Five #4
“I think you do.” The words sound uncomfortably familiar after this morning.
She lifts one pale hand slowly towards me, palm open, and instinct makes me step backwards before she can touch me.
For the first time, something shifts in her expression. She isn’t angry, but—surprised.
Gently, she reaches forward again and places her hand flat against the centre of my chest. Her skin is freezing, and I suck in a sharp breath as something beneath my ribs reacts violently to the contact.
Mana pulses through me hard enough that my vision flickers gold for half a second.
The woman recoils immediately—not dramatically, but her eyes widen slightly as she stares at me with something dangerously close to alarm.
Around us, the Dome begins to quiet. People are watching.
“What’s wrong?” Marissa asks nervously.
The Waterborn woman doesn’t answer at first. Her gaze remains fixed on me as though she’s trying to understand something impossible.
Finally, she steps back.
“There is something unusual inside you,” she says quietly. “Your Mana churns like the deep ocean. You... resist it.”
The words are too close to a truth I’d rather avoid.
“My name is Lyssandra.”
“Luceris,” I reply automatically.
Her expression softens slightly at that, though uncertainty still lingers behind it. Before either of us can say anything else, laughter cuts sharply across the Dome.
The Fireborn.
The older one pushes himself away from the weapon rack he’d been leaning against, amusement written plainly across his face as he watches us.
“What a pathetic little gathering,” he drawls loudly.
The two younger Fireborn behind him laugh immediately, and every conversation in the Dome begins to die around us.
The man walks towards us without hurry, broad shoulders rolling with loose confidence. This close, he feels even larger than before. Heat radiates from his body in steady waves, carrying the faint scent of smoke and metal.
Callen shifts subtly beside me.
Lyssandra doesn’t move at all, even as the Fireborn stops directly in front of her.
“You people disgust me,” he says conversationally. “All that kneeling and praying while everyone else does the killing for you.”
She stands with her arms at her sides, her eyes locked forward. “My beliefs are my own. It is not your place to decide how we honour our Crown.”
The Fireborn sneers, his face inches from hers. “I wish I could kill you all right now, but that will have to wait. Unless—”
He pauses, eyes drifting from face to face. “—you want a taste of how it will feel?”
Lyssandra doesn’t react. Her voice remains calm and measured. “I am the Willing Water, flowing towards the Mother Shard. My brother and sister and I will give our lives as our faith demands.”
“Your faith is pathetic,” he spits.
Lyssandra’s expression never changes. “My faith is not your concern.”
“No,” he agrees. “But watching it collapse might become one.”
Flame flickers suddenly above his palm, small and controlled, threatening regardless.
Several Overseers drift closer around the edges of the Dome, their fractured faces turning towards the confrontation with silent interest.
“You dishonour the Blood Rites,” the Fireborn continues. “The Mother Shard wants a Champion. Some of us intend to prove we’re worthy.”
Lyssandra holds his gaze steadily. “And some of us understand sacrifice.”
Something ugly flashes briefly across his face at that. The fire above his hand brightens, and I move before I fully think about it.
One second Lyssandra stands alone in front of him, and the next, I’m between them.
The Fireborn looks genuinely surprised.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls. “A Lightborn with a spine.”
His eyes drag slowly over me, amused now in a far more dangerous way. “Do you know what we call your people back home?” he asks. “First to die.”
Heat rolls harder off the fire gathering around his hand.
I force myself not to step backwards. The Overseers said we couldn’t die here. Pain, however, is still a reality.
The Fireborn smiles slightly before throwing the fire directly at me.
Everything happens too fast after that. The flame crosses the distance between us in a violent blur of orange and white. But before it reaches me, the world drops several degrees colder, and shadow erupts upwards from the polished floor between us like a living thing.
The fire vanishes on impact—not extinguished. Swallowed.
Gasps ripple across the Dome as the darkness twists once before collapsing back into nothing, revealing Kael standing a few feet away with one hand still slightly raised.
Stunted silence fills the room. Even the Fireborn looks caught off guard.
Kael lowers his hand slowly, his expression remaining calm, almost bored, but something dangerous moves beneath it now.
The Fireborn’s jaw tightens. “Stay out of this.”
Kael completely ignores the warning, his gaze drifting briefly towards me before returning to the Fireborn.
“You will not harm this one, Atheron.”
The entire Dome seems to still around the words.
Kael’s mouth curves into the faintest hint of a smile.
“He’s mine.”