Chapter 1
AMARIA
The Sorting would begin at dusk. And if the Enforcers reached the Rhain boy before we did—if they saw the mark rising beneath his collarbone—there'd be no questions. No mercy. Just a sentence straight to the Veil Mines.
My satchel dragged heavier with each step—three wax-sealed vials, enough to blur his mark for a day. Maybe two. Enough to damn me if found. My own mark was covered, but it pulsed anyway—low and savage.
Some scars stay hidden. Others demand to be seen. I wasn't sure which mine wanted.
Serenya moved at my flank—silent, steady. Two girls, one mission, and a satchel full of treason.
Then the bells rang out.
Three strikes. Sharp. Exact.
A shutter slammed.
Charcoal scattered across the stones.
A child bolted.
The Enforcer sweep.
They were checking for caste violations. Anyone who dared act above their station, or hide what they were. Serenya caught my eye. We knew the rules of this game: keep your hands visible, your spine straight, and chin high. Like you're not waiting to be dragged out for inspection at any moment. A flicker surged through me though—searing and hungry. Part of me wanted it. Let them try. Let it end in blood. I crushed the urge down the best I could and grasped the amulet beneath my collar. The metal burned from my skin's heat, reminding me it was more of a shackle than a shield.
The pale blue of my cloak marked me as Luminar. True enough. On the surface. But surface truths had a way of unraveling under scrutiny. I kept walking. I would not be caught. Not yet—not with a child's life waiting at the end of this path.
Beside me, Serenya kept pace in the shadows.
I didn't have to look. I trusted her rhythm more than my own.
Maybe because I remembered the first time she chose to match it.
A ravine. Blood dripping from my chin. Boys with stones.
I'd stepped between them and something soft—something they wanted to break. Serenya. I took the first rock to the face. The second. The third shattered my jaw, and when I lunged, theyscattered like the cowards they were.
I collapsed after that. Drifted. Until small, stubborn hands pulled me back—cool fingers on the swelling, tending wounds I'd earned protecting her.
Then she slapped me.
"This is not the place for a nap. On your feet."
So much for soft and fragile.
She'd said I shouldn't have done it—but she said it like a vow, not a reprimand.
One we never broke.
Her footsteps beside me now pulled me back—same rhythm, same vow, years later and still holding.
Midnight-blue Enforcers in silver-banded helms fanned out across the outer quarter, capes snapping like they'd rehearsed it. They moved door to door, boots in perfect rhythm. The kind of precision that only exists when someone's terrified of getting it wrong.
One stepped into the path of the male ahead of us, a merchant we'd traded with once in the inner quarter, and barked the command that turned every soul to stone: "Sternum."
The Soulmark-check.
My focus snapped in. I stepped forward—measured, casual—just enough to bump the merchant's shoulder with mine. His bundle dipped—low enough to cover his mark. One more second, one more inch, and the whole street would've seen.
