Only the Worthy Read Online Free PDF

husband beside her, the two
frantically reciting their prayers, feeling no other recourse during this
uncanny storm. It felt as if the end of the world were upon them. The blood red
moon was a dire omen in and of itself—but appearing together with a storm like
this, well, it was more than uncanny. It was unheard of. Something momentous,
she knew, was afoot.
    They knelt there
together, gales of wind and snow whipping their faces, and she prayed for
protection for their family. For mercy. For forgiveness for anything she may
have done wrong.
    A pious woman, Mithka
had lived many sun cycles, had several children, had a good life. A poor life,
but a good one. She was a decent woman. She had minded her business, had looked
after others, and had never done harm to anyone. She prayed that God would
protect her children, her household, whatever meager belongings they had. She
leaned over and placed her palms in the snow, closed her eyes, and then bent
low, touching her head to the ground. She prayed to God to show her a sign.
    Slowly, she
lifted her head. As she did, her eyes widened and her heart slammed at the
sight before her.
    “Murka!” she
hissed.
    Her husband
turned and looked at it, too, and both knelt there, frozen, staring in
astonishment.
    It couldn’t be
possible. She blinked several times, and yet there it was. Before them, carried
in the water’s current, was a floating basket.
    And in that
basket was a baby.
    A boy.
    His screams
pierced the night, rose even above the storm, above the impossible claps of
thunder and lightning, and each scream pierced her heart.
    She jumped into
the river, wading in deep, ignoring the icy waters, like knives on her skin,
and grabbed the basket, fighting her way against the current and back toward
shore. She looked down and saw the baby was meticulously wrapped in a blanket,
and that he was, miraculously, dry.
    She examined him
more closely and was astonished to see a gold pendant around his neck, two
snakes circling a moon, a dagger between them. She gasped; it was one she
recognized immediately.
    She turned to
her husband.
    “Who would do
such a thing?” she asked, horrified, as she held him tight against her chest.
    He could only
shake his head in wonder.
    “We must take
him in,” she decided.
    Her husband
frowned and shook his head.
    “How?” he
snapped. “We cannot afford to feed him. We can barely afford to feed us. We
have three boys already—what do we need with a fourth? Our time raising
children is done.”
    Mithka, thinking
quick, snatched the thick gold pendant and placed it in his palm, knowing,
after all these years, what would impress her husband. He felt the weight of
the gold in his hand, and he clearly looked impressed.
    “There,” she
snapped back, disgusted. “There’s your gold. Enough gold to feed our family
until we’re all old and dead,” she said sternly. “I am saving this baby—whether
you like it or not. I will not leave him to die.”
    He still
frowned, though less certain, as another lightning bolt struck above and he
studied the skies with fear.
    “And do you
think it’s a coincidence?” he asked. “A night like this, such a baby comes into
this world? Have you any idea who you are holding?”
    He looked down
at the child with fear. And then he stood and backed away, finally turning his
back and leaving, gripping the pendant, clearly displeased.
    But Mithka would
not give in. She smiled at the baby and rocked him to her chest, warming his
cold face. Slowly, his crying calmed.
    “A child unlike
any of us,” she replied to no one, holding him tight. “A child who shall change
the world. And one I shall name: Royce.”

 
     
     
    PART TWO
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    17 Sun Cycles later
     
    Royce stood atop
the hill, beneath the only oak tree in these fields of grain, an ancient thing
whose limbs seemed to reach to the sky, and he looked deeply into Genevieve’s
eyes, deeply in love. They held hands as she smiled back at him, and as