Crimson Outcast
“You see? Love. Fear. Anger. They are chains, yes—but they can also be weapons. If you cannot sever them, you must wield them.”
I looked up at her, gasping, my chest aching. “And if I can’t?”
Her gaze softened, but only slightly. “Then the ceremony will not crown you, Amara. It will destroy you.”
I swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. Because for the first time, I understood—this was not just training. This was survival.
The third session began at dusk, when the skies burned crimson and shadows stretched long across the palace grounds. Thalia led me back to the obsidian chamber, though tonight it felt heavier, suffused with something expectant, like the room knew what was about to unfold.
Bab Populer