My chest tightens. I spin. "We're leaving."
The judge points to the group of men. They lurch at me, grabbing my arms.
"Get off me," I bark, fighting, but they pin my arms so I can't move them.
"Stop fighting, Brax. You're making this worse," Valentina orders.
I freeze, my heart beating a mile a minute.
What is she talking about?
A man steps behind her. He restrains her so her arms are behind her back. Two kneel and hold her legs against their bodies.
My insides tremble with anger and confusion.
The judge asserts, "Blood remembers. The body pays for what the soul declares."
A man puts a piece of wood to her mouth.
She accepts it and bites down.
Heat from the cauldron intensifies. The man reaches in with his gloved hand and lifts the second metal rod. When he raises it, the tip catches the light, revealing a six-inch-long V that glows molten red.
Rage detonates inside me. I snarl, "Don't you touch her!" I try to fight again, but the men overpower me.
The room seems to hold its breath.
Valentina's lips shake, yet she stands taller, shoulders squared, spine straight.
I fight again for my freedom, and another man steps forward and grasps my throat. I choke, struggling to breathe.
The cauldron's flames flare, turning her skin to gold and shadows. Time slows.
Valentina swallows hard as the red-hot metal V comes toward her.
"Zaii'venar…zaii'venar…zaii'venar…" fills the chamber so fiercely that it vibrates against my rage.
Two men step forward. One pulls her breast to the left. The other moves her breast to the right. The metal V gets pressed to her torso, the top tips touching the side of her breasts and the bottom above her belly button.
Her body jerks violently. A muffled scream rips from her throat, trapped behind the wood. The smell of burning flesh rises again.
It's worse than before. It crawls up my nose and wedges itself behind my eyes, mixing with the memory of my own pain and the visual of her tears falling down her cheeks.
I fight again, and the fingers squeeze my neck so hard I almost black out. I miss the rod getting pulled away.
The crowd's chant turns to, "Ohm. Ohm. Ohm."
Someone slathers ointment on her stomach, and they release her.
She trembles alone, tears falling down her cheeks, staring at the judges while trying to look brave. But she's branded and brilliant and broken open in a way I don't think anyone would ever know how to fix, including me.
My heart aches. Anger floods me to the point I can barely see.
The hand gets removed from my throat.
I choke.
"Easy. Don't want to die on your initiation night," the man warns, and steps back. "Release him."
