Kael had always believed that destiny was a lie the wealthy told themselves to justify their fortune. Growing up in the Rust Quarter, where buildings leaned like drunken giants and every meal was a negotiation with hunger, he'd learned that life was just a series of random cruelties punctuated by brief moments of not-suffering.
So when the Mark appeared on his left palm during his shift at the foundry a spiraling silver pattern that seemed to move beneath his skin his first thought wasn't wonder or excitement. It was rage.
"No," he whispered, watching the molten metal pour past him, untouched, as time itself seemed to slow. "Not me. Anyone but me."
But the Marks didn't care about preferences. They appeared on their chosen hosts every decade, transforming ordinary people into Conduits humans capable of channeling the Fragment energies that had shattered the world three centuries ago. It was supposed to be an honor. A gift.
Kael knew better. He'd seen what happened to Conduits from the lower districts. They were conscripted, thrown into the Fractured Lands beyond the city walls, sent to fight the Echoes twisted remnants of the old world that hungered for human essence. Most never returned. Those who did came back changed, hollow-eyed and speaking in fractured sentences about things that shouldn't exist.
"Kael?" His supervisor's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "Your hand by the Fragments, you're Marked!"
The foundry fell silent. Thirty pairs of eyes fixed on him, and Kael saw the mixture of emotions ripple through the crowd: envy, pity, fear, relief that it wasn't them.
"I don't accept it," Kael said, surprising himself with the steadiness of his voice. He clenched his fist, trying to hide the Mark. "There's been a mistake."
"There are no mistakes." The new voice came from the foundry entrance, where a woman in pristine white armor stood framed by the afternoon light. Her presence seemed to change the air itself, making it taste of ozone and something ancient. "The Marks choose based on potential, not preference. You are Kael Varen?"
He wanted to lie, but the Mark on his palm pulsed with warmth, as if answering for him.
"I am Saphira, First Conduit of the Azure Tower. You'll come with me now. Your Awakening ceremony begins at sunset."
"And if I refuse?"
Saphira's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her ice-blue eyes. "The Mark doesn't ask permission. In approximately six hours, your body will begin channeling Fragment energy whether you're trained or not. Without guidance, you'll either burn from the inside out or transform into something... else. The choice is whether you die here among your friends, or survive and learn to control your gift."
Kael looked around the foundry at the soot-stained faces of people who'd been his entire world for eighteen years. His friend Ronan gave him a tight nod, pride fighting with worry on his scarred face. Martha, the cook who'd slipped him extra rations when she thought no one was looking, had tears streaming down her weathered cheeks.
"Can I say goodbye?"
"You have five minutes."
Those five minutes passed like five seconds. Ronan gripped his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Don't let them break you. Remember who you are."
Martha pressed a small cloth bundle into his hands bread and cheese, probably her own dinner. "Stay alive, boy. That's all that matters."
Then he was following Saphira through streets that gradually transformed from rust and rubble to polished stone and impossible architecture. Buildings that defied gravity, gardens where plants grew in geometric patterns, fountains that flowed upward instead of down the wealth of the Inner Rings was built on Fragment manipulation, a casual display of power that most in the Rust Quarter would never witness.
"You're angry," Saphira observed without looking back.
"I'm being dragged away from everything I know to probably die fighting monsters. Anger seems appropriate."
"Most Marked are honored. Excited."
"Most Marked didn't watch their mother waste away because she couldn't afford medicine. Most Marked probably had enough to eat growing up." Kael's voice was sharp. "This isn't a gift. It's a death sentence with extra steps."
Saphira stopped walking. They stood before massive gates carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly. Beyond them, Kael could see the Azure Tower rising like a shard of frozen lightning against the sky.
"You're right," she said quietly. "For people like you, this is often a death sentence. Conduits from the lower districts have a sixty-three percent fatality rate in their first year. Those from wealthy families, who've been preparing their whole lives for the possibility of being Marked, have an eighty-seven percent survival rate."
The casual way she cited those statistics made Kael's stomach turn.
"So why bother bringing me here? Why not let me burn?"
"Because that remaining thirty-seven percent?" Saphira's eyes met his, and for the first time, he saw something other than cold professionalism there something that might have been respect, or possibly regret. "They become the strongest Conduits of their generation. Hunger, desperation, the will to survive against impossible odds these things forge a different kind of power. One that those born to privilege can never quite replicate."
She pushed open the gates, and Kael felt a wave of energy wash over him, making the Mark on his palm burn with silver light.
"Welcome to your Awakening, Kael Varen. Try not to die. I'd hate to lose my wager."
"Your wager?"
A slight smile crossed her face. "I bet my fellow instructors that you'd survive the first month. Try to prove me right. I could use the money."
Despite everything the fear, the anger, the crushing weight of how completely his life had just changed Kael found himself almost laughing. Of course even his survival was just another game for the wealthy.
"I'll survive," he said, surprised by the conviction in his own voice. "Not for you. Not for the Azure Tower. But I'll survive."
"Good." Saphira gestured toward the tower's entrance, where other newly Marked individuals were gathering, most looking far more prepared than Kael felt. "The ceremony begins in three hours. First, we need to determine what kind of Conduit you are. The Mark's placement suggests something unusual. Tell me have you noticed any other changes besides the symbol?"
Kael hesitated, then decided truth was safer than lies. "Time slowed down. When the Mark appeared, everything around me moved like it was underwater."
Saphira's expression shifted to something Kael couldn't read. "Temporal perception. That's... rare. Very rare. Perhaps my wager was more conservative than I thought."
She led him into the tower, and as the doors closed behind them, Kael felt the Mark pulse again a reminder that whether he wanted this or not, his old life was over.
The only question now was whether his new life would last long enough to matter.