Cyrene woke up, her head heavy and feeling groggy. Gloomy mist settled in her mind, and she had to physically push it aside. She concentrated, trying to force herself to get past the haze. Slowly, it lifted, and the clouds cleared away. Then, her mind was back to normal.
She peeled her eyes open and stared at her surroundings in shock. Where the hell am I? One minute, she was facing off with a Braj in an underground tunnel, and now, she was in the middle of some pathway with huge trees all around her.
She must have hit her head pretty hard. She was dreaming, or she was dead. There wasn’t another conceivable option. She swallowed back bile at the thought. She couldn’t be dead. She felt…fine. She was panicky, but her body was intact.
If she wasn’t dead, then where was she?
The packed hard dirt beneath her feet had been trampled smooth from years of travel. In one direction, the path led deeper through the woods, and she could just make out a myriad of stone buildings. In the other stood a castle embedded into the side of a mountain.
She had never seen the trees before, and this path didn’t feel familiar at all. But she would know the castle anywhere. It had been a fixture of her world her entire life.
Nit Decus, the Byern castle.
How am I home? It was a four-day trip back to Byern!
“You can stop this!”
Cyrene turned toward the noise in confusion. What in the name of the Creator am I doing in Byern, talking to a strange man? Did I completely lose my mind?
The man reached for her hand, and she moved to jerk away. But her body didn’t respond. She didn’t move at all. Even as she screamed at herself to pull away from this stranger, he wrapped his hand around hers. It was warm and roughly callous.
Terror was setting in. Why can’t I move away? Why can’t I move at all? Am I paralyzed?
No. She could move. Her body was moving. She just wasn’t in control of it.
“You know I would if I could,” she whispered. The words fell from her mouth, but she didn’t command herself to speak, nor was it something she would have said. What is going on?
“Then, do it!” He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You know what they will do, what they will be forced to do.”
“I know.”
Cyrene stared into the face of the man and tried to push down her rising panic. Surely, there was some explanation for what was happening.
She peered at the man and tried to place why he looked oddly familiar. He was young, no older than her, and ruggedly handsome with dark brown hair cut short. His blue-gray eyes stared back at her, filled with anxiety, remorse, and desperation.
“How can you just accept it?” He dropped her hand. “We’re betrothed. Does that no longer matter to you, Sera?”
Betrothed! Cyrene didn’t know who this man was, and she felt uncomfortable, as if she were intruding on this moment between him and the person whose body she inhabited. It was as if she was role-playing with someone else’s life. She was stuck in this limbo where she couldn’t do or say anything, only watch as it happened to her.
“It doesn’t matter to them, Viktor.” She took a step backward.
Viktor? Those blue-gray eyes, that strong jaw, the dark hair, and build.
Could this be the legendary Viktor Dremylon?
“They never mattered to you before.” He stomped away from her, throwing his hands in the air.
“That was before. I can’t exactly turn them down. It’ll happen to me whether I want it to or not. I have to learn to control it.”
He stared at the ground as if he thought it might hold the answers. “I wish your powers had never manifested,” he murmured under his breath.
She felt the shock register on the woman as if it were the biggest insult she had ever endured. Cyrene didn’t feel insulted, but she couldn’t believe that he had just mentioned this woman having powers. The Braj had just told her in the tunnels that she also had powers.
“Take it back,” Sera said, her voice deadly grave.
“I’ll never forgive them.”
“We can make it through this.” She approached him and took his hands in hers. “If anyone can, surely we can. It isn’t unheard of! Please, just fight for me.”
“How can I fight for you when you’ve already given up?” he demanded. He ran his thumb across her hand.
“I haven’t given up, but if you love me, you’ll let me do this. You’ll let me do what I must do. I will always be yours even if you no longer believe in me.” She resolutely dropped her arms.
“I believe you.” He grasped her around the waist and pulled her into him. “I’ll always love you, Sera.”
Cyrene felt his kiss on her cheek and the blush that followed.
“I love you, too, Viktor,” she whispered into his chest. She pulled back, gave him a forlorn smile, and rushed away down the path. Her heart thudded in her chest, and a tear slid down her cheek as she took the left bend in the road toward the castle.
Cyrene didn’t know what was going on or who Sera was in relation to Viktor Dremylon, but her chest ached all the same. She had witnessed lovers torn apart because of this woman’s destiny. Sera’s remorse and loss was heartrending, more painful than the Braj’s sword wound. Somehow though, it was worth every moment.
Sera crawled along, clearly not wanting to get to the castle any faster than she had to. She didn’t glance back at the man she had left behind. As they approached the castle, Sera glanced up, and Cyrene got a clear image of the structure. Something about it looked off. She couldn’t place it until she crossed into the lush blooming gardens and realized they had never walked through a gate, and there was no wall around the castle.
Sera walked through the giant double doors and went inside.
“Serafina?” called a woman dressed in blue, standing at the end of the hall with her hands crossed over her stomach.
Another jolt of shock crashed through Cyrene. There was only one Serafina in their history—the Domina Serafina. Could Viktor Dremylon have once loved the woman he had killed to right order in the world?
“Yes. That’s me.” She curtsied deeply.
“You’re late, child,” the woman said sternly.
“My apologies.”
“No matter. Come along.” The woman in blue walked through the corridors.
Cyrene recognized where they were, but she didn’t think Serafina knew. It was strange to feel the fear, unease, and nervousness rolling off of Serafina while at the same time feeling perfectly calm and collected. What am I doing, trapped in the ancient Domina Serafina’s mind? And if this woman truly were the Domina, what atrocities would Cyrene see before she was released from this prison?
The woman in blue stopped before a blank wall. She closed her eyes and pressed the palm of her right hand against the wall. Cyrene watched the woman in fascination, wondering what was about to happen. Suddenly, the wall shifted inward. She couldn’t believe that the rock was moving of its own accord and sliding away, leaving a gaping hole.
“Off you go,” the woman in blue told her.
Serafina glanced at her with worried eyes. “I go alone?”
“Everyone must at some point. Believe in those whose honor doth shine.”
Serafina held her breath and started forward into the dimly lit stone hallway. Cyrene felt like she was holding her breath, too. They walked through the opening, and then the door slid shut behind them. Serafina jumped at the click as it sealed them inside. Cyrene wished she could help Serafina in some way, but she couldn’t—at least, she didn’t know how.
Serafina inched down the dark hallway. About twenty feet in, she descended a long staircase. When she reached the bottom, her feet touched a slate-gray marble floor. There was just enough light for Cyrene to see that the walls all around her. Even the ceiling was carved and painted with strange glyphs of some sort. A few had real-life painted depictions of all manner of creatures that Cyrene had read about in her folklore books.
Then, the voices began. Cyrene didn’t know where they were coming from or who was speaking, but they grew louder and louder to where it was earsplitting. Serafina clasped her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t keep from hearing the words.
“Death. Destruction. Murder. Traitor.”
The words were accusingly shrieked at her.
“No!” Serafina cried. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Murderer.”
“No! Please, no.” She shook her head and forced herself to walk forward.
“Murderer. You killed him. You will kill them all.”
Serafina whimpered as images of the deaths of everyone she knew and loved displayed before her on the walls, and the word murderer kept ringing in her ears.
“Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.”
The words blended together, reverberating off the walls and echoing back down the long hall. When she wasn’t sure she could take it any longer, the words fell into a whisper.
Her vision blurred, and she tripped as she scrambled forward toward the opening of the hallway. She dug her hands into the hard ground and dragged her body across the marble floor.
“Sera?”
Serafina looked up and saw Viktor standing before her. How could he be here? Serafina had left him behind. He shouldn’t be in the hall with her.
“Viktor,” she whispered.
“You knew it would come to this,” Viktor said. He drew his long sword from its sheath.
She hauled herself to her feet and stood before the man she loved. She brushed her hands under her eyes to stall the tears. “What do you mean? Come to what?”
“You made your choice.”
“I don’t understand. I will always choose you.”
Viktor shook his head. “I love you, Sera.”
“I love—”
The words died on her lips as Viktor thrust the sword into her body. She gasped, doubling over, as pain seared through her. She felt as if she were on fire, as if the life was spilling out of her body.
“Why?”
“You know why, my love.”
Cyrene was shocked. This wasn’t how it happened in history. Serafina was the great Domina, and Viktor Dremylon had freed her people. Is this some premonition? This couldn’t be the end.
Serafina took two heaving breaths before pulling the sword from her body and collapsing on the floor. Viktor impassively stared down at her deteriorating body.
“This is my choice,” she ground out.
“You chose wrong.”
She ignored him and then started crawling the last few feet to the exit. Blood seeped out of her gown, her heart slowed, and she was having trouble gasping in her last breaths.
As soon as her fingers crossed the threshold, Viktor disappeared. Serafina looked down at her tattered dress, only to find it completely whole and her body intact. She was shaken but not dead.
She scrambled out of that treacherous hallway and stood. She ran trembling fingers back through her long dark hair and tried to hide the apprehension of moving forward after what had happened.
She took a minute to compose herself, and then she glanced up, finding herself in a large open auditorium.
Cyrene had never seen anything like this in the castle before. The room was perfectly spherical and made entirely of slate-gray marble. Stairs on either side of the entrance wound upward to empty tiered balcony seating. A small stone podium rested before seven individuals. Four women and three men were seated in ascending glass thrones. Each person was dressed in solid black, except for the woman in the center who was wearing contrasting stark white and the most severe face.
Serafina gulped, and her eyes bugged, her terror palpable.
Who are these people? Why are they dressed in such a manner and sitting on thrones of ice? Cyrene suddenly felt like she was at her own Presenting, standing before King Edric, Queen Kaliana, and Consort Daufina, shaking in her slippers at the thought of not making First Class.
After an agonizing moment, Serafina took the first uneasy step forward. Cyrene empathized with her. The first step was the hardest, and facing whoever these people were wasn’t going to be much easier.
Her breathing slowly began to even out, and her steps became steadier. She kept her face staring forward as she stopped before the podium, never dropping her gaze from their scrutiny.
The thrones had an oversized square back with a design of vines winding to the top. At the heart of a circle of flames was a precious gemstone. Each throne housed a different colored stone—yellow, orange, red, white, purple, blue, and green. Their stones matched the diamond pendant on the breasts of the individuals seated on the thrones, save for the woman in white who had a giant white diamond necklace.
The white woman sat up straighter in her enormous throne, and Serafina raised her eyes back to her. Everything about the woman exuded authority and deference despite being much more frail than the rest seated around her. She had more power, wisdom, and authority in one glance than Cyrene had ever seen in another individual.
Then, it clicked in Cyrene’s mind exactly who was standing in front of her.
White, yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, green.
By the Creator! It was the Doma court with their diamonds depicting their color ranks, and the dreaded Domina dressed in all white was staring directly into her eyes.
The Doma court was the evil society that had subjugated their people and forced Viktor Dremylon to free the country of their tyranny, bringing peace back to Byern.
She was walking through history before Serafina had ever ascended to the Domina throne, when she and Viktor had somehow been lovers. It seemed impossible, yet she was living it.
“You were brought before us today,” the Domina began, “to be tested to the full extent of the Doma Ascension ritual. By walking through the Hallway of Remembrance, you have accepted the discretion of our people and survived. Congratulations.” The words hollowly fell out of her mouth.
Cyrene’s mind buzzed with the words that the Domina had spoken. The Doma Ascension ritual where individuals were accepted into the Doma circle was one of the few things still taught about the Doma people. The Doma had been exterminated for nearly two thousand years, and she was about to stand through Serafina’s own ritual. She couldn’t believe it.
“You may proceed with the final task.” The Domina gestured to the podium. “The Hymn of Remembrance.”
Serafina’s gaze traveled down to the podium before her. Cyrene’s disbelief at what sat on the podium could have ripped through the entire world at that moment. She had thought she was alarmed by the Domina’s comments about the Ascension ritual, but nothing compared to this.
Serafina’s hands traveled the length of the pristine leather spine before her with minute black letters and the familiar logo branded to the front—a straight line parallel to the binding and two lines shooting out of it at an upward angle on the right side. It was the exact book Cyrene had received from her sister on the day of her Presenting.
Serafina cracked the book open and turned to the first page. The first page revealed the brilliant shimmery font Cyrene had been trying to decipher for months. It shifted gloriously in the light from gold, yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, green, and back to gold. The handwriting had an edge to it, a sharpness and fierceness that cut through the looping swirls of the font.
She inherently knew that Serafina could also see the font, and she was staring at it in the same manner Cyrene had when she first realized she could see it. By Serafina’s intense concentration, Cyrene guessed Sera couldn’t read it either.
Serafina gazed up at the Domina, silently pleading with her for answers.
“Continue,” the Domina retorted.
She swallowed hard and glanced back down at the book. Cyrene could feel her reading, trying to figure out the riddle. She was testing the waters, doing all the things that Cyrene had tried. Cyrene wished she could whisper in her ear about the uselessness of her actions.
Serafina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and splayed her hands out on the podium. Cyrene didn’t know what she was doing, and she certainly didn’t know what she was thinking.
After a few minutes, Serafina opened her eyes to the gold shimmery text, and Cyrene saw something she never expected to happen. The font began to move! It swirled around itself like a snake slithering in the Fallen Desert sand. Serafina’s mouth dropped open, and she took a tentative step backward from the podium.
The words jumped right off the pages, twisting upward, appearing larger and larger as it traveled toward the ceiling. The pages suddenly began flipping fiercely, the words shooting off the pages faster and faster. The words coalesced into a giant winged beast that flew around the room. Serafina ducked as it soared toward her. Her eyes grew large at the manifestation before her. Then, the creature shot straight into the air and crashed into the ceiling. The words all spilled onto the spherical ceiling until they covered every surface.
Serafina stared up at all the print now written on the walls, and to Cyrene’s astonishment, she could actually read the words. As plain as her own dialect, the words were written out for her, and it all made sense, complete and total sense.
Serafina bit down on her lip, taking in the room all around her. She absorbed it all, experiencing everything she could, until she was ready to burst. Then, just as fast as the book had exploded onto the walls, it whooshed off of them, each word rushing through her back and out her chest, before crashing back into the book. When the last word returned to the page, it closed with a thud, and Serafina doubled over upon impact.
She was shaking when she was finally able to straighten. She rested her hands on the podium to steady herself. Did she pass?
The Doma Court rose and retreated to a vestibule to discuss, leaving Serafina all alone.
A few minutes later, the court returned to their thrones, and all six of the Doma turned and looked at the Domina, raising deference to the highest. The Domina stared at Serafina as if she were no more worthy than a grub to be in her presence, but Serafina didn’t budge, and she didn’t look away. Her jaw was set and determined.
This was it. This was the moment.
The Domina’s severe face slowly broke out into a smile, and she nodded. “Yes.”
The six Doma applauded, and Serafina mirrored the Domina’s smile, clearly unable to believe what all had just happened.
“Congratulations, Serafina,” the lady in red said, who was the highest ranked official after the Domina. “You’ve successfully completed the task of the Hymn of Remembrance with our highest honors. Your Ascension is complete, and you have been properly selected as a Doma. It has been decided that you will be placed in Receivership with the Domina Valera.”
The astonishment was palpable from Serafina. “White?” Serafina asked in disbelief. “But…no one is raised to the White.”
“Very few are raised to the White,” the Domina corrected. “It means that you have an affinity for all magical elements plus the fifth, ether.”
Serafina’s mouth was hanging open. “White,” she repeated.
“Do you disagree with our decision, child?” the Domina asked. Her voice conveyed that answering incorrectly would be a grave mistake.
“No, of course not. Thank you.”
“Good. You will start training with me immediately. After your training period, we believe that you should work with Master Domas Matilde and Vera in Eleysia,” the old Domina said. All the other Doma nodded.
Cyrene’s mouth would have fallen open in shock if she weren’t in some alternate reality at the moment. Matilde and Vera? Master Domas? Are the people I’m searching out in Eleysia somehow the same people and still alive?
“Master Domas Matilde and Vera will help you understand the…unique talents we saw in you today. Your regimen will start promptly tomorrow morning to begin training you on how to use and control your gifts.”
“Thank you, Domina.” Serafina curtsied to the group, trying to contain her surprise and excitement.
“Serafina,” the Domina called, raising herself up. “Do be cautious with your abilities. They are a powerful tool, and in the wrong hands, they could be deadly.”
“Yes, Domina,” she said, her heart bursting with joy.
They had passed.
They were Doma.