The dress they gave me was simple, in shades of ivory and seafoam, like the foam breaking along the shore. When I put it on, I felt the fabric cling to my skin like a second breath.
Before leaving, I crossed one of the corridors that opened onto the inner courtyard—and I saw him.
Declan was leaning against a column, watching the sky. The breeze played with his tousled hair, and the profile of his face was so perfect it hurt to look at for too long. His expression was distant, as if he were wrestling with himself.
When he saw me, his eyes darkened slightly. He took a step toward me, then stopped.
—You're beautiful —he said softly.
I felt my heart pound against my ribs.
I wanted to ask him what he feared. What he was holding back. But there was something in his posture, in his gaze, that told me this night was not for words. It was for signs.
We stood there for a few seconds in silence, breathing the same electrically charged air, until Lyanna appeared to call me. The moment unraveled like the last thread of a dream.
We walked out toward the village.
Torches lit the paths. The ground vibrated beneath my feet like a buried heart, beating hard. The trees leaned with the wind, murmuring secrets I couldn't quite understand.
The Festival of New Blood had begun. And the island was watching us.
They guided us along stone paths that wound through ancient trees. We reached a vast clearing where an enormous bonfire already burned at the center. The fire was tall, alive, as if it breathed.
The entire village was there, forming a perfect circle. Each person wore a mask made of branches, flowers, or feathers. Only Declan and I stood barefaced.
The atmosphere was dense, vibrating. I felt the murmurs of the earth beneath my feet, the crunch of leaves under a rhythm I couldn't hear, but that my body followed instinctively.
An elder stepped forward. He wore simple clothes, but in his hands he carried a staff adorned with carved symbols.
His voice, when he spoke, was older than the wind:
—Tonight, the new blood presents itself before us. Tonight, the island will decide whether it accepts her or rejects her.
My name was called. Not as a shout. As a whisper that crossed the entire circle.
Lyanna gestured to me. It was time.
I felt everyone's eyes on me. And above all, I felt Declan's gaze—intense, contained, as if he wanted to stop me and couldn't.
I took a step forward.
The ground beneath my feet vibrated, as if the island itself were holding its breath.
Each step toward the bonfire felt heavier than the last, as if I were walking not on earth, but on the island's own heartbeat. I felt the roots beneath my feet—unseen—stir faintly, as if they were doubting me, as if they were measuring me.
The temperature rose with every meter I closed. The fire, which from a distance had seemed steady, began to writhe, to cast erratic sparks, as if responding to my presence.
When I reached the edge of the stone circle surrounding the fire, I stopped. The elder lifted his staff and, with a slow motion, signaled for me to take one more step.
Barefoot, I felt the warmth of the stones guarding the flames. I closed my eyes for an instant. I let the island's pulse guide my steps. It wasn't a sound. It was an ancient, deep vibration, born from the very center of the earth.
Then I felt it.
A current of warm air wrapped around me—not from outside, but from below. As if the earth itself exhaled. The fire changed: its color shifted from orange to a pale gold, almost white. A murmur swept through the village.
The island was accepting me.
But just as I thought the trial was ending, a shadow in the crowd caught my attention.
A hooded figure, more motionless than the rest, seemed to be watching me directly. Though their face was hidden, I felt their gaze pierce me like an icy blade.
A shiver ran down my back.
The island accepted me. But not everyone present did.
I sensed more than saw Declan move discreetly along the edge of the circle. He didn't break the ceremony, but his entire body was coiled tension, like a hunter stalking something unseen. His eyes were fixed on the hooded figure.
Lyanna raised her staff adorned with vines and dried flowers and intoned an invocation in a language I didn't understand—but my skin recognized it. Each word vibrated in my bones.
—The new blood has been accepted —the elder proclaimed—. May her bond with the island be sealed tonight and guide the destiny that awaits us.
A gentle wind swept through the clearing, and some villagers' masks trembled. The fire, now golden, cast long, wavering shadows.
I glanced around, searching for the hooded figure—but it had vanished.
An omen hung suspended in the air.
When my eyes met Declan's, I understood that the kiss beneath the stars had been only the beginning. The real thing—the frightening, the inevitable—was just beginning.
After the circle dispersed and the torches began to dim, Declan approached me with measured steps. He stopped at a respectful distance, but his gaze was so intense it felt like a touch.
—You did better than anyone could have expected —he said softly, just for me—. With everything you're facing, with the unknown, you remain steady. You don't break. That isn't common, Sereniah.
I swallowed. His approval was a balm I hadn't known I needed—but also a weight that forced me to be honest.
—I don't want you to think this is easy for me —I said firmly—. Sometimes I don't even understand half of what's happening. Everything is too fast, too intense. Logic screams that I should run. That I should question everything.
He listened without blinking, as if every word were sacred.
—And you do —he said, almost in a whisper.
I nodded.
—I do. All the time. Every step I take, I question twice. But then… —I drew a deep breath— then there are moments like this, when I don't feel like I'm walking toward something unknown. I feel like I'm coming home. As if all of this, as strange as it is, is part of something I already know. Instinctively, I know I belong here. To this land. To this story.
I paused before adding, with a new kind of courage:
—To you.
His expression changed. It wasn't tenderness or desire. It was something older, more devastating. As if those words hurt because of how true they were.
—And you belong to something far greater than you can yet imagine —he said at last, his voice barely a thread, heavy with promise and sorrow.
We remained there in silence. We needed nothing more.
The new blood was not only a sign for the island.It was a sign for us.For what we were.For what we were destined to become.