Chapter 32
The day of the Culling, I woke with a start, heart already pounding. Edith slept beside me. She, Nelly, and Thyme had chosen to stay with me that night, none of us knowing what I’d face come morning.
I started to panic. My mouth was dry. My hands were cold. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready. I wasn’t a killer. I wasn’t a warrior. I was a ribbon dancer who could sing a little. An Azure. A yin.
I could hear Nelly moving around. The delicious smell of tea and sweet bread wafted over to me. She must have brought up our breakfast. The window rattled as she slid open the curtains.
Suddenly, she screamed. Something crashed. I jolted upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. A mess of tea, bread, fruit, and meat lay on the floor. Our breakfast.
Nelly was scrambling away from the window, pointing at something outside with a shaking finger. “What in rust’s name is that?!”
I pushed out of bed, nearly tripping over the blankets tangled around my feet, and rushed to the window as Edith followed close behind.
At first, I thought it was a cloud. A storm front, heavy and black, stretched across the sky. But it was moving wrong. Coiling and shifting in slow, deliberate arcs.
The silhouette of a serpent.
It spanned the entire horizon. As it moved, nine separate heads broke free from the mass, each one different. One dripped what looked like black rain, another hissed winds that bent the trees below, another shed flakes of ice that floated down like poisonous snow.
The serpent’s eyes glowed faintly in the gloom as the sky became a strange color, a sickly twilight, the serpent blocking out the sun.
Nelly whimpered behind me.
The Serpent Lord was coming back. And he wanted everyone to know it today, the day of the Culling.
A crack of sound rang through the heavy air.
A spear of light shot into the sky. It was a blinding, narrow beam that twisted and spun as it rose, burning a path straight through the heart of the serpent’s smoky body.
Wherever the light touched, the darkness unraveled, until the image of the serpent was no more.
I pressed my hand to the windowpane, hardly daring to breathe. Nelly and Edith were both riveted as well. As my eyes adjusted to the brilliance, I saw the shape at the heart of the light.
The Diviner.
She floated high above the town, her crimson robes billowing around her.
She bore no wings, hovering as if the sky itself held her aloft.
From her outstretched hands, light spun, directed by the slow, deliberate turns of her wrists.
But her form flickered more than usual, edges wavering, like her strength had been drained.
And then her voice spoke inside my mind, startling me. It came in fragments, stuttering and fading in and out, without her customary calm authority.
“The Serpent Lord wants us to be afraid. You see that even now, he has gained strength via his demons, who siphon power to him. He has grown enough to display his shadow, although he does not yet have the power to fully manifest. The battle has begun. We, the Diviner, hail from the Immortal Realm of lesser gods, and We are not all-powerful. We need the combined power of all four dominions to heal the Anchors, but We shall not be defeated. Today is the Culling. You must pass this divine trial to become part of your dominion’s team.
This test is one of fortitude, both mental and physical.
Not of magic. Not of brute strength. Any may enter.
But know this: It shall mark you forever, in more ways than one. ”
The Diviner’s image tilted slightly, her mask catching the light, before she spoke her final words: “If you are willing to pay this price, assemble at the Arena at noon. Bring nothing with you. Once we strip everything away—your tygers, your weapons, your magic—who is left?”
Edith had arisen and closed the curtains while Nelly started cleaning up the food from the floor.
“Don’t worry about this, dear,” Edith said. “I’ll handle it. Why don’t you get us a new tray from the kitchen?”
Nelly gave her a shy smile and bustled out.
Edith stepped closer. Her fingers brushed against mine, barely there, then fell away. Her mouth trembled before she pressed it into a hard line. She knew there was no changing my mind. We both knew. But it didn’t stop her from trying to protect me, even now.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I didn’t answer, just held her gaze, steady and unshaken.
She sighed, then pulled me into a tight embrace.
“Sometimes fate is like a wind at our backs. If we’re not mindful, it carries us where it will, while the strong may fight it and carve their own path.
Sometimes our fate is a storm so powerful that no matter how hard we struggle, no matter how tightly we cling to the bushes and trees, it rips us free and hurls us toward our destiny. Ride the storm, Rubi.”
—
Dressed in my training clothes with the Silver Tyger embroidered on them, ribbons in my belt, I stepped out into the hall.
Only to run right into the warm chest of Blake Axefire.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, eyes darting away from him. My hands were still planted on his biceps, the feel of his leather jacket soft and supple against my palms.
“Good morning, Rubi.” He smiled, dimple showing.
Just like that, my entire body ignited with familiar warmth. “Blake.”
There was a lingering, awkward silence then, before he offered a quiet confession: “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s been only a day.”
“An hour is too long then,” he said, a smile and slight laugh in his voice. It made me flush a peek into the way he’d been in Yvonne’s house, in his room, beneath me.
It was a sign of trust, to be like this here, within the walls where he played a different role.
“I’m nervous,” I whispered.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice steady and certain. “But it is normal to feel anxiety before a battle.”
I nodded, biting down on my lip. I fiddled with the end of one of the braids Thyme had done for me this morning, two intricate plaits coiled against my head before falling over opposite shoulders. I felt battle-ready in appearance, but not in my mind. And there was no more time to prepare.
Blake cleared his throat.
“I came to walk with you to the Culling,” he said, a tinge of formality in his tone. It was enough for me to quirk an eyebrow in amusement.
Except he offered his hand.
A moment of hesitation before I took it—my palm gliding across his calloused skin. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand before pulling me carefully closer, dropping his mouth to my ear.
“My songbird,” he whispered, before pressing a kiss to my temple and breathing in. As if taking the scent of my hair with him. “Shall we go?”
—
The street was packed with warriors; their broad shoulders and battle-worn armor gleamed dully in the light. Some were older, clearly retired and back for the boon, some young and willing to prove themselves without an ounce of training.
No weapons were allowed, but several had protective sigils stitched into their clothing.
Some had scars etched across their faces and bodies, trophies of battles fought and survived.
Others stood with quiet intensity, their eyes hard and focused, exuding the calm confidence of seasoned fighters.
Yet despite their fierce appearances, there was a tension in the air, an almost imperceptible edge of unease.
Even the most battle-hardened among them couldn’t hide the slight shift of their feet or the flicker of doubt in their eyes.
Still, amid the chaos, eyes locked onto me. Fingers pointed.
“Flame Rider.”
“The tygress queen’s chosen.”
“The fake Silver.”
“The Azure Tyger Warrior.”
The words floated to me from the crowd, whispered and awed. Any who came too close or sounded too disdainful quickly hushed when their eyes met the furiously protective ones of their Ambush Master, the Twin Blade to the king, by my side.
He let go of my hand as the streets grew more packed, but he stayed close, steady as a bodyguard.
The city center was alive with noise, rickshaws rattling over the cobblestones, merchants shouting their wares, the ring of hammer on metal from a nearby smithy.
The crowd moved like a living thing, brushing past me, a mix of nervous families, grim warriors, and vendors hawking everything from sticky rice cakes to red-thread charms meant to bring luck during the trial.
The air smelled of sun-warmed brick, roast chicken, and sweat.
The Arena loomed, a massive ring of stone and fluttering silk banners, already thrumming with the energy of the coming Culling.
“Rubi!” Calla’s voice cut through the clamor.
She stood near the old fountain with Quinn, waving both her arms like she thought I might miss her. A bright smile lit up her face. Was she never afraid? I’d tucked the leather bracelet she gave me into an inner pocket, for luck, to have a piece of her fearlessness with me.
Quinn leaned against the fountain’s cracked edge, his arms folded, watching me with that familiar half smirk, before his eyes flickered to Blake at my shoulder and his expression changed into a quick scowl.
I turned to Blake, not needing to a say a word, before he leaned down close.
“Stay safe, songbird,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before backing away. “You’re not dead yet, Rubi,” he said, expression boyish.
The same words he’d said to me before the Bonding.
After watching his bronze locks a head above everyone else disappear into the crowd, I pushed my way through the press of bodies toward Calla and Quinn, my heart hammering.
“What under the Kingdom of Sky are all these people doing here?” I asked.
Quinn threw an arm over my shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze.
“Everyone wants that boon. They think they have a chance, even though only five Silvers and a handful of Azures will make it. Since our people are now scattered through the Four Dominions, Azures will be selected from them all.” He considered me. “What were you doing with Axefire?”