Page 41 of The Blood Rites

“Again,” I say. “Hold onto it this time.”

Marissa’s brow furrows in concentration. She tries once, nothing. She tries again, teeth clenched. On the third attempt, a flicker of gold light outlines her fingertips, so brief I almost miss it. She lets out an anxious breath.

“That’s it,” I say gently. “It only has to hold once.”

Callen’s next attempt holds. He produces a steady glimmer of golden light, almost the shape of a shield itself—a wide disc that floats a foot from his outstretched hands. Marissa’s next try is better too, the flickering light extending out from her fingers just briefly.

She laughs, startled by her own excitement. “I did it, Luceris.”

“Again,” Callen says. “We’ll practice until we can hold it for as long as possible.”

I demonstrate the motion again, careful not to let even a drop of my own power show. My skin prickles as Mana stirs beneath it, eager and difficult to suppress here. I dig my nails into my palms until it settles again.

“You’re really good at teaching this,” Marissa says, glancing at me. “Even though...well, you know.”

I focus on the floor. “Even though what?”

She curls a strand of hair in her fingers, embarrassed. “The Blessed said you had no Mana at all. I heard him at the Choosing. He said it was impossible.”

Callen’s eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening as he stares me down. “You know a lot about channelling for someone without Mana.”

“I paid attention,” I reply, shrugging. “I wanted to become a Guardian once.”

Silence stretches between us as they weigh my answer.

Callen returns to summoning his shield again.

“Maybe you’ll be able to channel soon,” Marissa says, her voice hopeful. “Maybe the bands just take a while to wear off.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I can taste the lie on my tongue.

We run the drills a few more times. Each time their shields get stronger, more tangible. Marissa is the first to tire, her arms hanging exhausted by her sides, her breathing ragged. She excuses herself to rest, while Callen keeps going—silent and determined.

“You really want to survive this, don’t you?"

He doesn't speak for a long time. “Don’t we all?” he finally says. “Plus, I want to protect Marissa. She’s just a kid. It’s not fair.”

I nod, but guilt sparks behind my sternum. I can’t protect anyone—not really—not while I continue to hide.

When Marissa returns, Callen is already up and moving. He grabs a sword and offers it to her. “Do you want to try hitting my shield?” he asks.

She grins, all nervous excitement. “Yes, please!”

She takes the sword in both hands, and while Callen projects his shield—golden and steady but as thin as an eggshell—she prods it cautiously with the sword. It vibrates but holds, and they both laugh, as though neither of them expected to anymore.

I watch them for a while longer before losing myself in thought. I find myself staring up at the curved ceiling of the Dome, searching for golden cracks.

There aren’t any here, but the pressure and fear builds beneath my skin all the same, and the question returns.

What are you?

I shake it off, and when I look at Marissa and Callen again, I’m relieved to see them smiling, growing stronger.

I only hope it will be enough.

Callen and Marissa continue to work on their shields while I instruct. We are mid-drill when the atmosphere seems to shift—the temperature drops, like a storm quenching the heat of the sun.

Kael is striding towards us in his dark uniform. Every sharp line of him distracts me more than I care to admit. His eyes are so black they remind me of my first glimpse of night on the bridge over the sea.