The silence in the branding room was a living thing, thick and heavy with the echo of screams and the sharp, coppery scent of blood and fear. Clara pushed through the waves of pain, her focus narrowing. She had survived the first test. She had kept her voice. But the cost was a fire on her skin that seemed determined to burn its way into her soul.
Senna's grudging respect was a small, strange comfort. Liora's broken sobs were a chilling reminder of the fate she was fighting to avoid. This was her new sisterhood, forged in fire and terror.
Just as Senna opened her mouth to speak again, the heavy iron door swung open with a low groan.
The heat in the room seemed to recede, chased away by a presence far colder than any mountain winter. Rulien Draeg stood in the doorway, a vision of pale, perfect beauty against the hellish backdrop of the forge. His glacial blue eyes swept over the chamber, taking in the scene with the dispassionate air of an artist surveying his latest work.
