Page 28 of The Blood Rites

She shakes her head once, breathing unevenly now. “I’m so scared,” she breathes, the words escaping in a choked gasp. “This is a mistake. They didn’t mean for this to happen.”

An uncontrollable sob rises within her, and she gulps it back.

“Who?” I ask, confusion twisting its way through my thoughts.

“My… parents,” she manages between breaths, her eyes wide with fear. “They lied.”

My pulse lodges itself in my throat.

“I’m only sixteen.”

Sixteen.

Too young. Far too young.

Something cold twists violently in my chest as the full weight of it settles over me. Marissa already looked younger than the rest of us, but hearing it spoken aloud changes something. Makes this all feel suddenly uglier.

She begins crying properly then, shoulders shaking beneath the effort to contain it.

I pull her against me automatically.

“It’s alright,” I whisper, though I don’t believe the words any more than she does. “I’ll protect you.”

The promise leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

Callen looks away quietly.

And deep down, somewhere beneath the fear and exhaustion and the lingering echo of Kael’s voice, I realise I mean it.

The Dome buzzes with restless energy by the time we arrive.

Rows of white lights curve high above the training hall, casting hard reflections across the polished floor beneath our feet. The space is enormous, larger even than the entrance chamber, with weapon racks lining the walls and raised viewing platforms circling the upper levels like balconies overlooking an arena. Everything gleams with the same impossible perfection as the rest of the Embrace.

Nothing here feels built by human hands.

Offerings scatter naturally towards their own Dominions the moment they enter. No one says it aloud, but the divisions are already forming. Fireborn remain with Fireborn. Waterborn with Waterborn. Everyone clings to what little familiarity they still have left.

The Overseers drift soundlessly through the space, watching.

I try not to stare at the others too openly, but curiosity keeps dragging my attention away from the sword Callen has pressed into my hands.

I’ve never seen Mana used like this before. Lightborn Mana doesn't harm. Just shields and barriers for protection. This is nothing like that.

The Fireborn fight each other without hesitation, sparks and embers bursting through the air every few seconds as steel and flame collide. Heat rolls off them in waves strong enough that I can feel it from halfway across the Dome. One of the younger men hurls a jet of flame towards another’s face, laughing when the other barely avoids it.

No one intervenes.

The Earthborn train more methodically nearby, the walls shuddering faintly beneath heavy strikes from fists of rock and thrown boulders.

Above them, one of the Airborn launches himself several feet into the air in a sharp burst of pressure before landing lightly back on the polished floor.

Everywhere I look, people are sharpening their skills.

Marissa stays close beside me, visibly overwhelmed by the chaos around us. Callen seems calmer, though I notice the way his eyes constantly track the stronger Offerings whenever they unleash their Mana. “They’ve done this before,” he mutters quietly.

I know exactly what he means. Not the Rites themselves, but the fighting. The violence. The Fireborn move like men raised for war.

Across the Dome, Kael leans against one of the marble pillars with his arms folded loosely across his chest. Unlike the others, he isn’t training at all. He simply watches.