Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
The last thing I want to do is trust anyone here, but I can’t see a way out. I either have to trust Bastian or the guard. The choice seems obvious.
Adrenaline pumps through me as I withdraw my hand from my pocket.
The silver spiral gleams with its own magical light, shifting and flowing like liquid metal across my skin. It moves with a life of its own, coiling and uncoiling in an endless dance.
Bastian's eyes widen, not with fear but with something else I can't place. His breath catches audibly.
"Extraordinary," he whispers, reaching toward my hand before stopping himself. "But... you're an offering. Your mother or father weren't primals?"
I shake my head, not understanding the question.
"Fascinating." He scratches his chin, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"You know what this means?" I ask, voice barely audible. "Because I sure as hell don't, and I—"
"I think I do, yes. There’s a book in my family library with this symbol on the cover. I’ll send for it, but it may take some time. Weeks, possibly.”
Weeks. Will I even be alive weeks from now? The way this place seems to feed on fear and death, it's hard to imagine surviving until tomorrow, let alone for weeks. But I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I nod my head and smile. "Thank you."
Bastian hardly seems to hear me. He's still speaking, almost to himself. "It should be possible for you to disguise it."
"What?" I ask. "How would I do that?" Does he really remember all of this from some old book, or is there more at play, here?
"Just..." he looks around again, then pulls me deeper into a private alcove. When his fingers brush my arm, I feel a jolt like lightning, stronger than when he touched me before the trial. The silver mark flares in response. Energy, cool and flowing like air seems to fill me.
Bastian pulls his hand back as if burned, eyes shifting to my mark warily, but the concern vanishes almost instantly. "Close your eyes, clear your senses, and focus on the mark. Your life will be easier if you pick water or air. But whatever you choose, try to visualize the mark changing."
I don’t bother questioning if it’s possible. I need it to be. I need some way to hide this, so I close my eyes and think about which mark to choose. Which affinity.
Earth and fire are historically dominant elements in Red Kingdom. Choosing them would mean a lifetime of reactions like the one Mireen gave Nolan before the trial. It would mean suspicion and increased scrutiny.
It’s like Bastian said… my life will be easier if I pick water or air, even if neither element represents what I feel inside.
I still feel like fire, ready to lash out and burn everything around me to ash after the last few days. But that's not the normal me. It's not the girl who grew up loving her time on the waters in Saltcrest's bay. The girl who spent half her life reading currents and finding fish.
In the end, choosing anything but water would feel like running from my past. And maybe this place is going to claim my life before long, but I’m done running.
I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking about my father and brothers. I picture the flowing wave pattern I've seen on other hands. I reach for the memory of salt spray on my face, the rhythm of waves against our small boat, the peace I used to feel watching the tide roll in.
A sensation like icy fingers crawls across my palm. My skin stretches and pulls as if being remolded by invisible hands. Heat flashes through my veins, followed by bone-deep cold, then both at once. I clench my teeth around a grunt of pain, brows furrowing as I focus through the discomfort until the sensations finally subside.
When I open my eyes, the mark has changed—appearing as a blue wave on my palm. Looking closely, I can still see threads of silver tracing through it like veins of quicksilver, but unless someone was specifically looking for them, they'd never notice.
"How did I—" I stare at my hand in disbelief.
Bastian flashes a half-smile, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes. "Water. Okay. I guess you didn't want to be an air like me?"
I shake my head, still staring at the disguised mark. "What does this all mean?"
His voice drops low. "Just know this: if the wrong person finds out about your mark, it would be... trouble. You have to learn to keep it hidden. Tell no one."
"Why do I feel like you know more than you're saying?" I search his face for answers.
His expression turns guarded. "I’ve heard whispers. But I won’t worry you with rumors because they may do just as much harm as good. I’ll send for the book. Try to stay alive until then and keep this hidden. With luck, the book will give us some answers about what this means.”