Page 170 of Daughter of the Serpent

“So many don’t know the truth.”

He nodded. “Because man has twisted it in favor of power and control. Binding it in laws and rituals, convincing the masses that power must beearned, that it must come at a cost. But magic is no different than breath.”

A slow exhale left her lips, her mind reeling.

She looked down at his markings, the ancient symbols whispering secrets against his skin. She traced them again, slower this time, awe unfurling in her chest. Each rune was a work of art, carved with purpose, humming softly beneath her fingertips. Some pulsed like embers, others cool and steady, each carrying its own resonance, its own identity. As she passed her hands over them, she swore she couldfeeltheir magic, shifting and stirring like something alive.

Her heart pounded. She recognized some, their shapes familiar, their meanings flickering at the edge of memory. But others were foreign, their purpose a mystery.

"What do they all mean?" she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.

A shadow flickered in his gaze, but he only smiled. "Perhaps one day, you'll know them yourself."

Her eyes snapped to his, doubt coiling through her thoughts.

"The knowledge will come, Sylvie," he said, as if sensing her uncertainty. His voice was softer now, gentle. "The Hazier spentlifetimes unraveling the secrets of the runes, and even then, there was always more to learn."

His gaze held hers. "That’s why we began training early. To have the time - to grow, to train, tounderstand."

Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“It was only then, when one had acquired enough knowledge and skill that they could be ready to be fully initiated.”

“The rite of passage?”

He nodded.

“And what was yours?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

He stilled. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his answer. Weigh whether or not to share such information. Weigh if he would let her in. Then, with a slow exhale, his breath misted in the morning air.

"I was twelve years old." His voice was steady, but she could hear it - the weight behind it, the echo of something long buried. "My mother said I was too young, but my father... he was different. Harsh. Set in his ways. One of the strongest warriors of our clan. He wanted to prove I could follow in his footsteps - not just survive, but become like him. A leader."

She studied him, absorbing each word, each shift in his expression.

How little she knew of his past, of the world that had forged him.

"That night, they blindfolded me and took me deep into the forest, far from the clan. A place where the trees swallowed the moonlight, where I wouldn’t know the paths or the way home. And there… they left me."

A shiver crawled up her spine at the thought of a child - alone, abandoned in the wild.

"But I had been prepared for this," he continued. "From the moment I could hold a blade, I trained. I had learned to still my breath, to listen to the earth, to become a shadow among the trees. Nature was my second mother. I bathed in her waters. I gave her my reverence, my loyalty. And after two days alone in her embrace, she sent me my test."

She swallowed. "What was it?"

His gaze flickered. "A bear."

Her breath caught.

"I was tracking my next meal, hunting down rabbits - small, easy prey. And then it happened."

A muscle in his jaw tensed. His fingers, absentminded, brushed the scar along his neck, tracing the long, jagged path from his jaw down to his chest.

"At first, I thought it might ignore me, pass me by…" he said. "But deep down, I knew. This was my test. The gods themselves had sent it."

The world around them seemed to shrink as he spoke, and she was hooked on every word.

"I had nothing but a small hunting knife. It came at me fast - faster than I expected. I felt the force of it before I even saw the claws. It ripped me open, knocked me down. I thought it would crush me, devour me. I felt the weight of death, felt it pressing in, cold and merciless."