The Cauldron rejected me.
Not with fire, nor light, nor pain sharp enough to leave scars. It drew me in, crushed the breath from my lungs, and then cast me away—as if I had never belonged to it at all.
Later, people would search for meaning. They would whisper of bad omens and divine wrath, of imbalance and blasphemy. None of it mattered then. Lying on the cold stone floor of the Temple, I understood only one truth:
The gods had seen me—and turned away.
Morning light spilled into my room, carrying the scent of breakfast with it. I opened my eyes slowly, the smell instantly familiar. Salty, warm, touched by a faint sweetness—the scent of wave-eye eggs sizzling in a pan.
My mother only bought them on special mornings, when she managed to save just enough coin. Sacred days. Important days. Today was one of them.
Baptism Day.
Every youth of the elemental folks who had reached seventeen would step into the Cauldron today. Afterward, we would be separated according to the gifts the gods bestowed upon us, prepared for training, for purpose. For destiny. It was a holy day. For everyone.
I rubbed my aching eyes and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling.What would the Cauldron feel like?Would it hurt when the power settled into my body?Would Ash be happy for me?
The questions tangled tighter and tighter until I forced myself to stop thinking. I pushed the heavy blanket aside and left my room. Halfway down the stairs, the world tilted.
Darkness swept across my vision, sudden and suffocating. I reached for the railing just in time, gripping it until the spinning slowed. When my sight cleared a few seconds later, I stayed still, trying to understand what had happened.
I didn't think too hard about it. Probably thirst, I told myself, and continued to the kitchen.
My mother stood with her back to me, carefully cooking the eggs, as though even the slightest rush might break them. She must have sensed my gaze, because she turned. Her smile was… strange. I couldn't tell if it was joy or the kind of smile meant to hide worry.
I smiled back anyway.
"Good morning," I said calmly, careful not to let my nerves reach her.
Being a male omega already made things difficult enough. I couldn't find work, and I knew I was a burden to her. At least today, I didn't want my emotions to weigh on her too.
She opened her mouth to speak—but the front door creaked loudly as it opened.
I looked up, and my expression softened instantly.
Asher Valecor.
When he stepped inside, the morning chill followed him into the kitchen. His golden hair was tousled by the wind, his coat fastened high at his throat even though he rarely felt the cold. He liked blending into his surroundings like that.
Our eyes met, and for one suspended second, the world stopped.
As always, my gaze went to his eyes—amber, warm, familiar. Dark circles shadowed them. He hadn't slept either.
"Good morning," he said.
His voice was calm, but his eyes told another story.
"Good morning," I replied with a small smile.
Asher was the only alpha I ever felt completely at ease around. We weren't brothers. We had never been lovers. We weren't just friends either. What bound us was something deeper—something nameless, forged in childhood and carried quietly into adulthood.
My mother greeted him with a gentle smile, and he returned it easily. To her, he was already a second son. To him, this house was home.
He leaned back against one of the wooden chairs by the table, resting his hands on either side of the backrest, his attention fixed on me. My heart betrayed me immediately, beating faster under his gaze.
When Asher looked at me like that, it felt as though he could see straight through me—every thought I never dared to voice. That was why I never tried to explain myself around him. And why I felt safe.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
He had been baptized the year before. He knew exactly what awaited me, even though I had told him a hundred times that he didn't need to come.
"I think so," I said, pursing my lips. "What's the worst that could happen? The gods don't like me, send me back. Then you'll spend the rest of our lives saying I told you so."
"If the gods don't like you," he said quietly, watching my reaction, "that's their loss. Mine won't change."
Something inside my chest loosened.
I turned toward my mother, pretending to watch her cook. "That…" My voice came out softer than I meant it to, but Asher heard. "That's enough."
After breakfast, we pulled on our coats and headed for the Temple of Still Waters. A heaviness settled in my lungs as we stepped outside, as if breathing itself required effort.
The moment the door opened, cold air hit my face—and the world tilted again. Darkness brushed my vision, my balance slipping. Before I could fall, Asher's large, steady hand closed around my much thinner arm, reflexive and sure.
"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning close.
His breath grazed the shell of my ear, and my heart stuttered.
"I—I'm fine," I said, forcing calm. "Just dizzy."
He nodded, unconvinced but letting it go.
The main street was far more crowded than usual. Too lively, yet tense all the same. We walked over uneven stone toward the Temple.
The water folk were quiet by nature. No shouting, no loud laughter. Even now, the loudest sound was the rhythm of footsteps echoing together. The street stretched wide between flowing canals, small bridges linking tightly built houses. Moss clung to the stone, fishing nets hung over pale walls like decorations.
As the sound of water grew louder, my unease deepened.
People were watching.
No one spoke—but they saw me. And I knew exactly what they saw.
The commander's son makes things easy for him.A male omega doesn't belong here.
I said nothing. There was nothing else I could do.
The Temple loomed ahead, its stones darkened by centuries of moisture. Water channels carved into the floor had worn the stone smooth. The moment I stepped inside, the weight of sanctity pressed down on my shoulders.
Was it supposed to feel like this?
The crowd split into two lines. We took our place as names were called, one by one. Each youth entered the Cauldron, water responding in waves, steam, or light. Prayers echoed in the old tongue. Songs followed.
I heard none of it.
My ears rang violently. The air thickened. My chest tightened—until a whisper cut through everything.
"Aerin."
The ringing vanished and I looked around.
"Aerin Vireth."
The priest's voice echoed through the Temple. Silence fell. Every gaze turned to me. How many times had my name been called? My feet moved on their own. For the first time in seventeen years, the stone beneath me felt foreign. As though I didn't belong to the water—or to this place at all.
I searched for one face.
Asher met my eyes and smiled, quiet and steady.
Go.
I stopped near the Cauldron, removed my shoes, and stepped forward. The water stilled. It didn't ripple. Didn't boil. Didn't glow. Then it withdrew—dragging me with it.
Pressure crushed my body. My breath vanished. Panic flared.
Is this how I die?
When he Cauldron hurled me out my back slammed into cold stone, air tearing from my lungs. The Temple fell into stunned silence.
"Aerin!"
Asher's voice reached me first. He was there in seconds, kneeling beside me. I shook uncontrollably, cold and fear locking my body tight. He gripped my shoulder, his gaze frantic.
"It's over," he said, cupping my face. "You're okay."
Tears blurred my vision before I could answer.
"Remove him from the Temple."
The High Priest's command echoed as soldiers advanced. Asher pulled me into his chest, turning toward them, authority heavy in his stance.
"Touch him," he growled, "and I'll kill you. I'll take him out myself."
Even the soldiers hesitated.
"This is an order, Asher Valecor," the High Priest said sharply.
"This is not a crime," Asher cut in. "And he is not a criminal."
His voice was low—dangerous.
I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in the scent of cedar, trying to steady myself. It didn't fully work. I was still shaking, tears slipping free.
He turned his attention back to me, resting his forehead against mine, waiting until I closed my eyes.
"Look at me," he whispered. "I'm here."
And in the silence of the Temple, only our breathing remained.