Chapter One
“Mommy I’m hungry.” My four-year-old little sister Sable said. Her eyes were wide and pleading, honey colored hair a mess of curls.
My mother flashed a worried look, the candlelight casting deep shadows across her face. “I know honey. But the rations were low this week. I’ll get you something in the morning. Try to sleep.”
My heart broke. I could go three days without food before I noticed, such was the life of a Dreg rat. But my younger siblings hadn’t yet reached that level of immunity with hunger. I was the eldest of twelve and since my father died two years ago, we’d barely been able to make ends meet.
“How can we sleep when we’re hungry?” Kess asked my mother. He was seven. He knew better than to ask questions with obvious answers but hunger made even the wise foolish.
“I’ve got a bit of money saved up.” I lied. “I’ll go get some food and be back in an hour.” I began to slip my blistered feet into my tattered boots as my mother peered at me in alarm.
She was breath takingly beautiful once, with thick blonde hair and hazel eyes. But somehow the last three years had aged her twenty. Now her eyes were sunken and hallow and her lips pale and cracked.
My siblings cheered at my words, even the older ones and a stone sank in my gut. If I wasn’t able to score anything they would be disappointed and hungry. A depressing combination.
I stood and grabbed my mother’s old worn wool cloak, the edges frayed and her scent still lingering on the collar. As I slung it over my shoulders she caught my arm and forced me to meet her eyes.
“Brynn Brighton.” She whispered. “You will not steal to feed this family. I can’t have you spending your life in the mines.”
I held her gaze and saw so much desperation in them it made me sick. I loved my mother my entire life, she was sweet, supportive, honest, but I’d never loved her quite as fiercely as I did these past two years. Watching her mourn the loss of my father, take up three jobs to support us. I loved her even more.
“I won’t steal.” I promised, not a single lie on my tongue.
She raised an eyebrow.
“And we can’t eat dirt.” I added hoping she understood the gravity of the situation. My six youngest siblings were skin and bones, the community had helped as much as they could and even the rats were scarce.
She sighed, grasping both sides of my face. “I love you bean.”
My childhood nickname caused an unexpected nostalgia to wash over me. “Love you Mooky.” I told her and she grinned, her molars all missing from tooth rot.
“Be back in an hour.” I promised the eleven little hopeful eyes that watched me leave.
We were all spread apart by one to two years, but even Tyrus my sixteen year old brother and the second eldest, was still a little boy when I looked at him. He had not yet toughened into what life in the Dregs would require of him. I was trying to help him retain his childhood as much as possible, but he’d probably have to get a second job soon.
Pulling my cloak up, I kept to the shadows, careful not to be seen exiting the Dregs after curfew. The last thing I needed was another mark on my record. I was one mark away from spending a year in the mines and never seeing the light of day again.
I pressed my back against the cracked stone buildings and piles of rubble as I passed under the lamp lit alley and towards the Elite city. The scent of rot and smoke clung to the Dregs and only lessened the further I got away from it.
The tall golden spires loomed high in the sky, like the spears of the Creator Himself, a sign of the opulent wealth the city held. Trash heap digging in Aerlyn carried a punishment of life in the mines. I hadn’t been willing to risk it before but my friend Fiona said she’d done it plenty of times without getting caught. She even told me where the gap in the fence was. She said the elite were always drinking and hosting parties. They had hired help from outside the city, so seeing a magicless walking around in dusty boots and clothes with holes in it wouldn’t immediately tip them off that I’d broken in. It would just look like I was there to take out the trash. Fiona’s family looked well fed and just last week I’d seen her mother in what looked like brand new boots, so I decided the risk was worth it.
I found the gap in the fence easily and slipped my small frame through it as I quickly rushed to the street with the most buildings to hide me in their shadows.
I lost my focus for a moment at the sight of the clean cobblestone roads with burning oil lamp every ten feet. I paused at a giant white washed brick house with tall glass front windows. The little flower beds that framed the stoop of the house I stood next to were filled with pink peonies. My mothers favorite. I imagined her for a second living here. She’d spend the day gardening and pulling fresh herbs for our dinner. And there would only be two children to a room, instead of six. We’d be happy, and well fed and warm in the winter.
A small dog yapping ripped me from my trance.
Focus, Brynn, I scolded myself, and thought of my siblings’ hollow faces. I pressed on, down a quiet alley where the sounds of laughter and music echoed off marble walls. Inside the brightly lit building, the Elite danced and drank, their fine silks glittering under crystal chandeliers.
Outside, in the shadows, I found what I’d come for: a massive silver trash canister.
I grinned.
“Score,” I whispered, rushing over and prying open the lid. Inside was a half-eaten loaf of bread, smeared icing from discarded cake, crumpled napkins and untouched pastries. I glanced skyward.
Thank the Creator. We’d eat for another week off of what I saw in that can.
I set down my bag right outside the dumpster and dove in, getting straight to work. From what Fiona told me, the Elite would just burn this stuff, making the air over my home in the Dregs ashy and putrid and wasting perfectly edible food. I’d salvage what I could tonight and maybe sell the rest at market in the morning. I slipped on my mother’s cloth gloves and started to sift through the trash. With each loaf of bread or tray of cookies my stomach growled. There wasn’t anything nasty in the trash. It was ALL food. Like they’d taken one small bite for taste and tossed the rest. Anger flared to life at such waste and mounted higher when I reached perfectly good meat pastries. There wasn’t even a bite taken out of them. They were still warm!
Unable to contain myself I shoved one in my mouth, chewing greedily as salty juices splashed across my tongue. I bit into a large piece of potato and moaned. There was a sharp tanginess I couldn’t place. Was it mustard seed? Cumin? Whatever it was I loved it. My siblings would love it too, I thought as I counted nine full pastries and two crushed ones. I loaded them in my bag and wiped my greasy fingers on my pants.
The food was rich and filled with butter, I was already full. I didn’t eat anything close to this on a daily basis. Only on feast days.
I decided right then and there that I’d have to do this more often. No wonder why Fiona’s family was looking so healthy. Heap diving wasn’t glamourous but it would feed my siblings a whole hades of a lot faster than my assigned jobs in the Dregs.
The sudden sound of footsteps behind me caused ice water to flush through my veins. I recoiled, crouching behind the large trash can and hid. I couldn’t be caught in this neighborhood. It would spell my death if the Magistrate were to hear about it. You only lasted about five years working in the mines before the black cough took you. I’d be dead by twenty three. I’d heard the food was pretty regular there though, so there was that.
I waited thirty seconds, a minute. There was nothing I could hear over the boisterous partying inside. Maybe I’d imagined the footsteps? Either way I had enough food so it was time to get the hades out of here and back to my hungry little brothers and sisters.
I peeked out from the trashcan and saw nothing but the dark alleyway and the light of the street beyond. I tip toed over to my bag stuffed with food and hefted it over my shoulder. That’s when a scuffling sounded from the shadows and I froze. I immediately lowered my head as low as protocol demanded and backed up slowly. Then I watched as shiny black leather shoes staggered closer to me, in a drunken shuffle.
A highborn!
No one had shoes that new, and that clean, but for the Elite themselves.
I scrambled to back away even more, lowering my head so far down that it pained my neck. But in my haste I tripped over the hulking bag of bread and sweets and landed at the foot of the highborn! My fingers touching the tips of his shoe.
Oh Creator I was going to die.
My fingers touched his toes. I touched him!
I scrambled to right myself and smooth my clothes. Keeping my head lowered, I held my hands out, palms up as protocol demanded. I didn’t dare speak until spoken too. I barely breathed. I had broken enough rules tonight. Touching a highborn without permission was a full twelve marks. I was dead if he reported me. Public execution.
Dreg rats, as the Elite called us, were known to carry the pox, the plague, and the wet lung and there was reason we were not to touch the Highborn. My hands begin to shake with nerves. The thought of the cold dark confinement of the mines would be a welcome relief compared to the public execution I was about to endure.
I risked a quick glance at the man and frowned. He looked so young, barely twenty two. His hair was golden and slicked back across his head and he wore a tight tailored black suit to match his nice shoes. His nose tilted slightly upward like most of the Elite class and his skin was like a porcelain doll, he’d never worked out in the sun a day in his life. He was so clean, not a scrap of dirt between his fingernails. He fixed me with an inquisitive gaze, and for some reason I couldn’t look away. Twelve marks for me and hanging by the rope come morning.
I noticed small black veins growing up the sides of his neck and wondered if it was his magic. Was he powering up to kill me? He eyed my bag, and then the trashcan behind me.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, his tone smooth and compassionate.
I’d met plenty of highborn before, they all spoke to my people with venom and hatred. He seemed different and because he asked me a question, I was allowed to speak.
“I’m always hungry sir,” I answered honestly. “Please don’t report me. I fell, I didn’t mean to touch you. I would never. I got the pox when I was five, I have the marks to prove it. I’m immune.” I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up to show the cluster of scars around my arm. Once you got the pox you were immune, surely he would see I wasn’t infected. If I had the wet lung or the plague I’d be bed ridden. I was healthy.
“I’m not worried about the pox.” He chuckled and I blinked to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. The black vein-like magic was growing up his neck, closer to his face.
I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. Was he going to report me? He seemed like he wanted to have a conversation and I’d do that if it kept me from my death. He stumbled a bit backward then and began to pant.
I rushed forward, though careful not to touch him. “Are you okay?”
Something felt wrong.
I’d originally thought he was drunk but his speech was normal. Now I wondered if he were ill.
“As okay as a man can be when he meets his death.” His voice was weak and resigned.
My eyes bugged. Death?
“What? Should I get help?” I eyed the back door of the party. If I did call for help it would out me for sure but the black veins were now clouding into the young handsome man’s eyes as they turned the color of ink.
He stumbled until his back hit the wall and then slid downward, creeping slowly towards the ground until he was slumped at an odd angle.
“Help!” I yelled into the alleyway as I knelt before the man.
He reached out and grasped my hand firmly. “No.” He commanded and I froze kneeling before him.
He touched me. The Elite didn’t touch the Dreg rats. Ever.
“What can I do?” I knew there were healers with magic, maybe one of them were in the party?
He wouldn’t stop staring into my eyes and now that his were completely back it was unnerving.
At this closeness I was able to glance down at the open collar of his shirt and a gasp ripped from my throat when I saw the House of Draven Heir mark on his chest.
He was one of the seven elite ruling families.
“Lord I didn’t know. I—”
He hovered his palm flat over my chest, high up where my throat met my collarbone and I flinched.
The heirs of the seven houses, like all highborn, were magic users, but this one was powerful enough to kill me with one touch. The Heir held the most magic in the family and the Heir of the Draven house was known for particularly powerful magic. There would be no use fighting. I would miss my mother, my little sisters and brothers. I felt regret that not only would they have to go to bed hungry tonight but they’d have to mourn my death come sunrise. If I was going to die, I would be brave, my mother had taught me that.
“Do your worst,” I told him through gritted teeth.
He smiled then, a radiant, white toothed smile that only the Elite had. Then he brought his palm down hard onto my chest. Shocks flew into my body like a millions volts of electricity, but instead of pain… I felt… power. A scream ripped from my throat and my body began to vibrate. Instead of draining my life force, I felt ignited with… magic. Strength poured through my skin like I was being bathed in the light of the Creator Himself. My entire body shook as my heart raced and the whole time he held my gaze, breathing magic over me. Purple, blue, orange swirls of light arced off of my body and I thought I might explode with power. Was this how they killed? They filled you with their magic until you exploded?
Then just as quickly as he’d started it, he pulled away and the sensation left me. I sat there trembling, unsure what the hades had just happened and what to do. He didn’t kill me but he did something, what was that?
Slowly, he leaned in close to my ear, bringing the scent of sage and cedarwood with him, “You have been initiated into the Arcane Trials. Magic for all. Equality.” He whispered and tucked a white note into my hand before gasping for air.
“What?” I shrieked.
Then he met my gaze with his black one. “Tell her I loved her more than anything.” With those final words he collapsed before me, tongue rolling out of his mouth as he breathed no more.
What… just happened? What did he just say? Initiated! The Arcane trials?
This isn’t happening…
The Initiation didn’t work on the low born, the magicless, not that anyone would try it. He must have been mistaken… Maybe he was drunk and now he was dead!
I rushed forward, pressing my fingers to his neck. There was no pulse. I’d unfortunately dealt a lot with the dead. People in the Dregs got sick or injured often. I knew a lifeless body when I saw one, it was one of my jobs.
I sat frozen in shock as I processed what he’d just said.
Once every five years an Elite Heir from one of the seven houses either competed themselves or invited another magic user into the Arcane Trials. The winner would get a new form magic to pass on their entire blood lineage. It was a huge deal and they did NOT waste it on magicless lowborns like me. The Elite used it as a control. They sold the invitations to the highest bidder or gave it away to their powerful family members in the hopes of gaining new magic. Magicless lowborns did not get invited. EVER.
The letter shook in my unsteady hand and I peered down at the wax seal. When I did, something on my chest caught my eye. A small glowing line peeked out of the top of my shirt.
A gasp ripped from my throat.
With shaking hands, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my torn blouse.
“Hades!” I wheezed, stumbling backwards and falling onto my butt. There, right at the base of my collarbone, was a glowing delicate silver triangle tattoo. The mark of a Magic User. All Magic Users had a symbol on their chest, each one unique. The invitation to the trials was said to leave a mark from the sponsor. Inside of the symbol that currently branded me was the House of Draven crest. A raven wing sat inside the triangle burning a deep blue color.
Under that was a wolf paw print. The symbol of the Arcane Trials, a series of tests so deadly you bound yourself to a Wolfkin beforehand in order to have better chances at surviving.
What the magicless hades was going on here! I couldn’t wear this mark… I didn’t have magic.
I stared at the dark night sky in complete and utter shock. The letter felt like it was burning a hole in my hand and so I opened it. I was lucky enough to have attended Dreg-born school until I was twelve and so I could read the letter easily.
To the Chosen,
You have been formally selected by your Sponsor to enter the Arcane Trials, an honor few will ever receive. Where the worthy claims power and the unworthy are consumed.
This ancient rite stands as the most powerful test of strength, will, and worth among the Elite. Victory will grant you a new branch of magic to pass down through your entire bloodline, altering your legacy forever.
Report to the Hall of Binding at 0800 sharp tomorrow to choose your weapon and bond to your wolf.
Failure to appear will result in disqualification and forfeiture of your Sponsor’s mark.
Stand with purpose. Bleed with pride. Rise with power.
With authority,
Magistrate Corvessa Solvaris
High Seat of the Trial Council
Aerlyn
I stood, panting. I was in complete shock and denial. I, Brynn Brighton, a lowborn from the Dregs, was currently wearing a magic user mark and had been initiated to the Arcane trials.
Holy hades!
Chapter Two
The second I walked into my house, one of my middle sisters rushed at me, nostrils flaring. “I smell sweet bread.”
I gave her a nervous laugh, pinching my shirt closed to cover my mark and trying to hide what I’d just been through as I dumped the bread, pastries and cookies out on the small dinner table. What happened next was sad and comical at the same time. My eleven siblings launched themselves at the table like a herd of feral cats and began claiming the best pieces of bread for themselves.
“Do we have to ration it?” Tyrus looked at me wide eyed.
I shook my head. “Fill your bellies.”
Because I couldn’t bear to tell them to only take a bite. Cheers and whoops rang throughout the house and they began to gorge on the food.
Next I peered across the room at my mother who had tears in her eyes. Was she happy or sad? I didn’t know anymore. Ever since my father died last year she seemed to be barely hanging on. He was her soulmate, her other half. Even in hard times, which were a plenty here in the Dregs, this house was always filled with laughter and love. My father was always playing pranks on the little children or making fun of himself to get my mother to smile. Now that he was gone, my mother hadn’t smiled much. Especially since he took his eight silvers a week salary with him when he died. I was doing my best to pick up the slack but I knew it wasn’t enough. My mother looked skinnier every week.
“You miss him?” I asked her.
She just nodded.
I pulled out a wrapped meat pastry, the nicest one that I was careful not to smoosh, and handed it to my mother.
She glanced at it as if it were a snake. “Did you steal these?”
“No. I swear on the Creator.” I held my hand over my heart.
She frowned, taking the pastry and took a small nibble before handing it back.
“No it’s yours. I’ve had one and there is enough for everyone.”
She seemed surprised at that and it made me realize how bad things had gotten around here.
She eyed the children behind me, all eating their fill and talking about how good everything tasted and wondering if I’d robbed a catering cart.
“Mom there’s enough. Eat.” I commanded more forcefully than I usually spoke to her. It was late, nearly ten PM and way past the littles bedtime but who knew when we’d have this kind of luxury again.
My mother took another bite, and another, and I watched as she closed her eyes and savored the flavor. She wasn’t asking where I got them, I think she knew. She’d heard me talking about Fiona trash diving in the Elite city before.
I stroked my finger over the mark on my chest, just underneath my shirt, and chewed my lip. I was unsure how to even explain to her what had just happened and what I was going to do about it.
“Mom… I have to talk to you about something that happened tonight.” I finally managed.
She’d finished her pastry and a frown pulled at her thin lips.
My mother seemed to sense that this was private and so she stepped into one of our shared bedrooms where three sets of bunk beds took up most of the space. After I shut the door, I stood in front of her, heart pounding in my chest.
“What is it?” She asked.
How did I even begin? Did I show her the mark? The letter? Or just start telling her what happened. I was silent too long and she began to panic, eyes going wide.
“What is it? Did you get caught going to the Elite city? Are you heading to the Mines? Just tell me Brynn I can’t take the suspense.”
“I got initiated into the Arcane trials!” I blurted out.
My mother was silent a beat and then she laughed, and it lightened the entire room. Her genuine laugh was airy and musical and carefree. She hadn’t laughed like that since my father was alive. It would make me happy under different circumstances.
“Oh Brynn, I missed your fathers sense of humor. Thank you for that.” She wiped a tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye, still grinning.
She wasn’t going to believe me. It was too outlandish. I had to prove it to her.
Peeling my shirt open, I bared my mark.
She hissed, stumbling backward.
“Wipe that off before the Watchers see you! Impersonating an Elite is punishable by death!”
“Mom, its real. The house of Draven Heir initiated me and it felt like a thousand lightning bolts ran through my body.” I told her.
“You spoke to the House of Draven heir!” She screamed and my brothers and sisters outside the room quieted.
“Shhh.” I scolded her. The walls of our home were thin, my father built it with scrap metal and wood over a decade ago, I didn’t want our neighbors to hear this conversation.
My mother wrung her hands, eyeing the mark again on my chest and shook her head. “Why would a Draven Heir sponsor you for the Arcane trial? A laugh? A bet?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Considering he’d been on his death bed, I didn’t think so. I didn’t want to tell her about his death. She’d surely faint.
“He said something when he marked me mother, something unforgivable. Treasonous.”
My mother’s lips quivered as she leaned in. “What?”
I let my hands fall away from her. “He said, Magic for all. Equality.” I whispered.
My mother’s sharp intake of breath gave me chills.
Her fingers came up to clamp around my mouth. “Talk of equality is punishable by death.” She hissed. Our house had only a two foot gap between the next one and the next. There wasn’t much privacy out in the Dregs.
I nodded. “I know.”
We were quiet a moment… she stared at my chest while I handed her the letter and with a sigh, she read it.
“This looks real. Creator help me, it all looks real.” She glanced at my mark again.
“Is it real mom.” I told her.
She shook her head. “Initiations to the trail go for thousands of silvers on the black market. Why would he waste is on a magicless?”
“Waste it!” I snapped.
My mom scoffed. “Well you’re not going.”
I stayed silent.
“You are not going.” My mother said again firmly and for the first time in two years I saw some of her spunk back.
I frowned. “I am going. I have the mark. I have the letter.”
I hadn’t really decided if I wanted to go until this very moment. Until my mother told me I couldn’t.
Her mouth set into a thin line as she glanced at my chest another time, “You’re barely eighteen! You have no magic, you’ve never attended an Elite school in your life. You don’t have a weapon, nor have you ever been trained to fight–”
My fists balled, lip quivering as tears lined my eyes.
“You think I’m not good enough!” I screamed.
She shrank back rubbing her temples. “No, I meant you weren’t raised for that life. And I won’t send my daughter to die for the Elite’s entertainment.”
“I wasn’t raised for that life? And whose fault is that!” I spat at her, the tears now flowing freely.
“Not mine!” She shouted back. I was pretty sure the neighbors could hear us at this point and I didn’t care.
“Exactly Mom. We have no choice. We are born into this life, given a label, and forced to work for next to nothing. We go to bed with empty bellies and we can’t even dream of full ones because we know it will never happen. Well, I have a choice now. I’m going!”
She shook her head. “Brynn, you don’t understand them. This is some mean joke. They will ridicule you, and then they will kill you.”
“I have the mark and the letter. I’m an initiate. I have a sponsor.” Even though he was currently dead. “And I will bond a Wolfkin who will protect me.” That was the entire reason the Elite’s bonded Wolfkin before the trial, for protection as they moved through the different obstacles. I was convincing myself more than her at this point. She sighed and walked over to the corner of the room grabbing a broken piece of mirror. She buffed the mirror with her dirty shirt tail.
“Look,” She told me.
I grabbed the slice of mirror and looked. Tears swam in my green eyes, I had black ash caked in my hair line, the crease around my nose and in my ears. I had a small scar on my chin from when I was a child. My normally silver hair was a grayish black, covered in soot. It was obvious who I was, a Dreg rat, a magicless, untouchable.
“I’m just trying to protect you.” My mother whimpered.
I nodded handing her back the mirror shard. “I understand that mom, but I’m not worried about them hurling insults at me. Think about what is being offered here. If I win the trial, our entire bloodline gets magic and becomes Elite overnight.” I whispered.
My mother gasped, dropping the mirror and it shattered into a dozen pieces.
I didn’t think she’d put it together until that very moment. The opportunity to raise up my mother, my two aunts, my uncle, and all of their children. Forty of us in all. My entire bloodline would be given magic. That’s how it worked.
“Honey, winning the trials with no magic. I love you, I think you are so smart and beautiful, but do you really think it’s possible?”
No. I didn’t. I was pretty sure I’d die within the first hour. Probably even before that, when I bonded the Wolfkin. They said it was a painful and powerful process and that alone might kill me, but I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. Because there was a small chance. If I bonded a powerful Wolfkin and survived it, I might not need magic. He would protect me until I could win the Trials and get the magic. Then I’d become an Elite, I’d become untouchable in a different way.
“I have to try. Father would tell me to do it.” I said.
“He’d never want you to be hurt.” She challenged.
I nodded. “But he’d tell me to follow my heart and my heart says to do this.” I countered.
I saw the moment she relented, her eyes cast downward, she just nodded once.
“If you have decided than, May the Creator bless your way.”
I didn’t sleep a single minute that night.
Sept 19th release. This is book one of a two part duology!
Dying to finish this now … but I can anxiously wait for the release.