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)
"You don't know a thing about me."
He leans closer, and I can feel the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. "You expect them to make a hero out of you. You'll be a weapon. An instrument of war. A scythe to reap the lives of thousands. Is that what you volunteered for?"
"I'm not here for Empire," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. "I'm here because—" I snap my mouth shut.
No. He doesn't deserve an explanation. Nobody here does.
For a moment, the hostility in his eyes dims, replaced by something that looks almost like curiosity.
"Don't get in my way," he finally says, his voice low. "Whatever your reasons, this place will kill you soon enough."
"Is that a threat?" I ask.
The ghost of a smile touches his lips. "It's a fact."
Before I can respond, a commotion at the front of the hall draws everyone's attention. The burned volunteer steps back, his expression closing off entirely.
He turns to leave.
"Wait," I call after him. "What's your name?"
He pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder. For a moment, I think he won't answer.
"Raith," he finally says, the name landing like a challenge. Then he's gone, disappearing into the crowd as guards enter, followed by students in fitted black uniforms with silver trim.
"What was that about?" Mireen whispers, staring after him.
"I have no idea," I say honestly. But the imprint of his gaze lingers on my skin like a brand, and I can still feel the unnatural heat radiating from him. Something about our exchange leaves me unsettled—and not just because of his hostility. There was something in his eyes when I said I wasn't here for Empire. It was almost calculating, and I wonder if I would've been better off letting him think he understood me. Do I really want a man like that feeling curious enough to keep an eye on me?
But there's no use because I suspect I already have his attention.
A hush falls over the hall as seven primals stride in, each accompanied by an elemental creature. The temperature shifts instantly, patches of cold sweeping through the gathered crowd.
I gawk at the creatures in their wake.
They come in all shapes and sizes. A wolf twice the size of a man made of pure water with sapphire eyes. A large eagle formed of swirling air currents. A thick serpent made of stone, flapping through the air on craggy wings as if it were weightless. There's even a fiery bird like a phoenix soaring above the group.
I've never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying—like watching destruction and creation dance together in perfect harmony.
Primals are something people whisper about—forces of death and destruction in the deepest, most dangerous battles of the endless war between Empire and Red Kingdom. Actually seeing them in the flesh makes me feel like I'm in a dream.
But are these even fully fledged primals ready for war? They don't look much older than us, making me wonder if they aren't even finished with their training yet. Whatever they are, they still seem terrifyingly powerful, and their elementals all look capable of shredding or crushing us if they wished it.
"Listen carefully," a primal marked with a glowing white swirl of air marked on the back of his left hand says. He steps forward, his voice somehow amplified as a huge bear made of swirling winds prowls behind him. "Legacies will proceed directly to the feast hall for dormitory assignments and orientation. Aspirants will report to Commander Starke for combat assessment."
The "legacies" and "aspirants," who seem to have already been given clean and well-made black uniforms, file out quietly. The legacies wear uniforms trimmed in silver and gold, while the aspirants have only the silver trim.
Among the group of legacies, one boy stands slightly apart. Unlike his peers who show off their elemental tricks, he observes with a measured stillness. He's tall, blonde, and looks almost too pretty to be attractive. Almost.
When his nearly white eyes sweep across the mass of offerings, they linger briefly on me—not with disdain but with curiosity.
I feel myself blush, almost as if I'm worried he could hear my thoughts somehow. But then I realize he's just looking at the "V" on my chest, and his attention makes more sense.
"Offerings," the older student continues, his expression solemn. "You stand at the threshold of a great honor—the test of elemental affinity. Those who pass will join the ranks of Empire's most elite. Those who do not..." he pauses, his gaze sweeping over us, "will have given their lives in service to Empire. Remember, to be chosen as an offering is itself a profound distinction. This is not a punishment. This is the greatest opportunity you could ever hope to be granted. Remember that."
The words sound noble, but the cold reality behind them isn't lost on any of us. Many, if not all of us, are sentenced to death, and our sentence is about to be carried out.