"When the Celestials fell silent, their essence did not face, it scattered. The power sought new vessels. It found them not in kings, but in the unwilling."
— From the Chronicles of the Celestial Conclave
—
They were already well into day two of the Autumn Equinox. The victors from the Grand Hunt would be present tonight — to partake in the sacred binding ritual that marked the closing of the Equinox.
Noelis stood before the mirror as two silent attendants worked to prepare her. They moved with practiced precision, smoothing, pinning, adjusting. The gown they laid out for her was a silken grey so pale it shimmered like frost. When she stepped into it, the fabric clung to the curves of her body, flowing along her arms to her wrists and down her body in one elegant, sweep that kissed the floor.
The silk was so fine it felt almost translucent against her skin. Her undergarments were also silk with laced trimmings but given the thin fabric of the dress, she might as well have worn none at all.
Her deep chestnut hair was brushed with care. The upper half was drawn back and secured with two golden pins shaped like crossed feathers. Her attendants dusted her cheeks with a faint coral hue made from crushed dried petals, just as a hard knock echoed from the door.
It was time.
An opaque veil was lowered over her face, soft and gauzy, muting the world into pale light and shadow. Noelis took one last look at her reflection. They had done a good job making her look effortlessly beautiful. Purity in its provocative form. She took one last look out the window as she was guided out of the chamber and out onto the carriage that took her away from the townhouse that had been her residence for the past month.
Over a century ago, the Darkness had descended upon the realm. For thousands of years, the realm's borders were guarded by Celestial Guardians — divine beasts of immense power who kept the balance between the kingdoms. The Snow Tiger, the Midnight Bear, the Fire Phoenix, and the Multitailed Fox were but a few of their fabled forms.
Then, one day, the Darkness came.
It swept across the world like a storm of shadow, devouring everything in its path. Forests, cities, entire legions were destroyed and with it, any trace of the Celestial Guardians were erased.
For years, the lands lay silent beneath that suffocating black. Those who survived did so only because they had recognised and listened to the signs. Harbingers and prophets had warned of the impending doom and some prudent rulers built great underground shelters with immense supplies.
When the Darkness finally lifted, the survivors emerged to a world without order. The Guardians did not return and with Kingdoms fractured, borders vanished, and chaos filled the void. Rebuilding life was a monumental task; redefining territories was worse. Without the Guardians to hold ambition in check, rulers turned upon one another. Wars erupted. Thrones fell. The realm's peace became a relic of memory.
Slowly borders were drawn and out of war came allegiances. Then, a decade ago, the Markings began to appear.
They manifested in a few men, but far more upon young women. Iridescent patterns shimmered faintly on their skin — sigils that mirrored the forms of the extinct Celestial Guardians. And with them came Manna, strong energies that could be channeled for a variety of uses as well as special gifts: strength, healing, control over the elements, visions of the unseen.
The Marked were revered and leaders coveted them seeing these as tools to enhance their power and influence.
For Noelis it started innocently enough when she was in her graduation year at the Academy. A strange tingling in her fingers. A soft glow that flickered beneath her skin when she was tired or frightened. She ignored it, dismissing it as exhaustion from her studies at the Academy. But then came the nights of hot and cold flashes, the bouts of fever that left her drenched in sweat.
Her roommates, alarmed, had gone to the Headmistress who in turn, contacted the Celestial Conclave.
The emissaries arrived within days — serene, expressionless, cloaked in white. They whisked her from her classes, subjected her to strange tasks she didn't understand,but otherwise spoke little. After weeks of rituals and assessments, they confirmed what Noelis already feared.
She was one of the Marked.
From that moment, her life was no longer her own.
Now she stood before a pair of massive wooden doors, their carvings depicting celestial beasts locked in eternal combat. Two escorts flanked her in silence. Beyond the doors, she could hear footsteps, laughter and banter; on her side of the door, the air was heavy and still.
Noelis stood with five other girls, all veiled and dressed in silks of pale hues — ivory, silver, soft lilac, and blush. The gowns were cut differently, covering everything that needed to be decently covered while revealing the contours of their feminine figures.
When the low hum of a gong vibrated through the hall, the chaperones moved quickly, ensuring every veil and hem was in place and then the great doors creaked open.
A flood of golden light and music poured through the threshold as the procession began its slow, measured walk along the crimson carpet that cut through the crescent-shaped hall.
Every gaze turned to them.
The hall was vast and glittering — walls of marble veined with gold, chandeliers casting fractured light upon the gathered nobility. At its far end rose a dais, upon which stood an altar of onyx stone. At its center rested a great black orb, glowing faintly as if with a life of its own.
The officiant was an elderly man Noelis did not recognise. His long hair and beard, streaked silver and white, shimmered under the torchlight. He wore a robe of pure white embroidered with gold patterns that caught the light as he moved.
Noelis was the last to reach the dais. Like the others before her, she was positioned to face the hall — to face them.
The officiant lifted his hands for silence.
"Your Majesties and esteemed guests," he began, his voice deep and steady. "We give thanks to the Celestials for another year free of the Darkness that once consumed our world."
He recited the traditional verses — praise to the light, to the Guardians long lost, to the Conclave who guided them. Then, at last, he reached what everyone had come for.
"The Celestial Conclave has scoured every land to find those still marked by the Celestials' touch. ㅛears have passed since this gift first graced our people, but its reach wanes. This year, through the efforts of our finest emissaries, we bring before you six Tributes who bear the Mark."
A wave of murmurs swept across the audience. Surprise. Disappointment. The last unveiling had yielded twenty-three Tributes.
Noelis could feel the watchful glazes deepen, the pairs of eyes devouring her from beneath her veil.
Despite the veil and layers of silk, she felt exposed. The dress molded to her curves, a silhouette designed not for comfort but for display. Though the hall's air was cool, a sheen of heat prickled along her spine.
Her gaze flickered once toward the crowd. The men — nobles, warriors, courtiers — watched with open curiosity. Mixed with desire, envy and greed. The Tributes were prizes. ㅍessels of divine power to be bound, claimed, and controlled.
The officiant's voice rang again.
"Three Houses were victorious in the Grand Hunt yesterday. Their skill and sacrifice honor this city and the Autumn Equinox itself. The results of their hunt are warming the stomachs of everyone in the City tonight. "
Applause broke across the hall as their names were called and three victors rose from their seats before striding toward the altar.
Noelis froze. Her breath caught sharply beneath the veil as recognition struck her.
Elarion, House of Ardenne.
Calen, House of Drakonus.
Alixon, House of Tharoz.
Her stomach twisted.