The second Ecliptuari stepped toward him. Cillian didn’t flinch, though his small fingers curled tighter into Fionn’s tunic, seeking the brother who was only a few inches taller to stay by his side. The Ecliptuari’s hand blurred, but instead of a backhand, the gloved fingers caught Cillian’s chin, tilting his face up into the sickly light.
With the other hand, the Ecliptuari pressed a sharp, silver needle into the raw flesh of Fionn’s wounded shoulder. Fionn let out a low, guttural hiss of pain, his knees buckling. Cillian’s eyes went wide with fear.
“Smile, Cillian,” the Ecliptuari whispered in a feminine voice, twisting the needle just a fraction until Fionn’s sobbed in pain.
“Cillian, if you cannot find your charm while your brother bleeds, you are useless to the Order. Enchant me, or I will take his eye.”
Tears pricked Cillian’s eyes, but through the sheer terror of losing Fionn, he forced his lips to curve. It was a beautiful, horrifying lie of a smile, the very one I had seen many times since arriving at the manor.
“Careful, little Starling,” the voice hissed, satisfied.
“Your face is the Order’s greatest snare. We must not mark the beauty that will steal the breath from the Marked.
Remember your conditioning, enchant the heart until it beats only for you, then switch off the light when they refuse to bind.
The young girl whined on the floor gasping for breath.
The Ecliptuari’s shadow leaned closer, her voice a low, seductive rasp.
"Now, go to her. Speak to the girl on the floor as she breathes her last breath. If she dies in terror, you have failed. If she dies smiling at you, you are ready and you stop your brother from losing an eye.”
Cillian’s gaze flickered to the girl wincing in pain in the centre of the silver star. His fingers let go of Fionn’s tunic, and he moved toward her with a grace that was too perfect.
Beside them, Torin’s wide eyes glistened with fear.
The female Ecliptuari stepped toward Torin, she didn't reach for a needle, instead, she grabbed Torin’s small, wrists and guided him toward the girl lying on the floor, forcing his hands into the pool of blood that surrounded her.
“The youngest must learn the weight of the aftermath,” the Ecliptuari rasped, dragging Torin’s palms through the crimson puddle that surrounded her.
“Your brothers do the work, Torin, but you will carry the stain. If you cannot look at the blood without trembling, you are a liability to the Order.”
Torin was shaking violently, a sharp, choked sob breaking from his chest as the girl’s blood stained his skin.
But then, the Ecliptuari leaned down, her mask inches from his ear. “Don’t weep, little pup. Paint with it. You can play in the blood or drown in it. The choice is yours.”
Torin’s sobbing stopped mid-breath, replaced by a terrifying, glassy-eyed focus.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he began to drag his fingers through the red puddle in slow, rhythmic circles, watching the patterns as if he were mesmerized by a toy.
He looked at his own dripping, red hands and let out a high, hysterical chuckle, a sound that didn't belong in a child's throat. It was the birth of the mask I saw him wear now, if the world was going to be this disgusting, he would simply laugh at the gore.
In the shadows, I couldn’t believe who I saw. The fourth child, Donte watched with a stillness that made my blood run cold.
Then, the female Ecliptuari turned away from Torin as he played in the blood, his hysterical laughter still echoing off the stone. She walked straight toward the deepest shadows where the fourth boy stood.
Donte didn't move. He didn't tremble like Torin or hiss like Fionn. He simply watched her approach, his face smooth, the only one unmarked by Vareth.
The female Ecliptuari reached up, her gloved fingers hooking beneath the edge of her silver mask and pulled it off. I felt terror when I saw who was underneath the mask?
It was Seraphina.
But not the withered, aging woman in this house. This was a younger Seraphina, her skin like polished marble, her China blue eyes burning with a cruel, celestial light.
She leaned in close to Donte, her hand ghosting over his unmarked cheek with a terrifying tenderness. “Little Starling,” she whispered, her voice a low, seductive rasp that made my skin crawl.
“There is a different path for you. The others will be feared, but you… you will be loved.
The male Ecliptuari’s masked face turned toward Torin and Donte, his voice a low, rasping whisper.
