The Selection
The village was quiet under the pale light of dusk. Riyah sat on the worn wooden steps outside her home, her knees drawn to her chest, listening to the sound of her stepmother's voice slicing through the evening air. Every command, every word dripping with disdain, reminded her that she belonged nowhere. Yariel, her step-sister, stood nearby, smirking, arms crossed as if she enjoyed seeing Riyah shrink under the weight of their cruelty.
Riyah did not respond. She had learned that any protest only earned a sharp rebuke or punishment. At sixteen, she had grown accustomed to this life of neglect and quiet suffering. She carried a talent few knew about. Hidden deep within, a power that had never been tested, never been unleashed. To the rest of the world, she was ordinary, invisible, and unremarkable.
Then came the sound that stirred the village: the rhythmic clatter of carriage wheels on stone. Dust swirled in the evening breeze as a convoy of sleek, black carriages entered the square. At the head sat a woman with silver hair that shimmered in the fading sunlight, her posture commanding, her gaze sharp. This was Lady Selara Vael, an elite scout from Eclipse Sigil Academy, the academy that trained the most promising young talents across the kingdom.
Villagers gathered quickly, voices hushed with excitement and awe. Children stepped forward one by one, each attempting to demonstrate their gifts. Sparks danced in the air. Shadows twisted unnaturally. Small bursts of flame lit the square. The strongest of them drew gasps, but Lady Selara's attention seemed distant, measured, searching.
Riyah's stepmother pushed Yariel forward with obvious pride. Yariel raised her hands, and shadow tendrils curled around her fingers, twisting and snapping like living ropes. Lady Selara's eyes flicked to her briefly, nodding slightly. Yariel's power was strong, Stage Three or Four by any measure. She bowed politely, and the villagers clapped, their pride swelling.
When Lady Selara's gaze fell on Riyah, she paused. Riyah had done nothing, said nothing. She did not raise her hands or summon any trick. She merely stood, quiet, her dark hair falling over her face, her posture calm and still. There was nothing extraordinary to see. Yet Lady Selara's eyes lingered, narrowing slightly. Her gaze held a strange weight, almost like a quiet recognition.
"You," Lady Selara said, her voice low and precise, "step forward."
Riyah obeyed. Her stepmother's smile tightened, a faint flicker of annoyance crossing her face before she replaced it with pride. Yariel's expression remained unchanged, confident. The villagers whispered among themselves, glances flitting between the two sisters.
Lady Selara's voice softened just enough for Riyah to hear. "You are unique. You will come with us. Pack your belongings. We depart tonight for Eclipse Sigil Academy."
Riyah's chest tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. Her stepmother's forced smile did not waver. "Finally," she said, her voice loud enough for the villagers to hear. "This one will leave us behind. My daughters are worthy, but this girl… perhaps she will find her place elsewhere."
Yariel's dark eyes followed Riyah closely. "We'll see you off properly," she said. Her voice had a calm edge to it, a promise hidden in its softness that Riyah could not decipher.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Riyah prepared only what she needed. She folded her few belongings carefully and tied them neatly in a cloth bundle. She moved silently through the house, ignoring her stepmother's orders and Yariel's occasional sneers. By nightfall, the carriages were ready, and Lady Selara waited at the edge of the village square.
Riyah climbed into the lead carriage. The interior was dim, illuminated by faint lanterns. She held her bundle on her lap, her fingers tightening around the fabric. Outside, the village was quiet, the sun now hidden beneath clouds. She did not notice Yariel following her to the roof of the house, the step-sister's silhouette merging with the shadows.
"Sit with me for a moment," Yariel called softly, though Riyah did not recognize the tone. It sounded almost like concern, almost like kindness. "Let's say goodbye."
Riyah hesitated. Her instincts told her something felt off, but she could not place it. She climbed onto the rooftop ledge, perching beside Yariel as she had so many times before in childhood. The night air tugged at her hair. The village below seemed still, peaceful.
Yariel's voice cut through the quiet. "I always loved you," she said, faintly, a cruel edge beneath her words. "But no one ever saw you."
Before Riyah could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows behind Yariel. Tall, broad, and silent, he moved like a predator. This was Toren, Yariel's secret ally.
Suddenly, pain tore through Riyah's belly. She gasped, clutching at the wound as warmth spread across her hands. Her eyes widened.
"Yariel, what are you doing?" she cried. Her voice broke as she tried to find a balance on the rooftop.
Her step-sister did not flinch. "Everyone loves you," she shouted, "but they don't see you. Not like I see you. Not like I should have."
Another stab, and Riyah's knees buckled. Her hands slipped over the railing as she struggled to stay upright. She pleaded, her voice shaking. "Please… stop…"
Yariel's face hardened. Her grip on Riyah's shoulder was firm, unyielding. With a swift motion, she shoved Riyah over the edge. The girl's body tumbled through the night air. Her screams tore through the village, echoing against the walls of houses, mixing with the wind and the rustling of leaves.
Riyah hit the ground hard, the impact stealing her breath. Pain radiated through her arms and legs. Her hands were slick with blood, her dark clothes torn and soaked. The world seemed to tilt and blur. Above, the rooftop stood empty, the two figures watching silently.
The villagers ran, startled by the commotion. Lady Selara's voice carried faintly on the wind. "You are unique," she had said earlier. Those words were all that remained in Riyah's mind as she lay still, the cold night air pressing against her.
In that moment, nothing moved except the faint shimmer of light beneath her skin, subtle and hidden. Riyah's life seemed to hang by a thread, the events of the night closing around her like a cage. She had been chosen, yet betrayed. She had no power to defend herself, only the spark within that had yet to awaken.
The night swallowed the village in silence again, but the faint glow on her chest was a whisper that this story was far from over.