Nine
I’ve retreated to my room to hide like the coward I am.
I curl up on the bed with my knees drawn tight to my chest while the soft hum of the Embrace fills the silence around me.
Even with my eyes shut, the afterimage of the corridor light still writhes beneath my eyelids.
I focus on my breathing instead, counting each slow exhale, willing my heart to settle.
It never does.
Every time I begin to calm, I remember Kael’s voice, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the rough drag of his fingers over my skin, and my thoughts unravel all over again.
The fissure in the ceiling catches my attention before I spiral too far. It looks larger now, angrier. Smaller fractures branch away from the centre line, thin veins of gold threading through the stone as though my lack of control is still infecting this place.
The crack pulses faintly while I stare at it, reminding me that I am not safe here. Not even from myself.
A soft knock breaks the silence and I flinch.
I don’t answer, but the door opens anyway.
Marissa slips inside with hesitant movements, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her sleeve.
She lingers near the doorway like she expects me to send her away, but I tilt my head towards the empty space beside me instead.
Her expression softens with relief, and she crosses the room quietly to sit on the edge of the bed, our knees barely brushing.
Neither of us speaks at first. It’s strangely nice. Peaceful, almost. My mind is too tangled to survive conversation, and judging by the tension in her shoulders, hers isn’t much better.
“Luceris,” she says eventually, her voice so quiet I barely recognise it.
“Mmm?”
She picks absently at her nails. “What happened with you and Kael? Callen said you got really hurt.”
I almost laugh. I want to tell her nothing happened, that everything is fine, but the lie burns in my throat before it even reaches my mouth. I’ve spent my entire life hiding things, but somehow it feels harder here, maybe because death suddenly feels close enough to touch.
“Nothing happened,” I say anyway. “Callen and Morwen got into trouble. I helped them out.”
Marissa folds her arms. “By getting yourself beaten half to death?”
“If that’s the version Callen told you, then apparently so.”
That earns the faintest twitch of amusement from her.
“You’re lucky we can’t die in here,” she mutters. “He said Kael practically tore the room apart getting to you.”
Something twists unexpectedly in my chest.
“I’ll need to speak to Callen about the stories he tells children.”
Her expression hardens immediately. “I’m not a child.”
The words come too quickly for her to mean them casually, and guilt twists quietly in my stomach. “I know,” I say softly.
She exhales through her nose and looks away. “Kael’s always watching you.”
I stiffen before I can stop myself.
“People don’t usually look at someone the way he looks at you," she says.
“I think he just wants to kill me first,” I say lightly. “To prove a point.”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “He wouldn’t have stepped in if he wanted you dead.”
“Maybe he’s trying to lower my guard first.”
I mean it as a joke, but I’m no longer entirely convinced it is one.
Marissa studies me carefully. “The way he looks at you is strange.”
I look away before she notices the heat climbing into my face.
“Has he hurt you?” she asks quietly after a moment.
“No,” I say. “Not really.”
Not in the ways that matter.
“He just wants to know why I can’t channel.”
She goes quiet then, thinking. I know where her thoughts have drifted: the Choosing, the Blessed, the things she overheard.
When she finally speaks again, her voice is careful. “Do you really have no Mana?”
I press my palms together instinctively, remembering the familiar weight of the bands around my wrists. The absence of them still feels odd.
“Marissa,” I say slowly, “can you keep a secret?”
Her eyes widen instantly. “Of course.”
“You cannot tell anyone. Not even Callen.”
“I swear.”
I wait for the fear to stop clawing at my throat before I continue, but it doesn’t. “The Blessed lied,” I admit quietly. “Or maybe they just pretended—I don’t know.”
I swallow. “I can channel. I always could.” The words feel dangerous the moment they leave me. “But something about it is... wrong. Inhibitium never worked on me. And when I lose control—” My eyes flick towards the cracks in the ceiling. “That happens.”
For a second she only stares at me. Then excitement explodes across her face so suddenly it almost startles me. “Luceris, that’s incredible.”
I blink at her. “Incredible isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
“Why would you hide that?”
“Because I assumed the Blessed would kill me for it. Or worse.” The words come out flatter than I intend. “At the Choosing they called me an anomaly. I’ve spent my whole life hiding.”
The room falls quiet again as Marissa glances towards the fractures running across the floor and ceiling, her curiosity overtaking her fear almost immediately.
“You made those?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frustrates me more than it does her.
“It just—” I struggle for the words. “Builds inside me. When I’m frightened or angry or overwhelmed, it feels like the Mana is trying to fight its way out.”
“And here?”
I laugh softly, without humour. “Here it barely stops.”
She chews nervously on her lower lip. “Maybe you could learn to control it.”
“I don’t want to.”
The sharpness in my voice makes her flinch, and regret follows immediately after.
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for her hand. “I just... I don’t want any of this, Marissa. I don’t care about power. I just want us to survive.”
She squeezes my fingers gently. “So do I.”
For a while neither of us speaks.
She leans against my shoulder eventually, small and warm beside me, and something painful twists in my chest. Part of me wants to keep her here forever, safe from the trials, safe from everything waiting beyond this room.
She lifts her head slightly. “Do you like him?”
I nearly choke. “What?”
“Kael.”
There’s a wicked sort of delight in her smile now. “You stare at him too, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I answer, but far too quickly, and Marissa laughs outright.
“Luceris, you can barely look at him without blushing.”
Heat floods my face immediately, proving her point.
“He’s a monster,” I mutter.
Even saying it feels weak.
“Monsters can still be beautiful."
The image of him flashes through my mind instantly: blood-spattered, furious, terrifying. And yes, beautiful.
“He’s not like us,” I say quietly.
“No,” Marissa agrees. “But he looks at you like you’re important.”
I laugh under my breath. “He barely knows me.”
“Maybe that doesn’t matter.”
She says it so easily that I know she still believes in things like love and fate. I wish I could.
“Only one of us survives this place,” I remind her softly.
Her smile fades. “I know.”
The silence that follows feels heavier than before.
“If it comes down to it,” I say eventually, “I want you to live.”
Her eyes widen immediately. “Luceris—”
“I mean it.”
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.”
I force a smile I don’t entirely feel. “But I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.”
Emotion finally cracks through the composure she’s been clinging to all evening. She curls into me, trembling slightly.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “What if I freeze?”
I wrap my arms around her automatically. “You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
I close my eyes briefly. “Then I’ll protect you.”
The promise settles heavily between us. It’s too large. Too impossible.
But I mean it anyway.
We sit together beneath the fractured ceiling for a long time after that, tracing the glowing fractures overhead.
For a little while, I almost believe survival is still possible.
I expect to dread dinner, but the communal hall has a strange calm about it. Tables are set with finery: bowls of soup, thick-cut bread, and ornate glass goblets filled with the clearest water I’ve ever seen.
The hunger twisting inside me is for more than food. I want noise. Company. Anything that makes this place feel less like a tomb.
Marissa sticks close to me as we slip into the room, trailing a hand along the high backs of the chairs.
Callen is already here, sitting beside Morwen and the rest of the Water Offerings.
Marissa lets go of me only to position herself in the space on Callen’s other side, leaving me to sit opposite beside Lyssandra.
The Waterborn alone sit untouched by the tension gripping the room.
Lyssandra’s face remains smooth and unreadable beneath the shimmer of her pale hair.
Theon sits across the way, delicately twirling a dinner knife between his fingers.
Morwen sits silent and watching, her deep blue eyes only occasionally glancing in Callen’s direction.
To my left, the Airborn boys seat themselves, greeting us with polite smiles. Alaris wears his smile like armour, and Fen’s attention flits around like a firefly trapped in a jar.
The last boy, Sorin, is new to me—tall and so thin I can see the severe edge of his collarbones through his tunic. His fingers move restlessly, occasionally skittering up and down his arms.
We eat in silence for a few peaceful minutes.
The only sounds are the scrape of utensils and the grumbling of someone’s stomach.
The food is delicious, tastier than it has any right to be.
Warm enough that I almost forget where we are.
I watch Lyssandra lift her spoon from the corner of my eye.
The soup ripples with the movement, but her mouth never quite reaches it.
Sorin, on the other hand, eats with an almost greedy intensity, like he’s never been fed before and may never have the chance to eat again.
He glances up from his bowl suddenly, eyes flicking to me.
“You must be Luceris,” he says, his voice a soft rasp. “I’m Sorin. I saw you in the Dome yesterday, fighting that Shadowborn. I don’t think he expected you to fight back like that.”