"NEXT SET!"
The voice thundered through the dark hall, breaking the silence.
The chants began again — low, droning hums that shook the air like a heartbeat. The smell of old incense and burnt herbs filled the chamber as sigils flared to life under each chained slave.
One by one, the hooded figures measured them.
Each result — Earth Affinity, no divine mark.
The same words repeated like a curse. The same verdict every slave feared.
Disposable.
The chanting continued, louder this time, until it reached a young girl.
Petite frame, short dark hair, trembling as she was pushed forward.
But as the dim light fell upon her, the hall shifted.
Her eyes—
They were wrong.
Not glowing. Not steady.
Fractured.
Like shattered glass pieced together, glittering with an olive hue that pulsed like fading stars.
The hooded figure stepped closer, extending a frail hand. When he touched her, a surge of brilliance burst from her body—pure, radiant starlight.
Gasps filled the hall.
But just as suddenly, the light faltered… dimming, flickering, dying.
The figure's voice rasped through the darkness.
> "Yes… you carry divine lineage. But alas—it is incomplete. That is why your eyes mirror broken divinity, child."
Silence.
Not a whisper, not a sound. Even the lanterns seemed to hold their breath.
Then the deep voice from the unseen platform spoke, echoing through the hall:
> "Take her to the Second Quarter. She will have more use there."
Chains rattled. The girl was led away, head bowed, her eyes faintly glowing like broken stars.
Behind her, two dim amethyst eyes watched everything.
Unblinking.
Cold.
Waiting.