Tithe. The word echoed in my mind over and over like a curse. My father was a siphon, and he used his power at every tithe to transfer the power that the people of this kingdom gave. At least, that was what he was meant to do. That was the history of the tithe that I had always been told. The people sacrificed at the tithe, gave a bit of their own magic, and in return, the tithe gave back. It was meant to provide a balance that our kingdom no longer had. A balance that the rebellion had been fighting for.
