Chapter 4 From Violet to Dust
Serafina
The vibrant violet color rippled through the orb, stronger, brighter...
Then the light sputtered. And collapsed.
The violet bled into blue, white, yellow, orange—
And finally sank into red. Dust.
A murmur swept through the Square. The young examiner laughed loudly. “I told you. Once a Dust rat, always a Dust rat.”
The older Examiner with long silver-white hair shot him a silencing glare, but he did not contradict the results.
My hands trembled with disappointment as I drew them back from the orb. Something deep inside me shattered, as though a fragile, irreplaceable treasure had slipped forever from my grasp.
“Next!” the woman Examiner snapped.
I walked down the steps slowly, as if my body belonged to someone else. Every whisper stabbed like a needle.
“Fraud.”
“Hallucination.”
“Dust trash.”
Even Mira didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were wide, wet, stunned. “Sera… I saw it. I swear I did.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I did too.”
But the world had already decided I was wrong.
Halfway down the stairs, a shadow fell across my path.
Warden Voss stood at the bottom, a wall of authority and menace. Up close, her presence was suffocating—tall, unyielding, every movement precise. Her honey-colored eyes bored into mine, sharp and calculating. That pleased, shrewd smile lingered on her lips, promising nothing but judgment.
“Sera,” she said, her voice low and smooth, like velvet sliding over steel. “A moment.”
I froze. The crowd’s whispers dimmed to a dull, distant hum, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
She tilted her head, studying me with a predator’s patience. “Who were your parents, child?”
The lie slipped from my lips, rehearsed a thousand times. “They tended horses. Hay bales and stables. That’s where the surname Bale comes from. They… died of sickness long ago.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened—measuring, weighing. There was amusement there, cruel and faint, like she was testing me.
“Hmm. Convenient,” she murmured, stepping closer. The sound was low, intimate, yet each word pressed into my chest. “Your debts are mounting, girl. The Collectors have been… generous, but my patience is not infinite. You pay for two now—your brother’s share included. Or Lio goes on the purge list. Left to die in the Dusty Hills, forgotten like so many before him.”
My stomach twisted into knots.
“I’ll pay. I promise,” I whispered. “I always do.”
She studied me a long, sharp moment, then stepped aside, her posture relaxed but dangerous.
“My proposal still stands, Sera. Remember—all you need to do is bend the knee. Submit to my will,” she said, her voice honed to a blade. Her smile returned—sharper now, colder. “Do know I notice things. Even when the orb pretends not to. Any magic not sanctioned will pay a price.”
She swept past me, leaving behind the scent of expensive spice and iron, a trail of authority and menace I couldn’t escape.
I took the long way home, every step heavy, the District darker than before, the alleys narrower, the air thicker with the weight of debts, fear, and unspoken threats.
I kept replaying the moment in my head—the violet blaze, so pure and brilliant it felt like the world itself had shifted. Could the orb be malfunctioning? Or had something… interfered?
By the time I reached our shack, the sky was dusky and orange. I pushed open the door, heart still throbbing with equal parts hope and dread.
But the moment I stepped inside, my breath froze.
The Collectors were waiting.
Their leader lounged casually against the wall, spinning Mira’s coin pouch around his finger. My stomach plummeted.
“That’s mine!" I shouted, voice tight.
“Oh, we know.” His grin widened. “And you still owe the Warden more.”
He tipped the pouch upside down in his palm. Coins clattered down—every last one Mira had given me.
“No!” I lunged forward, but one of the others shoved me back.
“Maybe don’t take gifts that aren’t yours to keep,” the leader said. “Dust trash shouldn’t get greedy.”
“Please,” I begged. “My brother is sick. I need that money—”
He flicked his fingers. My collar tightened again. Pain shot across my throat as the fabric constricted, choking me. I clawed at it, coughing, gasping.
“The Warden expects payment tomorrow, same time as usual,” he said, voice cold. “Or next time, the collar won’t loosen.”
He snapped his hand, and the magic released. I collapsed to my knees, coughing violently.
They exited the shack with Mira’s coins.
No!
Rage exploded inside me—hot, sharp, uncontrollable. My chest felt like it was on fire, every heartbeat pounding in time with the fury coiling in my stomach. I imagined him slipping, face-first, into the nearest puddle, the murky water swallowing his smug grin.
Then it happened.
His foot snagged on the slick cobblestone. Time slowed. His arms flailed in frantic arcs as a sharp, high-pitched curse tore from his lips. The world tilted violently as he pitched forward—and splash—he plunged into the water, drenched instantly, reeking of filth and the sharp, acrid stink of dog waste.
He thrashed in the foul muck, claws scraping uselessly against the slick stones, curses spilling under his breath while his pride seeped away with every desperate heave.
I pressed my face into my hands, my heart hammering so violently I feared it would betray me. If he realized it had been me—if he connected the dots—disaster would follow. With shaking hands, I swung the door shut, its harsh slam echoing through the tiny shack.
I held my breath, ear pressed to the door, straining to catch any hint of returning footsteps. Outside, silence settled once more—and to my utter relief, it stayed.
I exhaled slowly, confusion swirling in my chest as I stepped away from the door.
That couldn’t have been me… could it?
Then, a faint sound pulled me from my thoughts.
“Sera…”
Lio’s voice was weak, trembling, almost breaking, and it tore through the chaos in an instant.
I scrambled to him. His face was flushed, sweat beading along his temples. The fever had surged. His breathing was shallow—too fast. Too wrong.
“Sera,” he whispered again, “it hurts.”
Panic crashed through me like a wave. I pressed my hand to his burning forehead. I grabbed the bottle of elixir from the table. Luckily, the Collectors hadn’t touched it. I poured a spoonful into his mouth and pressed a damp cloth against his forehead.
“It'll be okay,” I lied, even as fear strangled me. “I'll find more work later, more coins, and get you a healer."
But as I held him—small, trembling, burning up—I felt something shift in the air. Something unseen.
A faint pull. As if the world was tightening a chain around my wrists. The same sensation I felt last night, deeper now, unmistakable.
Something was calling to me. Something waiting.
The Rank Test had failed me. The empire had failed me. The Collectors had stolen everything. Lio was dying.
And somewhere in Aetherion…
A force older than all six castes had turned its attention toward me.
I gripped Lio’s hand gently, fear pounding through me.
“I’m going to save you. Whatever it takes.”
Even if it meant stepping onto a path I could never return from.