(Seraphina POV)I never believed the old stories until the high priestess pressed the obsidian blade to my palm and my blood answered by glowing violet on the stone floor, marking me chosen whether I wanted it or not. Elder Mara was the first to speak, her voice steady but laced with something close to awe. “Seraphine,” she said, using my full name the way she only did during the most solemn rites. “The temple has named you. Step forward.”I stayed rooted where I was, palm still stinging, blood dripping in slow violet beads onto the floor. “This can’t be right,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone. “I’m not… I’ve never trained for this. I’m just—”“You are exactly what it needs,” High Priestess Lirien cut in, her tone gentle but final. She moved closer, the hem of her heavy black robes whispering across the stone. “The violet chooses the vessel, not the training. You feel it already, don’t you? The pull. The heat.”I did feel it. A low, insistent throb low in my belly, spreading
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