POV: Sera
The moment I see Blake's hand touch Lyanna's shoulder, I know everything is about to change.
I'm hidden in the library doorway—my favorite place to disappear—watching them through the arched entrance. They stand by the window overlooking our settlement, and Blake is laughing at something my sister said. Not the polite laugh he uses for me. This laugh is different. Alive.
Lyanna tilts her head, her golden hair catching the light, and smiles up at him. She's beautiful the way sunlight is beautiful—effortless, impossible to look away from.
Blake leans closer.
My stomach drops before they even kiss.
But they don't. The library doors slam open behind me, and a servant rushes through, face pale. "The Elders have made the announcement," she whispers to another servant, her voice trembling. "Offering Day. All big families must give someone this time. No exceptions."
My breath catches. No exceptions.
The servants hurry away, leaving me frozen in the doorway. Behind me, I hear Blake finally kiss my sister—a soft, certain sound that confirms what I already knew. He doesn't love me. He never did.
"Sera!" My father's voice booms from somewhere in the house. "Family dinner. Now."
I walk downstairs like someone moving through water—everything feels distant and unreal. The dining room is massive, cold despite the candles. Father sits at the head of the table, his face carved from stone. Mother—no, Margaret, my stepmother—sits beside him, her smile sharp enough to cut. Marcus, my older brother, won't look at me. Lyanna is still smoothing her hair, freshly kissed and glowing.
Blake slides into the seat across from me and finally meets my eyes. He gives me an apologetic shrug, as if to say sorry, but your sister is more interesting.
Father clears his throat.
"We have a situation," he says, not bothering with small talk. "The Elders are demanding that prominent families contribute to the Offering. Every major household must sacrifice someone. No more choosing from the outer settlements. This time, it's personal."
The word sacrifice hangs in the air like poison.
Margaret takes a sip of wine, perfectly calm. "Well," she says, "the choice is obvious."
"Actually," Father says, and his eyes find mine across the table, "it already has been made."
Something in his expression—something cold and decided—tells me before the words come out. I know. I've always known, really. Known since the day he chose Margaret over grieving my real mother. Known since the day he spent all his attention building up Marcus instead of noticing me. Known every single time I was overlooked, every time I was the wrong choice.
"Sera," Father announces, as casually as if he's discussing the weather, "you're our Offering."
The world stops.
"What?" My voice sounds strange—small and far away.
"It's already been decided with the Elders," Father continues, cutting into his meat. "You'll be presented at the ceremony three days from now."
Three days.
I look around the table, searching for someone to contradict him. Marcus stares at his plate like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Lyanna's perfect face arranges itself into an expression of sadness—the kind of sadness you perform for an audience, not real sadness.
Blake. Blake was supposed to claim me as his wife. That's what fiancés do. Married women are exempt from the Offering. I know this. Everyone knows this.
"Blake," I hear myself say, my voice barely a whisper. "You could... you could claim me. We're engaged. Married women—"
He shifts in his seat. Looks away from me toward Lyanna, who suddenly becomes very interested in her food.
"I can't do that, Sera," he says quietly.
"Why not?" I ask. The desperation in my voice makes me want to disappear into the floor. "Blake, we're supposed to get married. We could just—"
"I can't throw my life away," he says, and there's something almost angry in his tone, like I'm being unreasonable by asking him to save me. "I have responsibilities. A future. I'm sorry, but... I just can't."
I'm sorry.
Like he's declining an invitation to a party.
Margaret reaches over and pats my hand with false sympathy. "Someone has to go, dear. You're the logical choice. The settlement needs Marcus to lead. Lyanna has diplomatic value. Celeste's marriage alliance is important. But you..." She smiles, and it's the cruelest thing I've ever seen. "You're the obvious choice."
Marcus finally looks at me. For a moment, I think he might say something. That he might actually be a brother, actually be a person with a heart.
"It's already decided," he says instead, and returns to his food.
And that's it. That's my family's love—silence and turned shoulders and apologies that change nothing.
The rest of the dinner passes in a blur. Father discusses arrangements with Margaret like I'm not there. Blake eventually excuses himself—probably to walk Lyanna in the gardens, to kiss her under the stars without guilt. Marcus mentions he has late work at the settlement offices. Even Lyanna leaves early, citing fatigue.
I sit alone in the dining room long after everyone's gone, staring at the uneaten food on my plate.
Three days. I have three days before they brand me with the Offering mark and drive me to the edge of monster territory. Three days before I'm supposed to die in the Crimson Waste, hunted by creatures with too many teeth and too many eyes.
Three days, and no one at this table fought for me.
I finally stand and walk back to the library—my refuge, my only true home. The books don't judge. The stories don't betray. I pull down a pre-meteor history text and try to lose myself in old, dead worlds. Better than thinking about my own death.
Midnight comes. The house is silent.
I'm curled in my favorite reading chair when it happens—a sensation like lightning under my skin. My eyes open, and for just a moment, I see something that shouldn't be possible.
I see... everything.
Not with my normal eyes. Something deeper. I can see into the darkness around me, perceive the invisible—the desires of the servants sleeping in distant rooms, the ambitions of my father dreaming upstairs, the hunger and fear that permeates every corner of this house.
And underneath it all, something else.
Something ancient. Something gold.
A pulse of power so intense it burns, radiating from deep inside my chest.
My hands are shaking. My eyes feel wrong—wrong and right at the same time.
The power fades as suddenly as it came, but it leaves something behind. A knowledge. A terrible, impossible knowledge:
Something inside me is awakening.
And in three days, when I cross into the Crimson Waste, I won't be the helpless girl my family threw away.
I'll be something they never bargained for.
Human fingers touch the edge of my vision—but they're glowing gold.