Marked By Power (Marked, #1)
Cece Rose & G. Bailey
Prologue
The dim lighting in the room does nothing to hide the predatory look on his face as he stalks around me, moving in a circle. I keep trying to move with him, to keep my eyes on him and my back away, but he’s just too quick. He shoots flames to my left, and I jump to my right, narrowly avoiding the hit.
I try to counter with air, calling on my mark. I aim low, hoping to strike him off balance. He blocks my attack with a simple swipe of his hand. A cool jet of water flows from his right hand; he doesn’t aim it at me, but at the floor. I stare at him in confusion, when suddenly the water begins to cool and freeze over. I struggle not to slide across it. I lift my left hand and command fire, using fire’s heat to melt the ice. The steam creates a wall between us. I try to use it as a screen to attack, but he simply uses his air ability to clear his vision again. I back up a few steps to keep out of reach, but he pounces, crossing the space between us. Within seconds I’m pinned down onto the blue mat by his weight. I struggle to get loose, completely forgetting to use my magic in order to assist me.
“Miss Crowe,” he whispers in my ear softly, his deep voice sending shivers right through me.
“Kenzie,” I mumble.
“What?” he asks.
“Please call me Kenzie,” I whisper.
“Miss Kenzie Crowe,” he utters softly, his cool breath against my neck making me shiver.
“Yes?” I whisper, looking up, and catching the heated look in his green eyes.
“You would be dead six times over if I was really trying.”
Chapter 1
Kenzie
Today is the first day of the rest of my life, my initiation into the marked academy. I glance around at all the other seventeen-year-olds dressed in traditional white, as we walk across the rocks. Most look excited, a few nervous, and one even looks a little bored, but I’m calm. I’ll be happy whether I get one power, eleven, or any of the numbers in-between. I feel a hand slip in mine, and as I look around to see Kelly, I smile at her.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Kelly asks.
“Nope. It doesn’t matter what happens. I’ve just got to last three years in this school, and then I’m back to the plan. It’s hard to be nervous when you’re not invested,” I answer softly, aware of the quiet around us, and not wanting my voice to echo in the darkness of night.
“I am,” she whispers. “What if I only get one? My dads will be so disappointed. Mum will be happy with whatever, but those two, they just have so many expectations,” she adds. I frown. I know her dads have always been pushing Kelly to be a high achiever, but seeing her worry like this makes me glad that my own fathers only want me to be happy. The three of them have always shown me support in whatever I want to do, and my mum is the same.
“It’ll be fine, Kells, I promise,” I reply, squeezing her hand tightly. She shoots me a grateful smile, and then her eyes widen as we reach the cave entrance. The entrance is considerably large for a cave and is mostly filled with water, but for a narrow, uneven ledge that runs along one side.
One by one, we file onto the ledge in alphabetical order, walking slowly and carefully across it. Kelly lets go of my hand reluctantly and slips in behind me, walking so close I can feel her breath on my neck. I’m glad her surname follows mine: Crowe and Curwood, I’d hate to think of her doing this part without me.
We follow along the trail until I see the people in front of me seemingly vanish into the wall. I trail my fingers along, waiting for the crack I know is meant to be there. The guy directly in front of me steps to the side and vanishes. I follow his steps and feel my fingers leave the wall, finding the gap. I slip through after him and walk in darkness for a moment, until I see where the narrow gap opens up. Torches line the walls, the flames flickering and casting shadows everywhere. I carry on following behind the guy in front, and I hear Kelly following closely behind. The path opens into a large cavernous space. A serene pool of water lies between us and a grand, golden, double door. The doors are covered in the twelve markings of the marked, six on each. There are three people cloaked in black standing in front of the door. One stands to the side by a gong, holding a long striker. Another stands slightly to the other side, gesturing to us all to file into the room. And one stands in front, a long gold chain hanging around their neck, the master of today’s ceremony.
We all file into rows in front of the water. Once side by side again, I feel Kelly’s hand slip back into mine. We kneel as instructed and wait for the rest to file in. Once we are all waiting, kneeling patiently, the master of the ceremony steps forward.
“Welcome, new students, to The Marked Academy. One by one your names will be called, and you shall enter the water. The water here is all the way from Ariziadia, and will activate your dormant powers. You are to submerge to receive your marks at the sound of the gong. Once blessed by the water, you shall declare how many markings you received, before passing through the doors. However, if you are not blessed by the water, you must leave immediately. Do you all understand?”
A mixture of affirmative answers and head nods roll across the room as we indicate our understanding. I feel Kelly’s hand squeeze mine tighter, the worry of not being blessed clearly getting to her.
“We shall begin,” the ceremony master says. I can feel the tension in the room as everyone stares forward, waiting for the blessings to begin.
“Jacob Addison,” the robed figure to the left calls, their deep voice carrying across the otherwise silent room. The guy kneeling on the front row furthest to the left stands and makes his way to the pool of water. His hunched shoulders are the only sign of his concern as he slowly wades through the water till he reaches the centre and stops, nervously looking around. I count my blessings that I’m not first. The pressure of going before everyone else must be overwhelming.
The robed figure to the right bangs the striker against the gong, and Jacob submerges himself in the water, going completely under. We all watch and wait with bated breath for him to rise. After what feels like forever, he emerges, spluttering and his hands patting against several parts of his body. He must be counting his marks.
“How many markings?” the deep voice calls.
“Seven,” Jacob replies. He looks around and catches the looks of who I assume to be friends, giving them a thumbs up, before wading the rest of the way across the water. He walks up and past the robed figures before slowly pushing the grand-looking door open and stepping through, the door closing softly behind him.
“Joshua Allen,” the robed figure calls, wasting no time in continuing.
The next guy stands and makes his way into the water. The gong sounds, he submerges, and then emerges again.