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 pa.s.s?

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 pa.s.sed.

They were Doma.

Cyrene awoke with a start, shooting straight up, as she gasped out in a panic. Her side roared with fire, and she crumpled backward.

While her body recoiled from the pain of sitting up, her mind raced ahead of her. She desperately touched her stomach, her side, her face. She was herself again. She wasn't trapped any longer.

It was just a dream, a strange dream.

Or was it?

Her hands rested back down, and she finally realized that she was touching something soft. Her eyes flew open, and she peered around at her surroundings. The room was small with a single bed and two chairs. She couldn't make anything else out in the darkness. If I'm not in the tunnel and I'm not in the castle, where am I?

Before she could move to investigate, someone cracked open the door and walked in, carrying a tray with a candle and a bowl. The woman hummed to herself as she set it down on a table and went about rearranging the contents. Cyrene waited until the woman turned back toward her with a wooden bowl and pestle.

"Where am I?" Cyrene pushed herself up on one elbow despite the ache in her side.

"Oh!" the woman cried, jumping and bobbling the bowl. "Oh, honey, you're awake!"

"Where am I?" Cyrene repeated.

"Orden!" She ran to the door. "Orden! She's awake! She survived!"

Orden walked through the door and stared at Cyrene in surprise. "Go wake the boy and his friends," he said, ushering the woman out.

He placed a lantern on the table next to the tray, illuminating the room. The man looked vaguely familiar. She peered at him as she tried to place him.

"Yes. You've seen me before," he answered in a gruff deep voice as he seated himself in the chair farthest from her.

Even when he sat, it was obvious that he was one of the tallest people she had ever seen in her life. She had no idea how she knew him, but he had confirmed her thoughts.

"Where?" she asked.

"Your first day in Albion. You looked right at me when you were riding toward the castle."

"I did!" She coughed at her own exclamation.

I knew that I had seen him! He had stood out to her in the crowd for having such a severe expression. And now, he was sitting here before her, still lacking a smile.

"I didn't think you would recognize me." He leaned backward and stared at her with his deep-set brown eyes.

Orden started to speak again when Ahlvie skidded to a halt in the doorway, still pulling one arm through his shirtsleeve. His dark brown hair was mussed from where he had just woken up, and his eyes were wide. She had never really considered how young he looked until that moment.

"You're alive," he whispered.

He rushed to the bed and threw his arms around her. Pain hit her side, and she cried out. He hastily retreated.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"By the Creator, Ahlvie, she just woke up," Maelia said, appearing in the doorway.

A second later, Rhea stepped into view behind her.

"It's all right," Cyrene said. She shifted her weight to lean more into her uninjured side. "I'm just glad to see you all. I really am. But can someone please tell me where I am and what happened?"

"We don't know," Rhea said. "Ahlvie came and got us in the middle of the night. We all thought you...you weren't going to make it."

"We thought you might be able to tell us what you remember." Orden leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbow on his knee.

Everything came back to her in a wave-the bar fight, the dead woman, the sword to her side, the tunnel, the terrifying voice whispering into her ear and clouding her mind, her finding a way to block the voice, the dead Affiliate's face, the Braj and the prophecies and her powers, and then the look of shock on its face when something had exploded out of her.

Then, she had woken up, only she hadn't. She had dreamed of Serafina. But how could it have been a dream when it had felt so real? She had seen Serafina walk away from Viktor Dremylon. She had been at Serafina's Ascension ritual before the Doma court. She had been there when the book opened itself to them, and she had realized, just as Serafina had, that she had powers.

Now, she needed to learn how to control them. She needed someone to teach her. She needed Matilde and Vera. Everything finally clicked into place.

"Go on, Cyrene." Ahlvie sat in the chair next to Orden.

She suspiciously eyed Orden. While she appreciated that he was housing her after her injury in the tunnels, she didn't know or trust him.

"He's a friend. He's not going to tell anyone," Ahlvie said.

"I'd feel more comfortable talking without him," she whispered. "No offense."

Ahlvie began to protest, but Orden cut him off, "I understand your concerns, and I respect them. I'm very much interested in your story and how I can help, but until the time you need it, I'll just go see if Younda needs anything." He stood, pushed past the girls, and exited the room without further complaint.

"He's really a friend, Cyrene. You can trust him," Ahlvie said.

"We don't know him like you do," Maelia said. She took Orden's abandoned seat. "We didn't even trust you until...recently."

"Today, you mean."

Maelia shrugged.

Rhea shut the door and crossed her arms. "What she means is that we're a team. We should decide together who else to include in our plans."

"She was going to die!" Ahlvie cried.

"It's okay!" Cyrene interjected. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

They nodded, and Cyrene began to fill them in on everything that had happened last night. She didn't tell them about the explosion of energy or the dream. She couldn't trust even her closest friends with that information yet. She didn't know how she could tell them that she had powers.

"Wait...a Braj?" Rhea asked in disbelief.

"Braj are from fairy tales," Maelia said.

"No, really, I saw it!" Ahlvie said, backing her up.

Cyrene shook her head. "You believe...in the Braj?" she asked, a little surprised that he was taking this all so lightly.

"I saw it with my own two eyes down in that tunnel. If I didn't believe in them before, then I believe in them now," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"And did you believe in them beforehand?" she questioned.

Ahlvie glanced away and back. "Yes," he said without elaborating.

She wanted to know why when she hadn't even thought they were real until tonight. But she would respect his silence since she wasn't even telling him everything.

"Okay. It's a Braj," Rhea said, throwing up her arms.

Maelia shook her head like she didn't want to believe it.

"So," Ahlvie said, "you don't know what happened after the Braj attacked you?"

Cyrene shook her head. "No."

Rhea gave her a sidelong look that said, You're not telling us everything, but Cyrene just raised her eyebrows.

"Well," Ahlvie said, scratching the back of his head, "I just know that as I reached the tunnel, something like a wave hit me, and then out of nowhere, the skies opened up. I could have sworn it was a cloudless night, but it was an almost instantaneous downpour. I hurried into the tunnel and found you pa.s.sed out on the ground with a dead Braj at your side."

"Dead?" she squeaked.

"I know! Someone must have killed it. I thought it was impossible, but there it was. I panicked when I saw how much blood you had lost, and I rushed you to Orden's. It's much closer than the castle, and I knew he would understand."

What kind of person is Orden that he expects half-dead people on his doorstep?

"His help attended to you. She said the wound had started to heal in on itself too soon, and she barely had time to withdraw the venom before it closed completely."

Cyrene gingerly touched her side. The skin through her shift wasn't gaping open. Rather, it was a tender puckered bit of flesh. The last time she had looked at it, she had lost too much blood, and the Braj had told her that it wouldn't clot. How had new skin already covered its place?