In and out. That’s it. No matter what happens, I’ll live.

I repeated those words in my head like a mantra. And the words were valid; I would live, even if I came out UnMarked. But what I had a hard time convincing myself of was the fact that, if UnMarked, I’d still be able to live a worthwhile life. Society in Edrona (and everywhere else, I’d imagine) ran by the usefulness of the Marked’s skills and abilities. Hydraulic talents provided fresh water in our desolate, rocky lands. Hunters fought off monsters and provided food for Edrona. The UnMarked… they tended bars and helped clean the waters of the oasis. Yes, they had function, but I wanted to be… more. I wanted to be Drayek.

Drayek rarely opened up to me about his travels and fights, but I knew this: Drayek stood at the top of the Hunters–the best of the best. Rumor had it that he had single-handedly won the war for Edrona 20 years ago when the Nagari tribe, a very large group of humanoid snake men (creatures of which I am lucky to have never beheld with my own eyes), tried to take our lands from us. And Drayek had only been a Tier 1 at the time, proving his capabilities very early on.

Through whispered storytelling and in passing, I’d heard tales of Drayek’s unmatched strength as he swung a sword emblazoned with fire and sliced through scaly torsos and necks effortlessly as he tore through the Nagari ranks.

When asking Drayek to confirm these stories, I’d only ever receive this reply, “I was definitely there.”

I needed to think about something else. My body began swaying from side to side as nerves coursed through my veins with a hot intensity. And the packed bodies waiting in the temple’s modest-sized chamber to the right of the entrance didn’t provide me with any calm. And the sour scent of nervous sweat emanating off of those bodies made my eyes water, which increased the painful pounding in my head.

I recognized most of the kids in the chamber, all my age. 16 was the age for the Marking Ceremony. But the fact that I recognized most of them was not a good thing. Most likely, especially if I knew them by name, the other kids I recognized had participated in bullying me my entire life.

Sure, I recognized many of them through seeing them in town when going to the Markets with Drayek to trade the loot he scored on hunts, but even those kids would sneer at me as I passed. In fact, most of the adults in this goddess-forsaken city treated me the same way; I was treated less than dirt, almost like I might as well have been a cursed Nagari.

And today was no exception.

About two feet to my left stood the worst bully of them all: Dorian. Against my better judgment, I met his dark eyes. His thin top lip curled up in a hideous sneer as he looked my scrawny frame up and down in obvious amusement.

I’d lost count of the times Dorian and his three stubby goons, the three who even now stood attached to Dorian, sought me out just to give me an unnecessary beating. And I could tell by the looks on their faces that they’d take whatever chance they’d get to do the same to me today–Marking Ceremony or not.

I tore my eyes away from Dorian’s patronizing glare so as to not punch that evil grin off his long, dopey face. Thank the goddess, I found a much kinder face fifteen or so paces to my right.

Once Sarina saw me, a brilliant smile lit up her entire face, crinkling her eyes up in that adorable way. My chest tightened uncomfortably at the sight of her pretty smile. I chalked the feeling up to relief to see a friend among the masses of jerks. I also tried to ignore the erratic skip of my heartbeat.

Sarina waved at me, and a lustrous lock of hair fell over her forehead as her arm moved. She seemed just as relieved to see me as I was to see her.

“You ready?” I mouthed to her as I waved in return.

Sarina's tan ceremony gown, which matched what I and everyone else wore, rippled in waves from her collarbone to her ankles as she shrugged.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she mouthed back.

“Children, children! Settle down!”

The nervous and excited chatter died as quickly as a small flame quenched by a stream of water. Everyone recognized Priest Mauris Kane’s voice when they heard it. Distinctive, low, raspy…. It was definitely his voice.

The Priest swept into the chamber with a flourish of his fire-red robes trailing behind him. His bald head shone from the glow of lit candles lighting the small side chamber, and he brandished his gaudy ring that bore a diamond-encrusted water droplet. The ring indicated his position as a Water Priest and as one of the most important people in Edrona, and he waved it around as he always did to make sure we all saw it–as if we didn’t already know his position.

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No matter how strong my urge was to offer an exasperated eye-roll in the Priest’s direction, I wasn’t an idiot. Mauris Kane arguably held the most respected role in our city, so much so that the other 11 Priests in Edrona took his word as commandment–almost like he spoke for Lady Euridice herself. So, no matter how ridiculous the Priest’s boastful attitude felt to me, I still had to show the man the respect he deserved.

The Priest pushed through the frontline of nervous teenagers, and each person in his way gave him no trouble as he did so. As soon as Priest Kane secured a spot in the center of the chamber and achieved a good view of the dozens of 16-year-olds, he proffered a gentle smile. The corners of his lips pulled on the bits of saggy skin on his cheeks, making him look significantly older than he was. Though the Priest wasn’t more than 10 years older than Drayek, who was in his mid-50s, Priest Kane looked well into his 70s, maybe even 80. It could very well be because of the worry lines boring into the top of his bald head.

“Children, you have made it!”

The Priest outstretched his short arms and raised his pointy chin to the ceiling.

Is he expecting applause?

No one made a sound, so I wasn’t about to start clapping alone.

Priest Kane’s smile only grew with the silence. “Today, you will each seek Lady Euridice’s blessing. This isn’t what you trained for, so don’t expect that. No matter how strong you’ve become, no matter how skilled with a blade, or how intelligent you are, the goddess has already predestined you for what is about to occur in this temple.”

Why is he looking at me? I shifted my feet and avoided the Priest’s eerie gaze.

The Priest had always shown a strange fascination with me. I can name at least two separate times I had caught a glimpse of him watching me train at my own home with a tilted head and narrowed eyes, as if he was studying my every move. Why a Priest would go out of his way to keep tabs on me, I couldn’t tell you. But I could tell you that it probably had something to do with my mysterious origin. Maybe the Priests had reason to fear what my future might bring; maybe they wondered what I might become. Who knew? But I couldn’t blame them. I was curious about all of that, too.

“Your training merely provides you with a head start in gathering and cultivating power once you receive your Mark, so let go of any arrogance or any insecurities you may have about your physical and mental capabilities. Just pay your respects to the goddess and receive what she believes you deserve.”

He narrowed his eyes at each of us. “And be grateful for whatever happens.”

The dozens of nervous gulps around me were so audible I couldn’t even hear my own.

Most of the 16-year-olds in that chamber would come out of the ceremony with a Mark–we all knew that. But that didn’t stop the existence of UnMarkeds. At least two came out UnMarked at every ceremony, hence the abundance of nervous energy bouncing about the room. However, the odds were still in everyone’s favor, at least for the actual Edronans. Who knew what my odds were?

Priest Kane whirled around toward the door to the chamber, flinging the tail of his long robe behind himself simultaneously. He flicked a finger in an indication that we should follow him.

And we did. One after the other. The passageway through the side chamber door proved too narrow for more than one pair of shoulders to get through.

I’d lost track of Sarina at this point and determined I wouldn’t be able to speak with her until after the ceremony. So, I positioned myself near the end of the line to avoid too much poking and prodding from the others wishing to torment me. But it seemed any tyrannical thoughts were far from anyone’s mind at that moment.

I held my breath as the line meandered through the narrow passageway's twists and curves. My arms brushed the cold stone walls more than once, and each time, I felt like the walls were drawing in closer and closer. I hated tight spaces.

Finally, it was my turn to emerge into the light of the altar room. I released my held breath and let my shoulders fall in relief. Light streamed from the suns through the tall glass windows, windows that stretched past the immense height of the walls and continued over the high ceiling.

I welcomed the warmth from the suns’ rays and closed my eyes against them. Though stuffy from the mass of 16-year-olds, the side chamber had been damp and cold.

The altar room was massive and empty, save for a large box at the end that held the altar. The stone box served like a room within a room, offering privacy for each child as they went through their individual ceremonies. I knew nothing more than that–not what the altar looked like, what would happen, how it would feel…. The Marking Ceremony was a sacred rite in Edrona. It was very private and very secret. It was frowned upon to discuss the ceremony in detail.

The group of 16-year-olds spread out at one end of the room as Priest Kane stepped toward the front, where the other 11 Priests stood in front of the altar box. His heeled boots click-clacked against the smooth marble floor, the sound echoing ominously in the otherwise silent space.

Priest Kane took his place at the center of the other Priests’ semicircle and folded his fingers in front of him.

“We will call each of you by name. When your name is called, you will approach the altar box and enter alone. Once you are finished, you will leave the Temple of Euridice quietly through there.” The Priest pointed toward a round door to the left of the altar box. “As each name is called, the rest of you will wait for your turn patiently as each Marking Ceremony is completed. Any questions?”

Priest Kane’s beady eyes scanned the faces of the 16-year-olds with a scowl, daring any of us to actually venture a question. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught some poor girl raising her hand as she dared a question.

“How will we know our ceremony is over?”

Whispered murmurs of agreement resounded around me, but the noise quickly dissipated at the raise of Priest Kane’s eyebrows.

“Your Marking Ceremonies will take as long as they take. It varies from person to person. And trust me, you will know when it is over.” The Priest rolled his shoulders back. “Anyone else?”

No response, no movement.

“Very well. We will begin.”