In that moment, many of the youths had never felt prouder to be born Sanguine.
As they reached the youths, the crowd parted for them like a tide retreating before a storm. Heads lowered, and the silence was loud.
The Sanguine Clan were the coldest in the Dome, bloodthirsty men and women who wouldn't hesitate to rip anyone apart for the slightest offense.
Their public opinion was far from good. But they were feared. They were respected. They were worshipped.
Their rule in the west went unquestioned, and even the other overlords of the Dome tread carefully around them.
As the Sanguine youths walked through, countless eyes followed, especially those focused on the ones leading them, the veins.
And as the onlookers took in their regal gait and overwhelming presence, their hearts slowly sank.
"There's more than one vein," one youth whispered in dread.
"We can kiss any hope of ranking top goodbye." Another muttered,
