The stone courtyard smelled of blood long before the twins stepped onto it.
Torchlight flickered off the obsidian walls, casting sharp shadows that danced like spirits ready to drag the weak into the dark. Overhead, the crimson moon bled through the clouds, painting everything in hues of war.
Raelith and Kaelen stood barefoot on the cold rock, their bare chests heaving in slow, measured rhythm. Black tattoos spiraled down their backs and arms like coiled snakes, pulsing faintly as if alive. Around their throats, two real ones slithered — the black adder and the emerald viper — silent, watchful, bonded.
The trial pit was filled with jagged stones, rusted weapons, dried blood, and the bones of failures. At the far end, a gate groaned open.
What crawled out wasn't a man anymore.
A hulking prisoner, stripped of tongue and sanity, his flesh carved with old sigils, and his eyes burned out. Spikes pierced his arms. His breath was wet with madness. He screamed like an animal and charged.
Kaelen moved first — brutal, fast, reckless.
He ducked low, drew a bone dagger from his sash, and aimed for the creature's inner thigh. The blade sank in, but the brute didn't slow. He backhanded Kaelen across the stone with a meaty crack.
Kaelen skidded, blood trailing from his lip.
Raelith didn't flinch. He circled wide, eyes locked on the beast's joints. Calm. Dead-eyed.
The brute lunged for him—but Raelith whispered.
A black pulse shimmered from his hand. Coilbind — a forbidden technique. Threads of shadow lashed out from his palm like whips, binding the brute's ankle for only a second. It was enough.
Kaelen was already back on his feet, leaping onto the monster's back with a snarl.
He plunged his dagger into the back of the neck again and again — not clean, not precise — just rage and steel and hate. Blood sprayed in arcs. The brute slammed himself against the stone wall to shake him off.
Bone cracked. Kaelen grunted, but didn't fall.
Raelith approached slowly. Cold. Focused.
He drew a curved fangblade — forged from serpent bone, enchanted in poison. He didn't shout. He didn't run. He just stepped in and slit the back of the brute's knee with a surgeon's precision.
The giant buckled.
Kaelen plunged the dagger into the base of the skull. A sickening pop. The body twitched.
Silence.
Then a long, slow exhale.
The twins stood over the corpse, blood soaking their torsos, steaming in the mountain air. Neither looked at each other. They didn't need to.
The crowd above — robed members of the main family — watched from the carved stone balconies. No applause. No praise. Just nods.
The Clan Head leaned forward slightly, his silver serpent mask gleaming.
"Efficient," he said simply.
Their father stood nearby, masked, hands trembling behind his back. Not from fear — but from pride he dared not show.
Then came the High Priest.
He emerged from the shadows with silent steps, staff in hand, serpent eyes burning through the veil of smoke. His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"The blood accepts them. The Path opens wider."
He walked toward the twins, stopping just before them. The snakes around their necks hissed in unison.
"You were born of sacrifice," the priest said. "Tonight, you make your first. This is not the end. It is not even the beginning. You are ants on a battlefield of titans. Shadows in a world of monsters. You have no names in this world. Not yet."
Kaelen wiped his blade across the brute's rags.
Raelith watched the blood soak into the ground and whispered:
> "If the gods are watching… let them see what we become."
The priest's eyes narrowed.
"The chaos of this era," he murmured, "is about to unfold."
Above them, the crimson moon pulsed once — like a heartbeat.
And somewhere deep beneath the temple, something ancient stirred… and smiled.k