19: Humiliation Ritual

LUCIEN

On the day of the trial, Hera wasn’t picking up her call.

I wasn’t surprised, but I stared at my phone, as if her name would light up the screen if I stared at it long enough, and she would offer me a solution.

It didn’t happen, so I called again anyway, but it went straight to voicemail.

Of course.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and paced my room, footsteps heavy against the floorboards. The walls felt smaller than usual, like they were closing in on me, taunting me. Outside, the sun was already high. 

Too high.

They weren’t bluffing. They really picked the perfect day for this trial because even with my daylight ring on, I could feel the heat radiating through me.

I stopped near the window and looked at the strip of sunlight cutting through the room. It looked harmless. Warm. Ordinary.

Then I looked at my daylight ring, staring at it before I finally took it off.

For a second, I just held it in my palm, jaw clenched. I didn’t need to do this. I already knew the answer. I have known it since I was a child.

Still, I stepped forward and extended my hand into the light.

Pain exploded instantly.

My skin blistered on contact, the burn sharp and painful. I hissed and jerked my hand back, heart pounding as smoke curled faintly from my seared knuckles. 

“Fuck,” I cussed with a hiss. 

I immediately slipped the ring back on with shaking fingers, clenching my hand into a fist until the pain dulled and my knuckles began to heal.

Weak.

The word settled heavily in my chest.

I hated it.

I was supposed to be untouchable. The strongest thing walking this earth. A hybrid. The Hybrid. A mistake nature should never have allowed to exist because of how powerful I was supposed to be.

And yet a fucking sunbeam could bring me to my fucking knees? Pathetic.

My phone rang. I froze, then I saw the name on the screen.

It was Scarlett.

Relief hit me harder than I expected. I answered immediately.

“Hey,” I said, my voice rough.

“Lucien,” she said softly. “I’ve been calling. Are you okay?”

I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. 

“I’m still breathing.”

She sighed. 

“It kills me that I can’t be there with you today.”

“I wish you were,” I admitted. The words came easier than I expected.

There was a brief pause. 

“Have you heard from Hera?”

“No,” I said. “It’s a dead end.”

“She’ll come through,” Scarlett said quickly. “She has to. She won’t risk losing the financial backing you provide. She’s not that stupid.”

Her optimism was gentle, and she clearly meant well, but it didn’t help.

“Yeah,” I said, though I didn’t believe it.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Time had run out.

“It’s time,” I said quietly. “I have to go.”

“Lucien,” she started, her voice tightening. “We’ll find a way. We always do. I promise we will get a cure—”

I didn’t let her finish before I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. False hope was worse than none at all. 

Besides, if I were going to die today, then the cure would be practically useless. If this was how it ended, then so be it.

I straightened my jacket, took one last look at the sunlight spilling across the room, and turned toward the door.

The council was waiting.

****

The city council hall was already waiting for me when I arrived. All of them were too hostile. I felt it the moment I walked up to them. 

No one greeted me properly—no bowed heads. No respect. Just cold looks and measured distance, like I was already something contaminated.

“Follow us,” one of them said, not bothering to use my name.

I did.

They led me through long corridors until we reached a massive room at the far end of the building. It was empty. No seats. No witnesses. Just open space and a ceiling made entirely of tempered glass.

It was a skyline, and the sun hovered directly above it, but the glass held the sun's beams from penetrating, so I was safe.

For now. 

“Strip,” another council member said.

I looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Down to your briefs,” another council member clarified, eyes sharp. “Everything. We need to ensure nothing is concealing your nature.”

I clenched my jaw.

This was deliberate—humiliation wrapped in procedure.

Still, I did it anyway.

I removed my jacket. Then my shirt. My shoes. My belt. Every movement felt watched, cataloged, and inspected. 

When I reached for my ring, my fingers hesitated for half a second before I finally slipped it off and placed it on the tray they slid toward me. 

The moment it left my finger, my skin prickled, aware of the sun even through reinforced glass.

They didn’t look away.

One of them stepped forward with a vial. Another grabbed my wrist.

The needle slid into my vein. Blood slowly filled the glass container, dark and thick. They examined it under harsh lights, murmuring to each other. Someone tilted my chin up, forced my eyelids back, inspected my eyes like I was livestock.

I said nothing.

When they were satisfied, they stepped back.

“Step under the skyline,” the first voice ordered.

I inhaled deeply.

Then I walked forward.

The glass above me hummed softly. Mechanisms shifted. I felt it before I saw it, the heat growing heavier, closer. The skylight began to open, inch by inch.

Light poured in.

Not all at once. Slowly and deliberately, like they were trying to taunt me.

The warmth touched my skin first and turned into pain almost instantly. It spread fast, crawling over my shoulders, my arms, my chest.

I gritted my teeth.

The opening widened, and the sunbeams moved closer and closer, until there was nothing between us at all.

Pain followed instantly, sharp and consuming. It wasn’t just my skin. It was deeper. Like fire igniting inside my bones, racing through my veins, eating me from the inside out.

But I didn’t scream.