Part 1Unbinding The Valley Keeper

Tomorrow is the day I’m to be anointed as the Keeper of the Valley.

I sat before the vanity, silently wiping the heavy makeup from my face, my heart as cold as the mountain air outside.

In our town of Blackwood Creek, there is a tradition that has survived for generations. Every decade, a set of twin girls is born to a single household. According to the old laws, the sisters’ paths are split: one is allowed to marry and leave, while the other must stay, serving as the Keeper of the Valley—a lifelong vestal protector of our heritage. She cannot marry; she cannot even step beyond the town limits.

I used to have dreams. When I got into a university in the city, I made a pact with my boyfriend, Sawyer. We agreed that when I turned twenty-two, he would come to the Creek to ask for my hand.

The day had finally arrived. I had spent hours dressing, my heart full of a frantic, hopeful joy. When I saw Sawyer’s black Maybach pull into the dusty driveway, looking utterly out of place against our rustic backdrop, I had to press a hand to my chest to keep my heart from leaping out.

But then, I heard him. He was leaning against the car door, finishing a phone call. His words were a cold blade through the drywall of my heart.

"I'm here to take Grace," he said.

There was a pause, and then he continued, "You don't understand—her parents are playing favorites. If I don't marry Grace, she’ll be stuck here. She won't survive it."

Then came the kicker, the casual dismissal that stripped me bare: "Jodie is different. She’s got her degree; she can make it on her own. Her parents adore her—they'd never force her into the Keeper role if she really fought it. She’s strong enough to handle a different life."

* * *

I sat on the edge of the bed.

A bitter, acidic feeling rose in my throat.

When we were kids, it was Grace who had promised she’d be the one to stay. She’d told me she’d take the mantle so I could go off and see the world. Because of that promise, I’d spent my life yielding to her. I gave her the best clothes, the biggest portions; I let my parents dote on her while I buried my head in books.

Even my parents leaned toward her. But I’d always thought it was okay. Freedom was the ultimate prize, and I was willing to pay for it with years of self-sacrifice. I studied until my eyes burned, squeezing every second of my life into a future that belonged to both of us.

And now, she was using my boyfriend’s pity to steal that future.

She wasn't a victim. She was a strategist. She never intended to stay in Blackwood Creek; she just wanted the rewards without the sacrifice.

I turned back to the mirror, scrubbing the foundation off in layers. The woman in the glass slowly emerged—the real me. Nothing spectacular. Just a face, eyes, a nose. Identical to Grace’s.

Yet, since we were toddlers, everyone said Grace was the "ethereal" one, the "gentle soul," the one who looked exactly like the town’s patron saint in the old chapel paintings. They called me "wild," "stubborn," and "difficult."

Same face. Different labels.

Outside, the car door slammed. Then came the footsteps, heavy and rhythmic, approaching the house.

It was Sawyer.

I didn't move. I squeezed the cotton pad in my hand, staring at the reflection until the face in the mirror felt like a stranger’s.

A knock.

"Jo?" Sawyer’s voice. "I’m here."

"Come in," I said.

The door creaked open. He froze for a second, clearly caught off guard by the sight of me in an old flannel shirt instead of the white lace dress I’d picked out for this day.

"You..." He stepped inside, looking around the room. "Why aren't you dressed?"

I looked at him through the mirror. "What are you here for, Sawyer?"

He hesitated, then forced a smile. He walked toward me. "To take you away, obviously. Isn't that what we agreed? Twenty-two. I come for you."

"Who, specifically, are you coming for?"

He stopped in his tracks.

I turned around to face him. "Sawyer, look at me. Whose hand are you here to ask for?"

The smile died on his face. He was silent for a few agonizing seconds before he finally spoke. "Jo, let me explain—"

"I don't need an explanation." I stood up, tossing the makeup pad onto the table. "I heard you on the phone. Every word."

His face went pale.

"You said Grace didn't have a degree, that she couldn't make it outside, so you had to marry her," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You said I was the strong one. That I could fend for myself, so it wouldn't matter if you left me behind."

"Jodie—"

"What you're saying," I continued, my tone flat, "is that you weighed us on a scale. You decided I was less deserving of your protection because I didn't act helpless. So you’re taking her instead."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

I knew it. He couldn't deny it because it was the truth.

We had known each other for five years. We’d been together for three. He had met Grace less than a dozen times. And yet, he’d done the math. On one side was me, and on the other was her. He decided that because I could carry the weight, I didn't need him to help me bear it.

"Sawyer," I said, stepping back. "Leave."

He frowned. "You need to calm down. I have my reasons—"

"I am perfectly calm," I said. "More calm than you can possibly imagine."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but footsteps echoed in the hallway. Then came Grace’s voice—soft, melodic, with that practiced hint of a tremor.

"Jo, I know you’re upset. But you don't understand... I didn't think..."

She pushed the door open and stood there, her eyes rimmed with red, tears trembling on her lashes. She was beautiful when she cried. She’d always been. Since we were girls, one tear from her and the world would stop to comfort her. Even I used to fall for it.

But now, I just looked at her. "Grace, you don't have to explain anything to me."

She blinked. "Jo..."

"I have no right to blame you," I said. "I was the fool. I was the one who thought promises actually meant something."

I said it to both of them.

There was a heavy silence. I picked up my phone from the nightstand. "I'm going to the chapel. You two stay here."

"Wait," Sawyer said, stepping forward. "What are you going to the chapel for?"

I didn't look back.

"To tell the Elder," I said, "that I’ll be taking part in the Anointing tomorrow. I'm staying."