I feel myself blush, almost as if I'm worried he could hear my thoughts somehow. But then I realize he's just looking at the "V" on my chest, and his attention makes more sense.

"Offerings," the older student continues, his expression solemn. "You stand at the threshold of a great honor—the test of elemental affinity. Those who pass will join the ranks of Empire's most elite. Those who do not..." he pauses, his gaze sweeping over us, "will have given their lives in service to Empire. Remember, to be chosen as an offering is itself a profound distinction. This is not a punishment. This is the greatest opportunity you could ever hope to be granted. Remember that."

The words sound noble, but the cold reality behind them isn't lost on any of us. Many, if not all of us, are sentenced to death, and our sentence is about to be carried out.

I can sense others around me shifting in fear, eyes wide with worry.

I don't feel fear, though. I only feel determination. All the pain I caused... maybe surviving here could somehow fix it. Maybe a primal could return home and make things right for Brissa and my mother. Maybe a primal could earn their forgiveness where I couldn't.

"What if we refuse testing?" someone calls out.

The boy shakes his head. "You will all enter the testing chamber, whether on your feet or... otherwise."

Another nervous murmur ripples through the crowd of offerings.

"Now," he says, chin lifted, "you'll all be taken to the Great Hall of Testing. Within, you'll either discover your affinity... or you'll meet your end. In either case, I suggest you face it with boldness."

Before the guards can lead us away, a voice stops me.

"I wouldn't get too close to that one if I were you."

I turn to see the legacy I'd noticed earlier standing beside me, his uniform pristine, his handsome face set in a friendly expression that doesn't quite reach his eyes. His wavy blonde hair is pushed back neatly from a broad forehead, revealing blue eyes so pale I'd taken them for white at a distance.

"Who?" I ask, instantly wary.

"The scarred volunteer. I'm Bastian," he says, extending a hand. "First-year, just like you."

Except he's not just like me. Everything about him screams privilege and good breeding—from his perfectly styled hair to his confident stance, as if the world has never once failed to deliver exactly what he wanted.

Coldness colors my smile. "I'm Nessa. First-year who is apparently about to be forced to risk my life in a test I didn't consent to."

Bastian offers a tight-lipped nod. "It's frightening. I know."

He doesn't. He can't know.

"Some of us legacies have been asked to help orient offerings these first few days. So, please, let me know if there's anything I can do to help." He sticks his hand out.