CHAPTER ONE. FLAME DAY

Run. Keep running. Never stop. Burn. Keep burning.

Never stop.

Surprising, it truly was, when the silence and the

footsteps marching up the stony stairs came to a halt, only to be drowned out

by the collective thumping of every heartbeat, as we watched the sight unfold

before us in horror.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!" A scream resounded in the air from a

spectator, since the person that was thrown down from the Golden Temple could

not, given that it was a bloody head. Sheer instinct whispered to us all to dodge

the lifeless form that followed, tumbling down the stairs with a sickening

thud. The wind reeked of blood and fear, infected with doubts. Typical.

It would not be Flame Day

without a gruesome spectacle. However, we all continued walking, like a compulsion

spell had been cast on us, yet our eyes scanned the crowd ahead and behind us, wary. Eldor only knew what went on in

the minds of these savages, especially the lawless ones. The demented, wildlings,

they were the Persidians. The very colors they wore represented their

rebellion, and disobedience.

But I was certain something

else occupied every mind here, painfully, slowly, apprehensively as our fates

were going to be decided. Their fear was understandable but not shared by me. I

could not blame them, we were nothing but a pawn, entertainment to the insipid

gods. Our fates were never in our hands, but today was different.

 My high-heeled boots clicked with each step, a

sound that resonated with my determination. Millions of eighteen-year-olds travelled across from all

of Elpeca to the capital, Caramat for Flame Day,  to be told how their whole lives would be spent.

To be chosen by the Flames to serve the kingdom in the different Hoods based,

sometimes, on their strengths. Most importantly, to belong. Flame Day signified

I could finally belong, fit in, and be part of a sect. I would always be

distinct, but I would belong.

Being special was never a gift,

it had cost me everything. Different, I had always been and it had isolated me,

but recently the loneliness tugged at my heartstrings with the absence of the

people who genuinely cared-my friends.

"Put your head down, Xarian-Jarda," my mother had said.

"Do not let them notice you." This was the first time she had spoken to me in

years and Cadvere's wisdom, they were simple for anyone else... but me.

As soon as I reached the top of the stairs, all eyes that were focused on the uncertainty of

today's result, became enrapt on me. A slow smile crept onto my face as

I basked in the attention. A male's eyes widened when he saw his reflection dancing in my eyes, the

color of dusk and dawn, accurately. Intrigued, as they realized that my hair

was darker than their perception of my soul. Enlightened by the fact that the

gods cursed my lips to bear the hue of every blood I had shed.

The floor I stood on was grey and wide. It divided into

two, with one part higher and facing the crowd. About 100-150 people lined up

in columns on the lower part of the floor. I stalked toward the last column,

like a predator stalking its prey. They were all still gazing at me with

sneers, scowls, and hatred. Some even pulled out their weapons, and the knowledge that they

would never attack as the belt on my waist, adorned with a

prominent golden emblem, glinted in the sun made my smile grow wider.

It was

written on their faces that my presence was undeserving. They were right

because the ones that deserved to be here, were gone. None of them was

justified to be in attendance. If not because my desire to blend in was the

only thing equal to the love I had for my friends, I would never be here. But I

was here, for them.

There was a time when I would have enjoyed the

attention. My back would have straightened and my eyes would have lowered at

them. I would have seen them as the ants they were. I would have calculated who

would be impudent enough to attack. I would have known they wouldn't dare

because of who I was and who I kept company. 

Why were they not here? This was what they would have

wanted, and what we all had dreamed of since day one, yet I was the only one

here. My body, at least. It was unfair! The cruelty of the situation made my

heart beat faster, starting a fire that was spreading in my blood. I should burn all of them along with myself so our fate would be the same as the ones this

opportunity passed by and call it even with the gods. Breathe, Xarian,  Breathe. 

"Welcome, all of you, to what I presume is the most

important day of your lives—it's Flame Day." Cold, unfeeling, yet full, Meridan

was. His voice snapped my eyes back to the high ground at the front, and so did

everyone else. His icy eyes scanned the throng and became even icier when it

landed on me. The way his face hardened and his disgust for me was on another

level.

Meridian, head of the council, stood in the middle of

the arc. The thirteen men formed the arc in front of the two huge pillars of

marble that rose upward. Mystical symbols and runes adorned their ornate surfaces. The sun reflected on their heads, and

the gold jewelry dawned on their ears, waist, and ankles paired with their white

robes. Their apparels were truly a vengeance on them by someone who hated their

guts, as much as the Persidians.

"The

four different colors of the Flame, represent the core value of each Hood." He

said. My eyes narrowed in on the first flame the black chalice floating in

mid-air behind the councilmen spurted when the servant boy beside it lit it

with a torch: blue.  

The wind tousling people's hair reminded me of the uncertainty

of Flame Day. They shivered and clenched their fists till they

turned white. Some girl

even puked in the column next to mine.

But Athika had blessed me with her courage. Not that I

needed it. Every fiber in my body knew that I would become a Wyn. If things did

not go as planned, I could still be chosen as a physician.

And if

Aramantha was on my side, which I highly doubted, I could get both blue and

green. As rare as it was, my Wyn once told me of someone who got all four

colors.

Meridan's emotionless voice retrieved me from my

thoughts. The emptiness in his eyes was a magnet that pulled me in. Pain and loss were

common ground for us, yet it drove a painful and unexpected wedge between

us. Just like me, he knew that even

with the amount of people here, it was still incomplete.

"The Wyn Houses must have taught all of you the process. Withal, in case

Cadvere has deemed you unworthy of even a measly drop of wisdom, I shall explain

again: You will all drop an offering of great importance into

the chalice and light it with a torch. When it finally burns to ashes, the

ashes will begin to burn, and the color of your flame will emerge. Remember that your offering

must hold significant value."

"May the light of Malax burn bright in you,"

he added with the same grim look on his face. "All hail Malax, protector of our

light and victor of our world!" Everyone echoed, but me. Never again would I

worship the same gods that ruined my life.

People

cheered when different persons turned around with satisfactory smiles when the

process officially began. But when the chalice spurted out red, for one girl in

particular, her face flushed crimson, and her shriek sent birds into

flight. 

Some

people laughed, but my heart skipped a beat just imagining that there was a

possibility that I could be sorted into knighthood. Her response showed she was

not brave and red meant bravery, so why was she chosen?

Knights were arrogant dolts, even more arrogant than we Wyns. They didn't see one as worthy until they passed their inhumane tests, even after being chosen by the Flames to prove one was worthy.

Inexplicably, people still decided to become Knights before Flame

Day. They did so as young as five years old and trained for the knight entrance

test. I was sure everyone would cheer for me to become a knight because they would be celebrating my death. I would never get through the tests, let alone

survive amid uncultured beasts.

Physicians

and Wyns were the best choices for me. They led quiet and secluded lives but

still made a great impact on the kingdom. Wyns collected,

recorded, and stored information. We have been the wisest and most

knowledgeable. Physicians were healers. After the Flames chose you to be a

Healer, few were given a spark. It allowed one to heal sicknesses that were

sometimes incurable. The

potency of the spark depended on the person.

 Maze wanted to

be a Healer. Her potency would have been the

most powerful. I took a shaky breath when I turned back and did not see her

smiling at me promising me that after getting green, she

would heal my heart, Drakon's cunning ways, or

Arthur's love of mischief and pranks. I never knew if she was being candid, but I wish

I could have told her that her eyes alone mended my heart in ways I could never

elucidate.

I

blinked realizing this harsh truth, and I  wanted to walk away from here without looking

back, but a commotion from another line stopped me.

I strained my neck to see, which was a bad decision

because all I saw was a pool of blood. Someone had been stabbed. It had to be a Persidian. People murmured and

gasped, but no one said anything, not even the council members. Murder was not

favored, but when it came to Persidians, no one dared to retaliate. Two men

came to carry the dead body away, and a sorcerer from the council members made

the blood disappear.

Finally, it was my column's turn, and as I was about to

move forward, I lost my balance and almost fell. No, I did not lose my balance;

someone pushed me, and it was evident because the people in my group were

laughing. 

I turned around to see a girl that I was a head taller

than, smirking. She had pink hair, a nose ring, and many piercings on her ears.

From her black leather outfit, she was placing her bets on being a knight. Too

bad knights did not accept cowards or dead people.

"Sorry, I must have slipped," the girl

mocked, her voice dripping with false innocence.

The laughter of her companions was a harsh chorus in

the background. I could feel my heart pounding, not just with anger but with

the weight of all the eyes on me. They were watching, waiting to see if I would

falter.

I took a slow, deliberate step towards her, "Repeat that," I growled, my voice low but carrying the threat

clear. "And I will blind you, forcing your gaze to witness your

burning." I had noble blood coursing

through my veins, and she was just a lowly barbarian and had no right to speak

to me. 

Her smirk faltered, just for a moment. The crowd around

us seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick enough to cut. How I would

enjoy burning her with the ashes of her fellow supporters.

She reached for the hilt of her sword, and I felt a

surge of adrenaline. I wanted to see her try. I wanted to show them all that I

was not to be trifled with.

"Next prospect!" a voice called out, yet no

one moved. 

"Hurry the hell up! We don't have the sun's light

forever!" One of the eighteen-year-old said. I blinked. He was talking to me.

The crowd's focus shifted slightly, and I turned my back on her, not waiting

for a reply. Let her stew in her cowardice. My time would come.

I made my way up, touching my necklace for strength.

This was it. My hand reached into the pocket of my brown leather pants that were underneath my cream-colored gown that had slits on both sides, front, and back. I brought out

a small, faded piece of clothing.

I

stopped in front of Meridian and it took all the years of niceties to bring

myself to give a nod.

"Your chimerical heart must be full of joy, I

suppose, knowing that the ones worthy

to be here aren't, because of you," Meridan said

with a smile. A smile that sent chills down my spine. Meridan never smiled even

before the incident. I didn't let my confusion show, though…

"Your enemy's ignorance is your biggest weapon." Drakon had said to me.

Instead, I lifted my chin and met his eyes. He was a

little bit taller than I was. "I am happy to be alive and unharmed." I spoke with emphasis, the mockery

evident in my eyes.

"Your pride will shatter you to pieces, Xarian-Jarda."

The smile vanished from his face.

I hissed, "Your bitterness is a toxin that will

consume you."

"I regret our acquaintance. Your shamelessness is like

a needle in a haystack, even after everything you've done, you murderer!"

My jaws tightened, and I walked past him. Breathe, Xarian. Breathe.

I stood in front of the black chalice, dropped my offering and

recited a prayer, "May my offering show my sincerity. May it stir the gods to

be fair and kind." A metallic taste slapped my mouth after I bit my tongue

for saying such a revolting prayer. The gods' blessings were nugatory.

The servant boy handed me a torch, and I held my breath

as the flame touched the offering, watching as it flared to life. This was the last thing that

was going to be mine. My wyn told me to never count my dragon eggs before the

hatched, but when something was glaring at you and even the Flames were on your

side all that was left was victory.

For

Arthur. For Maze. For Drakon. And for everything the gods took from me. That was the prayer I truly

uttered.

But then, when the flames finished burning the clothing, it sputtered and died, leaving only a wisp of smoke

curling from the chalice.

Time seemed to freeze. The world narrowed to that

single, devastating moment. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded in my chest

like a war drum. My hands, steady a moment ago, began to tremble. My eyes

reflected the image in front of me but my brain refused to interpret it.

"Malax, light! The flames went out!" someone

shrieked.

The crowd's gasps and murmurs washed over me like a

wave, but I was drowning in my own shock. My vision blurred, and I struggled to

focus on the chalice, willing the flames to reignite, to prove this was some

mistake.

My mind raced. This could not be happening. I had

waited for this moment, endured so much, only to be denied at the very last

instant. It was not possible! This was

some kind of joke. The weight of it crushed me, and for a moment, I could nog

breathe. And any breath I took was painful. This was my moment, my chance to

belong and even that too was snatched

away from me. My eyes stung and my heartbeat became slower as the seconds

passed.

I glanced at Meridan, his face pale and expressionless.

The cold satisfaction in his eyes was unmistakable, and it burned me more than

any flame ever could.

My legs felt like they would give way beneath me. I

wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice, but my voice was caught in my

throat. The world had shifted on its axis, and I was left in the wreckage,

alone and adrift.

The scent of burnt offering filled the air. The heat of the flames brushed against my skin, a stark contrast to the

cold dread settling in my stomach. Every sound seemed amplified—the crackle of

fire, the whispers of the crowd, the pounding of my own heart.