The bonfires burned low, their smoke curling like dark fingers into the night sky. Alina stood at the edge of the circle, her palms slick with sweat as the Veil Priestess lifted her arms, chanting words that made the air taste like iron and ash. The gathered villagers held their breath, every face pale, every set of eyes darting nervously toward the flames.
“Step forward,” Serenya commanded, her voice carrying a cruel sweetness that prickled across Alina’s skin. “The Veil will choose its vessel.”
No one moved. The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of wood and the restless whispers of the wind. Alina swallowed hard, pressing her nails into her palms. She hadn’t even wanted to attend the ritual, but absence was not allowed. Every girl her age had to stand within the circle, to
