not gone. Why won’t you come to me then? Why avoid my call?”

Ever since arriving on Thanet, Mari had whispered for the Lion to hear her, to entreat with her. Yet he refused. He always refused.

“That’s right, a great feast!” shouted a city crier. Mari’s wandering path had taken her from district to district until she passed through the bustling heart of the city. The crier waved small, yellow-leaf pamphlets above his head and urged anyone interested to take them. “Feasting, songs, and games! Come early if you want the best spot to witness the ceremony!”