The opening of Place III didn’t feel like the cool morning sting of Ilyra’s mark under his left collarbone on the burial road, nor did it feel like the clean, heavy forge-heat of Daro Kesh’s mark under his right collarbone in Oran.
Directly below the xiphoid tip of Seyun’s chest bone—at the deepest central knot of his inward-closing channels. There, the around the heart return met the chest muscle. A crescent of white-hot silver burned through the closed vessel wall as if etched by a lightning-struck chisel.
“Ugh—!”
The sheer body shock doubled Seyun over against the black bronze stone base. His forehead struck the cold metal between Bed One and Bed Twelve as his breath locked in his throat.
He had sworn Place I to Ilyra. Then, his channels had registered the boundary of a Late Flame prodigy one step ahead of his eleven years of Coal. He had sworn Place II to Daro Kesh. Then, his channels had registered the dark, seasoned weight of an Experienced Bronze schoolmaster.
Now, as the third silver curve sealed itself into the flesh below his breastbone, Seyun’s mortal Flame spirit veins had to register the load-bearing horizon of an ancient Crown fighter. Five distinct, hundreds of years-hardened intentions joined at a height so vast that looking up its upright wall from the Flame realm felt like lying at the bottom of a mountain gorge and staring up at the stars.
