Page 6 of Blood Marked

“Lady Morwen,” a deep, gravelly voice announced from somewhere to her right—one of the shifter priests draped in silver-threaded black robes. “Step forward.”

Selene obeyed, her legs steady even though her heart was screaming.

She stepped onto the stone.

Magic hummed up through her soles, invasive and alive. It coiled around her bones like smoke, like memory, like warning.

Kael stepped forward too, his expression carved from ice. No greeting. No acknowledgment. Just silent, seething compliance.

The priest lifted a ceremonial dagger—bone-handled, ancient, notched from years of use.

“Blood for truth. Blood for fate,” he intoned. “The old ways demand offering. That the moons may bear witness. That the Mark may judge. With this blood, this sacrifice, you will join hands and join our fractions by peace instead of war.”

Selene held out her hand.

The priest moved to cut, just a shallow nick across the palm. Enough for a single drop. She gritted her teeth.

But something moved.

Not on the platform.

Inside her.

A crackle. A spark. A jolt of heat that surged from her core outward, making her vision blur.

The priest’s blade slipped.

She gasped as it bit too deep—slicing her palm wide open. Blood poured from her hand, hot and fast, splattering onto the Stone of Binding in a sharp, red burst.

Gasps echoed. The priest stumbled back. Kael flinched like he’d been struck.

And then the stone screamed.

A sound that wasn’t sound at all, just pressure, breaking the air. Light burst up through the runes, searing white and silver, wrapping around Selene’s legs and chest like chains made of flame.

“No—” she choked out, stumbling, her knees buckling beneath the magic’s weight.

Kael lunged toward her.

Too late.

The magic snapped.

Light shot across the stone, racing through the cracks, crawling across Kael’s feet, his chest, his throat. His body jerked as if something had grabbed him by the spine.

Then the pain hit.

Selene screamed.

Agony like fire and ice laced with thorns. It sank into her skin, her blood, her soul. The runes branded themselves into the flesh over her heart—a jagged crescent, a fang, a mark too ancient for human memory.

Kael was on his knees too, eyes gold, mouth open in a silent cry.

The light dimmed. The air cooled.

And stillness fell.

The court stared, stunned into silence. The priest was pale, shaking, his mouth open and forming no words.

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