Rook paced the dimly lit corridor of the Institution's intake wing, the fractured rune on his wrist throbbing with every heartbeat. The cold stone walls pressed in, muffling the distant murmurs of other initiates preparing for their own trials and lessons. But his mind was on Mira.
The news had come quietly, almost as if the guards didn't want him to hear: Mira had failed. No affinity. No place in the Institution. Just the cold streets of Blackgate, alone.
His fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. A storm of guilt, helplessness, and rage churned inside him. She was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to protect her.
But the Empire's judgement was absolute.
Rook's jaw tightened as he forced himself to breath, to focus. There was no room for weakness here, not if he wanted to survive, let alone fight back.
His fractured rune pulsed faintly, as if echoing his turmoil. It wasn't a blaze, not yet, but it would one day be real.
And maybe that flicker was enough.
The cold stone corridor felt suffocating, narrowing around Rook like the walls of a cell. He paced back and forth, the rune burning with a dull ache that matched the turmoil inside of him.
The words echoed in his mind, no resonance, cleansed. Mira's fate was sealed. No institution, no chance, no escape.
How could this happen?
She's so smart... so quick...
Rook's throat tightened as a lump rose in his chest. The though of Mira, alone in Blackgate's cold streets, exposed and vulnerable, tore at him. He remembered her wide eyes when he told her he'd protect her. How could he keep that promise now?
A since memory surfaced, Mira laughing softly as she balanced a stolen scrap of bread between her fingers, her stubborn smile lighting up even the darker alleys. That smile now felt miles away, buried beneath the weight of reality.
He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms, tasting blood and iron. The pain grounded him, but it was also fueling a growing fire inside.
I won't let this break us. I won't let the Empire win
Rook's gaze fell on the flickering rune, a small, fragile thing against the vast shadow of the Institution. It wasn't the blazing mark of the Highbloods, but it was his, proof he could fight.
Slowly, he rose, pushing the despair to the back of his mind. The road ahead would be brutal, filled with hardship. But he would endure.
Because for Mira. For Blackgate. For himself.
That faint flicker was just the beginning.